2006-06-01 - 8:43 p.m.

I have a good update. An update so grand that I feel it necessary to talk about it until I run out of shit to talk about. I proposed to my girlfriend and she actually accepted. I know! I am shocked too. What in the fuck was she thinking? A lifetime of me. How lucky can one girl get? And how about my fiance's luck? *rimshot*

But wait, there's more. We now have to plan a wedding, figure out where we are going to live, and now I have a massive amount of job stress coming up. Go go gadget alcohol!

So....I got engaged. I decided that I had had enough of being that guy. You know that guy. The guy who dates a girl for like 15 years and never proposes. The guy who causes conversations like:

Random nosy jack ass - "So how long have you two been together? 5 years! Jesus is he ever going to propose?!"

Yes yes. I was that guy. But I have made the change. I am now the engaged guy. Which is a step up in responsibility and a step down in possession of my manhood.

So everyone wants to know how I did it. Well I am the romatic type so I rented a yacht for the weekend. Just the two of us on our rented out 120' yacht. I started off by cooking dinner made with ingredients found from a nearby market off the coast of Venezuela. I labored over the food while she relaxed with a full body massage and spa package. When she came back from her spa treatment, we had a candle light dinner. I was dressed in my tuxedo of course. Typical yacht attire. Next, I ran a warm bubble bath so she could relax her muscles while I got the Pinot Noir and imported Camembert cheese from the northern region of France ready. As she came out, we feasted on grapes, cheese and wine. I then presented her with my engagement gift of a young Palomino calf. On the horse rode Tony Bennett singing an old classic, "The way you look tonight." Around the horses neck sat a 26 carat engagement ring and I asked her to be my wife. She accepted and we continued our weekend cruise on the yacht with Tony.

So...yeah. Truth be told, I have no idea what the fuck I am talking about. I proposed, she said yes, and we drank heavily that night. That's the real story.

So now we have a wedding to plan. Good times. We have to pick out flowers, napkins, invitations, chairs, place settings, silverware, plates, transportation, a dress for me, a dress for her, wedding party gifts, centerpieces, bridesmaid dresses, ushers, and fucking so on and fucking so forth. The funny part of it, is when you get right down to it....no one really cares. I mean, come the fuck on. The chairs? We have to pick what chairs we want the people to sit on? As if this even fucking matters on the grand scale of things? As if anyone will ever even comment on the chairs? Fuck that. I dare them to say a thing about the chairs. I will get drunk and talk nonsense in their face. That will shut them up.

But it's not all bad. No no. Don't get me wrong. I will take the weird choices with the great choices. OPEN FUCKING BAR! Hell yeah I said it. Open bar bitches. Wedding cake! And food! Did I mention the open bar? And the sweet limo stocked with, you guessed it, alcohol. I am looking very forward to it. So I am now an engaged man. I am sorry ladies, but this hot piece of meat is off the market. And so am I, so quit looking at my fiance you lesbians.

So now with all that going on, let's add some more drama and stress to the mix. Let's try to find a way to really fuck everything up. Oh oh! I know! Let's sell the company that Ryan works for and not even send out an email about it. Excellent work! Fuck. So now I have all the stress of money and timing and will we be able to afford this and that, mixed in with what if my job isn't there tomorrow? Good times again.

That's not it. No no. That would be too easy. Let's add in the stress of trying to figure out how much house we can afford, how much of a down payment we will have, what kind of house, what city and so on. But wait! What about a honeymoon? Sure you have to plan that out too. There is another thing to worry about.

So yeah. I very well may end up bald with hypertension at the end of this whole damn thing. Can't wait till we have kids....

So I just got off of my vacation from work. I took a few days off to relax and not think about shit. Want to hear some great luck? We decide on Memorial day, that what better way to honor...umm...memorials than to barbeque in the old back yard? Get a few friends over, drink some beers, and eat some food. What could go wrong right? Well I start up the charcoal grill and it immediately began clouding up. Not like the, "Hey guys, just gonna sprinkle a touch ok?" I am talking the sky goes black, 40 mile an hour wind, pieces of tree in the streets, and out goes my fire kind of rain. Why not add some hail into the mix? Well why the fuck not? The torrential downpour of it raining cats and dogs lasted about a half hour. After the clouds relaxed a tad, we were able to keep on cooking. Which got me to thinking....

What if it really fucking rained cats and dogs? All out Poodles, SharPei's, Chihauhau's, Tabby cats, Persian cats, umm....other kinds of cats, and Rottweiler's and shit? How fucked up would our roads be if all over the place were dead dogs and cats that fell from the sky? And you want to talk about hail damage? Holy shit. I could only imagine what the fuck would happen to a car if a Great Dane fell out of the sky and right onto my hood. And those three black chicks who sang about it raining men? What the fuck would you do? Catch them? How the hell are you going to catch a dude fall out of the sky at like Mach 1? At the least, the very least, you would break your arms trying and he would die anyways. Those chicks were masochistic necrophiliacs. Cats and dogs would be bad enough, but men would fuck shit up.

I guess that is about it. I don't really have shit else to say, so I guess I will leave you with this:

"When in doubt, rub one out."

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