Hey Guys and Dolls,
Well, it's Sunday and I always keep my word (except when someone asks if I'll marry them). So back to Sam and Ella's wedding. After I gave my (kickass) toast and the party started to die down (not that ANY party dies down when the Calhouns are present. They put the "hoot" in hootananny) a woman with tomato red hair (dyed, of course) and an ol' southern twang approached me and I almost fell off of my seat. The last time I had seen her was close to twenty years ago when she had broke Uncle Hor's heart. Yup... it was none other than Dolly herself. She had had her one hit wonder in Nashville and had been reduced to writing and performing commercial jingles.... which is how she came to be a guest at Sam Cartright's wedding. She had collaborated with him on a public service announcement to clean up the river and save the trout. Actually, it's a catchy little tune. Anyway, Dolly was as gracious as ever and actually it was good to see her. She was accompanied by a polite, solemn cowboy named Randy although strictly in the friendship capacity. Randy choreographed the commercial. Anyway, although it was great to see Dolly again, it sort of put me in a bit of a conundrum. So, I'm asking for all of your help again. Do I tell Uncle Hor, who had his heart broken by this woman two decades ago that I actually broke bread with her (so to speak) at a trailer park in Tennessee? Or do I let sleeping dogs lie and continue to let Uncle Hor live in ignorant bliss while he plays his harmonica in a band of seniors who practice in a garage and play pancake breakfasts at the local Knights of Columbus? Weigh in and let me know what you think. Until then... cheers
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Occupational Detour
Hey y'all,
Last post was one week ago today... VDay (or D Day as some might consider it). Hope all you lonely hearts out there survived. As for the delay in posting... my abundant apologies, but in my line of work, I'm not around much and believe it or not, not every place I travel to has wireless... as is the case in Bora Bora, where I just spent the last week and toasted the wedding of a retired entrepreneur and his MUCH younger fourth wife. Anyway, they wanted a destination wedding and as a result I got to spend a fabulous week in the tropics instead of the frozen tundra that is Boston, Massachusetts as of late.
But enough about entrepreneur guy (I'd tell you who it was but I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Let me just put it this way.... ever heard of Apple?!). And Bora Bora isn't the only place without wireless. Turns out Shady Creek, Tennessee, home of Sam and Ella Cartright, doesn't have wireless either. Which is why I couldn't write my obits while I was there toasting their wedding. Which is why I got fired from the Hub. Yup... you heard me.... fired. I had no choice but to continue toasting weddings. As you now know, everything turned out great in the end but at that time, I was definately up the creek without a paddle. But you just never know how the universe works sometimes. Sometimes it's a necessary pre-requisite to go through all the bumps before you get to where you're really supposed to be. That's my take on it, anyway.
That's all I got for tonight but make sure you tune in tomorrow (or maybe Saturday... but DEFINATELY by Sunday). I have one more entry to delight you with on the topic of Sam and Ella's wedding, and believe me.... this one's a doozy. So make sure you tune in to see what I got to say. It's not to be missed! Until then... cheers
Last post was one week ago today... VDay (or D Day as some might consider it). Hope all you lonely hearts out there survived. As for the delay in posting... my abundant apologies, but in my line of work, I'm not around much and believe it or not, not every place I travel to has wireless... as is the case in Bora Bora, where I just spent the last week and toasted the wedding of a retired entrepreneur and his MUCH younger fourth wife. Anyway, they wanted a destination wedding and as a result I got to spend a fabulous week in the tropics instead of the frozen tundra that is Boston, Massachusetts as of late.
But enough about entrepreneur guy (I'd tell you who it was but I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Let me just put it this way.... ever heard of Apple?!). And Bora Bora isn't the only place without wireless. Turns out Shady Creek, Tennessee, home of Sam and Ella Cartright, doesn't have wireless either. Which is why I couldn't write my obits while I was there toasting their wedding. Which is why I got fired from the Hub. Yup... you heard me.... fired. I had no choice but to continue toasting weddings. As you now know, everything turned out great in the end but at that time, I was definately up the creek without a paddle. But you just never know how the universe works sometimes. Sometimes it's a necessary pre-requisite to go through all the bumps before you get to where you're really supposed to be. That's my take on it, anyway.
That's all I got for tonight but make sure you tune in tomorrow (or maybe Saturday... but DEFINATELY by Sunday). I have one more entry to delight you with on the topic of Sam and Ella's wedding, and believe me.... this one's a doozy. So make sure you tune in to see what I got to say. It's not to be missed! Until then... cheers
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy V-Day
Hey peeps,
So, it's Valentines's Day. A day filled with red roses, candied hearts and more chocolate than I could possibly imagine consuming. For lovers, it's a day to celebrate; for thirteen year olds- a day filled with the promise of a kiss or the growing pains of unrequited love (sigh... remember THOSE days); and for the single, well, it's either a day of crushing despair or liberating freedom.
So where do you weigh in? As for me, I'll continue to celebrate my freedom. I get enough romance 365 days of the year. I've frequented more weddings than the Wedding Crashers and I've done my share of celebrating romance, even when it doesn't apply to me. Actually, I think I deserve some sort of medal or something. Anyway, today is just like any other day to me (well, in my line of work, nor exactly) and I'm cool with that. I'll leave Cupid to the lovers, the dreamers, the romantics and the seventh graders passing love notes in the hallway. I'm content sharing a rare night at home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine and watching America's Best Dance Crew (GREAT show if you haven't caught it... Thursday nights at 10:00 on MTV. I have a penchant for MTV reality shows... it's a guilty pleasure). But wherever and however you celebrate today... I wish you well. Until later... cheers
So, it's Valentines's Day. A day filled with red roses, candied hearts and more chocolate than I could possibly imagine consuming. For lovers, it's a day to celebrate; for thirteen year olds- a day filled with the promise of a kiss or the growing pains of unrequited love (sigh... remember THOSE days); and for the single, well, it's either a day of crushing despair or liberating freedom.
So where do you weigh in? As for me, I'll continue to celebrate my freedom. I get enough romance 365 days of the year. I've frequented more weddings than the Wedding Crashers and I've done my share of celebrating romance, even when it doesn't apply to me. Actually, I think I deserve some sort of medal or something. Anyway, today is just like any other day to me (well, in my line of work, nor exactly) and I'm cool with that. I'll leave Cupid to the lovers, the dreamers, the romantics and the seventh graders passing love notes in the hallway. I'm content sharing a rare night at home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine and watching America's Best Dance Crew (GREAT show if you haven't caught it... Thursday nights at 10:00 on MTV. I have a penchant for MTV reality shows... it's a guilty pleasure). But wherever and however you celebrate today... I wish you well. Until later... cheers
Friday, February 8, 2008
Southern Hospitality
Hey Y'all,
So, I'm over the Superbowl loss. I've had time to mourn and, hey, I even won $125 bucks from Uncle Hor. Things are definitely looking up.
So last time I left off on the story of my past, which was a few blog entries ago (I tend to deviate a lot), I told you how I had met Cruise Cartwright at Morty and Addy's wedding, and how I ended up in a trailer park in Tennessee. Sometimes you just don't know where life is going to take you. Anyway, I learned a lot during my time slumming it (J.K.- that was rude). First off, I learned how to use a digital camera, and I turned into a damn good photographer while I was at it. Second, I learned that you can squeeze a lot of stuff into 200 square feet of space; including a couch/lumpy bed, a microwave and a pseudo kitchen table. Lesson people; less is ALWAYS more. So clear our you closets and drawers and downsize for the good of the environment and your own sanity (that was my green plug for the day). I also learned that Tennessee breeds some of the best "herbal refreshment" around... not that I'd know form personal experience.... only that Uncle Huey makes quite a pretty penny from it. It enabled him to buy a whole three cases of Coors from the local convenient store for Sam and Ella's nuptials. But besides that, I learned that love can happen anywhere... even in a trailer park in Tennessee.
When I first met Sam and Ella, I thought Sam just wanted Ella's hot body and I thought Ella was definately a golddigger, and who could blame her... if I grew up in a trailer park, I'd want the easiest exit out, too. But then I began to see things that people in love just can't fake. Like, I'd see Sam unknowingly put his hand on Ella's shoulders and tickle them like he was speaking his own language. I'd see Ella look with wonder as Sam conducted a water test on the river and revel in the fact that, in their own way, they were trying to make the world a better place. I saw Ella make Sam eggs and bacon evey morning at 6:00 am because she wanted to. I'd hear the bed frame shake more nights than I care to count. And pretty soon I figured out that Sam and Ella were the real thing. There's no rhyme or reason to how love works and it certainly doesn't recognize geographical or socioeconomic boundaries. The best we can do is to recognize it when we see it and hold on tight and never let it go.
Or, at least, that's the way I see it as it applies to Sam and Ella, and the rest of the couples I've toasted. As for me personally, I'm happy being single, indpendent and in charge of my own check book (for now). Stay tuned to see if and when my own warped view on love changes. Until then.... cheers
So, I'm over the Superbowl loss. I've had time to mourn and, hey, I even won $125 bucks from Uncle Hor. Things are definitely looking up.
So last time I left off on the story of my past, which was a few blog entries ago (I tend to deviate a lot), I told you how I had met Cruise Cartwright at Morty and Addy's wedding, and how I ended up in a trailer park in Tennessee. Sometimes you just don't know where life is going to take you. Anyway, I learned a lot during my time slumming it (J.K.- that was rude). First off, I learned how to use a digital camera, and I turned into a damn good photographer while I was at it. Second, I learned that you can squeeze a lot of stuff into 200 square feet of space; including a couch/lumpy bed, a microwave and a pseudo kitchen table. Lesson people; less is ALWAYS more. So clear our you closets and drawers and downsize for the good of the environment and your own sanity (that was my green plug for the day). I also learned that Tennessee breeds some of the best "herbal refreshment" around... not that I'd know form personal experience.... only that Uncle Huey makes quite a pretty penny from it. It enabled him to buy a whole three cases of Coors from the local convenient store for Sam and Ella's nuptials. But besides that, I learned that love can happen anywhere... even in a trailer park in Tennessee.
When I first met Sam and Ella, I thought Sam just wanted Ella's hot body and I thought Ella was definately a golddigger, and who could blame her... if I grew up in a trailer park, I'd want the easiest exit out, too. But then I began to see things that people in love just can't fake. Like, I'd see Sam unknowingly put his hand on Ella's shoulders and tickle them like he was speaking his own language. I'd see Ella look with wonder as Sam conducted a water test on the river and revel in the fact that, in their own way, they were trying to make the world a better place. I saw Ella make Sam eggs and bacon evey morning at 6:00 am because she wanted to. I'd hear the bed frame shake more nights than I care to count. And pretty soon I figured out that Sam and Ella were the real thing. There's no rhyme or reason to how love works and it certainly doesn't recognize geographical or socioeconomic boundaries. The best we can do is to recognize it when we see it and hold on tight and never let it go.
Or, at least, that's the way I see it as it applies to Sam and Ella, and the rest of the couples I've toasted. As for me personally, I'm happy being single, indpendent and in charge of my own check book (for now). Stay tuned to see if and when my own warped view on love changes. Until then.... cheers
Monday, February 4, 2008
A Loss Observed
Hey Everyone,
In observance of the fall of the mighty Patriots, there will be no blog tonight (except for this blurb). I have much to tell about my weekend in Phoenix but I'm just not in the mood now. There is NOTHING more depressing than having to endure the utter bliss of drunk Giants fans at a wedding when your own beloved boys have fallen.
Anyway, that's it for tonight. Check out the cool link I added if you need something to lift your spirits. As for me, there is a bottle of pinot in the fridge with my name all over it. Stay strong New England. Until later... cheers
In observance of the fall of the mighty Patriots, there will be no blog tonight (except for this blurb). I have much to tell about my weekend in Phoenix but I'm just not in the mood now. There is NOTHING more depressing than having to endure the utter bliss of drunk Giants fans at a wedding when your own beloved boys have fallen.
Anyway, that's it for tonight. Check out the cool link I added if you need something to lift your spirits. As for me, there is a bottle of pinot in the fridge with my name all over it. Stay strong New England. Until later... cheers
Friday, February 1, 2008
Deviation Modified
Hey Guys and Gals,
Thanks for stopping by and a special shoutout to Anonymous who submitted his song... Good Things by the BoDeans which is a GOOD tune. Snaps to Anonymous and thanks for pointing out my faux-paus. Frequent flying can diminsh your mental acuity. And besides, all those New York teams are alike, anyway. At any rate, it's been corrected in the entry. So if you're reading this and have no idea what I'm talking about... phew!
So let's rewind a few blog entries and a few hundred weddings. How is it that I got from Morty and Addy's wedding to the wedding of a Cuban conquistador and his concubine? What could these two couples POSSIBLY have in common? The short answer is Cruise Cartwright. Well, sort of... in an indirect, not really related, roundabout way, but Cruise Cartwright ended up being my next client (sort of) which enabled this chain of events to ensue.
Let me start over.... so there I was after the toast at Morty and Addy's wedding. The Sarasota gang were drinking heavily, Morty and Addy were dancing cheek to cheek in the corner, oblivious to the world, and the rest of the guests were doing the Electric Slide. I was surveying the scene, enjoying a glass of wine when an eccentric, slick middle-elderly aged gent wearing a houndstooth suit saunters up to me, wanting to make my aquaintance. I had sort of sensed him watching me all night and it sort of gave me the creeps, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Cruise Cartwright, head hauncho of Southern Grass Tobacco Company down in Charleston (and multimillionaire to boot) hires me to toast the wedding of his son and his bride-to-be.
But there are complications. Many, many complications. First one being; Cruise Cartwright hasn't talked to his son, Sam, in over a year. Seems young, idealistic Sam had better aspirations for himself than being groomed for the family business and making a mill a year (at least it's more than a kilo- Yikes! It still sounds funny.) Turns out young, idealistic Sam moved to Tennessee to clean up the mighty Tennessee River and save the TROUT. And not only does he live in backcountry Tennessee, but he lives in a trailer park. A TRAILER PARK! I'de be a fool's imbecil if I picked a trailer park over a million plus a year, but hey, I'm liberal. To each his own. Anyway, before I knew it, I was on my way down to ol' Tennessee, to toast the wedding of a chain-smoking, multimillionaire's son who wants to save the trout. Life can't get much stranger. But in fact it does... get stranger, I mean. Turns out I'm hired undercover. Cruise doesn't want his son to know he hired me as a gift to him, because of the rift and everything, and at this point I'm afraid to argue because I'm pretty sure Cruise is involved in organized crime in some manner. Anyway, I sign on to go undercover as a reporter from the Tennessee Tribune, hired to visually preserve the days leading up to, as well as the day of, the nuptials of Sam Cartwright, independent warrior out to save the river and his lovely, young bride. Things that wouldn't be big news up here evidently are big news in places like backcountry Tennessee.
To sum up, I was freaking. I didn't know a thing about photography, much less digital cameras and I was pretty sure that if I didn't learn how to use the expensive piece of technology bestowed on me, one of my limbs would be cut off. Not to mention my accommodations would be a trailer for a week, but like I said before, I never compromise the integrity of words for anything.
So I took it. I accepted the gig. Trailer park and all. I upped my price to two thou at this point and besides sleeping on a lumpy couch, it seemed like easy money. Boy, was I wrong. About a lot of things. To hear more about my time at Shady Creek (that's the trailer park), tune in next week. As for me, I'm off to the Superbowl, peeps! Wish me well! Until then... cheers.
Thanks for stopping by and a special shoutout to Anonymous who submitted his song... Good Things by the BoDeans which is a GOOD tune. Snaps to Anonymous and thanks for pointing out my faux-paus. Frequent flying can diminsh your mental acuity. And besides, all those New York teams are alike, anyway. At any rate, it's been corrected in the entry. So if you're reading this and have no idea what I'm talking about... phew!
So let's rewind a few blog entries and a few hundred weddings. How is it that I got from Morty and Addy's wedding to the wedding of a Cuban conquistador and his concubine? What could these two couples POSSIBLY have in common? The short answer is Cruise Cartwright. Well, sort of... in an indirect, not really related, roundabout way, but Cruise Cartwright ended up being my next client (sort of) which enabled this chain of events to ensue.
Let me start over.... so there I was after the toast at Morty and Addy's wedding. The Sarasota gang were drinking heavily, Morty and Addy were dancing cheek to cheek in the corner, oblivious to the world, and the rest of the guests were doing the Electric Slide. I was surveying the scene, enjoying a glass of wine when an eccentric, slick middle-elderly aged gent wearing a houndstooth suit saunters up to me, wanting to make my aquaintance. I had sort of sensed him watching me all night and it sort of gave me the creeps, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Cruise Cartwright, head hauncho of Southern Grass Tobacco Company down in Charleston (and multimillionaire to boot) hires me to toast the wedding of his son and his bride-to-be.
But there are complications. Many, many complications. First one being; Cruise Cartwright hasn't talked to his son, Sam, in over a year. Seems young, idealistic Sam had better aspirations for himself than being groomed for the family business and making a mill a year (at least it's more than a kilo- Yikes! It still sounds funny.) Turns out young, idealistic Sam moved to Tennessee to clean up the mighty Tennessee River and save the TROUT. And not only does he live in backcountry Tennessee, but he lives in a trailer park. A TRAILER PARK! I'de be a fool's imbecil if I picked a trailer park over a million plus a year, but hey, I'm liberal. To each his own. Anyway, before I knew it, I was on my way down to ol' Tennessee, to toast the wedding of a chain-smoking, multimillionaire's son who wants to save the trout. Life can't get much stranger. But in fact it does... get stranger, I mean. Turns out I'm hired undercover. Cruise doesn't want his son to know he hired me as a gift to him, because of the rift and everything, and at this point I'm afraid to argue because I'm pretty sure Cruise is involved in organized crime in some manner. Anyway, I sign on to go undercover as a reporter from the Tennessee Tribune, hired to visually preserve the days leading up to, as well as the day of, the nuptials of Sam Cartwright, independent warrior out to save the river and his lovely, young bride. Things that wouldn't be big news up here evidently are big news in places like backcountry Tennessee.
To sum up, I was freaking. I didn't know a thing about photography, much less digital cameras and I was pretty sure that if I didn't learn how to use the expensive piece of technology bestowed on me, one of my limbs would be cut off. Not to mention my accommodations would be a trailer for a week, but like I said before, I never compromise the integrity of words for anything.
So I took it. I accepted the gig. Trailer park and all. I upped my price to two thou at this point and besides sleeping on a lumpy couch, it seemed like easy money. Boy, was I wrong. About a lot of things. To hear more about my time at Shady Creek (that's the trailer park), tune in next week. As for me, I'm off to the Superbowl, peeps! Wish me well! Until then... cheers.
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