Ren and Stimpy Get Married…

I think my shower was too hot, maybe.  I don’t know.  Somehow didn’t notice until the very end.  Desperate to pull the curtain open and feel a rush of cool air overtake me.  None did.  Stagnance.  The thought of anything on my body right now is mentally and physically overwhelming.  Couldn’t even handle my towel for more than a few seconds.  I’m sitting cross legged, skin still kind of damp, hair dripping rivulets down my back and shoulder, absorbing into the soft fabric cushion of my brand new office chair.  Being wet like this, after a few minutes out of the heat of the shower, my body will probably begin to cool very quickly, especially now that the air conditioner just kicked on.  
 
Was feeling easily overwhelmed earlier today too, by things like loud noise and thirst…I feel this grating dryness in me sometimes, and if I don’t have something to sip right then and there, I start to feel anxious and vulnerable, agitated, depressed.  Only when I’m very tired, though.  Fatigued myself running so many errands today, the faggots in the back seat, making a lot of noise.  They were pretty nice though, overall.  Sullivan kept playing that annoying "What does the fox say?" song on his phone very loudly, and almost constantly imitated the noise that the fox made whenever he wasn’t playing the song on his phone, but complimented my embroidery-inset cutout shorts and my light-teal t-shirt with two big lovey dovey cherries on it and the words Mon Chéri that I wore to be ultra casual.  We ate upstairs at Wegmans in a dim secluded balconied section with the flower department below in full view.  Where I normally sit.  As we walked to Carvel to attempt to get ice cream cones, the faggots started an argument about a paper cup.  Sullivan was mad that Gil threw away his own cup from Wegmans after eating and then took his from him and filled it with soda, when Sullivan had wanted water.  "You didn’t even end up liking that goddamn strawberry soda!  You threw it out on that potted plant!  And now the cup’s all mucked up and I can’t fill it with water or it’ll be gross!" Sullivan screamed at the top of his lungs.  He seemed genuinely angry.  Ice cream place was overpopulated, so we just left and ran errands.  
 
Gil, apparently, had eaten too much pizza and almost a whole chicken upstairs at Wegmans, and proceeded to tell us all over and over how his ass needed "to give birth", as he kept saying.  He refused to stop at any bathrooms, but kept talking about it in gruesome detail. I found it disturbing that every few minutes he asked me if I’d be his "midwife".  I said to him, "I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no butt-babies."  Then he kept saying he was going to name the baby La’Quonda.  He complained so much that William offered to just drop him back home for the night, which he agreed to, and which I thought was funny.  Sullivan stayed with us, and I went to five different grocery stores looking for buttermilk for a cake I’m going to make tomorrow.  Every place but one had only low-fat buttermilk, which I’ve found to add such a watery taste and texture to any recipe I’ve tried to use it in.  Whole buttermilk is the only way to go, if you care about flavor and texture of your baked goods.  As far as being healthy, which is also a priority of mine, if one does not overindulge in desserts, they will not affect one’s weight.  I find it impossible to overindulge in desserts I really like, because I eat them so slowly and really savor each bite, each taste, each second in my mouth, and I tend to get full or fully satisfied before I even finish my portion, and then I stop.  Normally, with the company I keep, if I make a big two layer cake, a pie, etc., I’m usually very very lucky if I get a second piece sometime before it’s all gone.  
 
Speaking of butt-babies, as I’ve been saying to William for a couple of months that Gil and Sullivan are about to get married and have butt-babies (I say that about every gay male couple planning to get married), last Sunday they were officially wed.  Upstairs at this horribly pretentious restaurant called Alchemy.  They came out in footed fleece pajamas with tuxedo-prints on the fronts, and were married by a female lesbian rabbi, the mother of our dear friend Lisa’s unfriendly husband.  The ceremony took place directly in front of a very well stocked bar, so it looked like they were getting married on an altar of booze, which was hilarious.  As they exchanged their vows, Gil got all teary-eyed and it looked on the surface to be very touching.  I, however, was unable to find it touching and just kind of felt bad for Gil because Sullivan’s been telling me in private since he announced they were getting married that the marriage is basically one big joke to him and that he agreed to it so Gil could get on his health insurance plan.  When he gave William the details for the prenup he wanted him to draft, it seemed very much that he was doing so with the express intent to get divorced from Gil at some point.  Sullivan seemed apathetic as he spoke his vows.
 
I had helped William work up a joke speech to give at the wedding, and he was prepared to get up and say something like, "When I was asked to speak at this wedding, I was totally shocked.  Especially because I voted against this all last November!"  Then he was going to look around the room for someone who looked uncomfortable to be there, point to the person, and say, "You look like you voted against it too!" and move on to make jokes about gay marriages like this one hopefully reducing the spread of AIDS, exclaim that at least these two creeps weren’t trying to adopt a child, and then liken the union to Ren and Stimpy getting married, Sullivan being the big stupid one and Gil being the little crazy one…But we weren’t told the wedding speeches were to be given a mere few seconds after the actual ceremony, standing in front of the couple on the same spot on which they were just wed, the lesbian rabbi standing beside each speaker.  We thought the speeches would take place after a meal, or after people were sitting and relaxed and had a few drinks in them.
 
William had to wing it, for the most part, which he was brilliant at, as he’s incredibly good at being outwardly charming and winning over a crowd.  He left the gay marriage vote joke out, which was a fortunate thing, as we found out later that the man we’d pinpointed as being especially uncomfortable there, who William was going to call out, was Gil’s mother’s boyfriend.  Would have been funny, though.  To us.  He left the AIDS joke out too, but did talk about being glad they weren’t adopting a child, lengthened the joke about this being like Ren and Stimpy getting married, added a joke about it being appropriate that they’d gotten married on an altar of booze, and spoke of some of Sullivan’s notorious hijinks in public.  Almost everyone laughed at appropriate times.  Or appropriately inappropriate times.
 
Afterward, we ended up seated with Gil’s and Sullivan’s gay neighbors, one of whom Sullivan regularly inserts his dick into.  They were very agreeable.  I glanced across the room at Lisa occasionally and her smile seemed to broaden every time.  She looked absolutely beautiful in a little black belted sweater set, slightly bustier than usual, and a soft pink floral skirt that ended just a couple of inches above her thighs.  I loved that she was showing off her thighs, as she usually goes to great measures to hide them, as they are sort of full thighs, a little meaty, but I think they’re gorgeous.  She’s my only female friend who likes wearing pink, as I do.  That day, however, I was in a spaghetti strapped royal blue slub-knit dress that came in flatteringly under the bust and had little blue gauzy ruffles fluttering at the top.  Sullivan walked by our table, hovered above me looking down, called out my name quite loudly and announced that he could see my cleavage.  I think he’d already downed a few glasses of champagne by that point.  He brought his father by to introduce to us and the man looked just like his son, but with a beard.  Same goofy look on his face.  I thought at first that the middle aged man was just steadying his hands on my shoulders a bit, as the aisle was narrow, but his hands proceeded to roam up and down my upper arms, shoulders, and neck in long flowing motions, the whole time he was standing there.  I was kind of glad when he walked away.  
 
When it was time to leave, I hugged Lisa briefly but warmly and chatted with Sullivan’s mom, who is awesome.  A very mannish looking woman came up and introduced herself to William, gave me a short, swift, and shockingly unexpected glare, and said she loved his speech and his humor so much.  I opened my mouth and extended my hand to try to remain polite and introduce myself to her, but she ignored it and talked in a way that I couldn’t get a word in.  Lisa noticed and tried to introduce me to her, as she knows her, said all the right words, but the woman clearly did not want to be introduced to me.  I smiled at Lisa and tried to take it in stride, but I couldn’t help feeling a little shocked and hurt.  Don’t know what I ever did to that woman to make her act that way towards me.  Maybe just something about my very existence.  
 
On the way out, hugged Gil and Sullivan and congratulated them on their marriage.  Lisa’s husband was the wedding photographer, and though he has done many weddings, including one of mine, and has lots of amazing and expensive camera equipment, he takes some of the worst wedding photos imaginable.  Gil and Sullivan pulled me over to the spot they were taking pictures, and asked me to take a photo with them.  I took one look at Lisa’s husband,– whom I’ll call Wheel, since the tattoo across one of his eyes is shaped like one, and because everyone loves hanging out with sweet Lisa but hates having to endure him coming along– and had horrific flashbacks of him photographing me at my own wedding, remembered how awful and unflattering every single photo of me and every one of my guests was, how none of them turned out to be usable, and felt a sudden panic.  I knew I was being rude, and felt bad about it before I even denied their simple and loving request, but there was no way in heaven, hell, purgatory, or any place in between that I was going to allow Wheel to photograph me again, if I had any control over it.  I quickly told them I didn’t feel like having my picture taken and I could tell Gil was insulted.  Sullivan didn’t seem to care, as he picked me up by my ribs and spun me around and thanked me profusely for coming.  Clearly quite drunk by that time, he shouted comments at my rear end like, "Shake that thang!" and "I’m going to stand here and watch you walk away, girl!  Whoo-child!"  Which made me laugh.  
 
I texted Gil after I left and explained about the photo thing and told him I felt really bad about it.  He said he understood and told me not to worry.  I had a late lunch with Gil and Sullivan the following day, and Gil immediately plopped down next to me, opened his mouth wide, shook his head, and announced that those were THE WORST PHOTOS OF PEOPLE HE’D EVER SEEN.  He seemed absolutely in shock over it.  I saw the photos when I got home, as Wheel had put them all over facebook.  And my God, they were unflattering!  Gil’s pretty slim, but had a big double chin in every picture.  Their gay neighbors, who are rail-thin, were sporting double chins.  Everyone was excessively shiny and caught at the most unflattering angles possible, making the most horrible facial expressions.  If I’d known they were using Wheel as a wedding photographer, I would have warned them.  William gave them his original speech, and they went on and on about how he should have just done it.  It definitely would have been funny to some.  But horrifying to others.  
 
So now they’re married, and maybe that’s why Gil’s having butt-babies.