A Little Too Quiet

With my sister getting married this past weekend, I expected to have a ton of "older brother" stories to share. My family getting together in large groups usually lends itself to embarrassing moments and bad decisions. But throughout the entire weekend, I couldn't find a single moment that stood out as a moment-ruiner. We had a few close calls, but nothing strikingly stupid or robustly ridiculous. One of my older brothers prepared a bride-specific limerick for the occasion. But when he asked if he could read it, my sister answered with a simple, "No." And he obliged. Which, to be honest, was out of character for him. And when the officiant asked, "Who gives this woman?" my father responded without a British accent and without any silly antics. So that was surprising.

In fact, the only thing that happened that I would normally share here was my son showing everyone his outstanding (genetically-inherited) dance moves. I don't have a copy of the video yet, but it will be on YouTube as soon as I do. He was busting moves left and right. I think if any of the guests knew his name, they would have been chanting it. He even got in a dance-off with the groom. They each attempted to copy the other's moves. Then my son decided to literally dance circles around him. That's when he won. It was adorable and awesome.

So, no embarrassing moments to ruin my sister's big day. No rain, no crisis, no problems at all. And only one casualty*. Overall, a very good wedding weekend.

*The flowergirl, my daughter, fell and busted her lip 30 seconds before the ceremony. So she finished her duties with a fat lip and a blood-stained dress. My joke of the night was, "You should see the other baby."

Tightening The Belt

A few years ago I bought two suits. They were on sale as buy one, get one free promotion. So I decided to get one of them that fit me at the time and buy the other intentionally smaller because I planned on losing weight. And as it turned out, that was a brilliant plan. I started out with one suit that fit and one that was too small. Then I lost a good amount of weight. Now I have one suit that fits and one that's too big. And that's a good feeling. Of course when I say I have one suit that "fits" I don't mean it fits perfectly. It's still a little snug.

Well, my sister is getting married this weekend. And my plan a few weeks ago was to lose enough weight to be comfortable in my smaller suit. And as it turned out, that was a very stupid plan. I can wear the suit now, but it's a little too slimming. In other words, I have to suck in and hold my breath when I button it. And that's not very comfortable.

So I was explaining this to my wife last night and she panicked a little bit. She said it wasn't going to work and we should have thought of this a month ago, and this is really not good, etc. But I decided that I can lose enough of my girth to get it to fit in the next two days. And she thinks I'm crazy. So I bet her $100 that it would fit much better by tomorrow night. She didn't take the bet (unfortunately), but I'll still feel vindicated when I'm wearing the suit at the wedding and it looks better than it did last night. That'll show her. So where can I get a manly girdle in the next 36 hours?

Cheap Thrills

I'm a self-proclaimed nerd. I don't mind admitting that because I don't think it's embarrassing. I'd rather know too much about stuff than not enough of anything. So I wear my nerd badge with honor. But I'm also a self-proclaimed wuss. And that's not one you can really be proud of. Nerds can say, "I've memorized 98 digits of pi." And people will be impressed. They'll pick you last in sports, but they'll be impressed. But I can't say, "I'm afraid of heights, spiders, and girls," and expect anyone to be impressed in the slightest. They'll just look at me sadly and assume I own an inhaler.

And in certain ways I don't mind being a wuss. It's the main reason I'll never get horribly injured in a motorcycle accident. And it means I won't be the guy on the news who got too close to the edge and fell into the Grand Canyon. But sometimes I feel like I want to change. I feel like I want to put some adventure into my life. I can understand the appeal for people who take risks for fun. Skydiving and bungie jumping and giving somebody your hidden immunity idol finally make a little more sense. I still think all those things are insanely stupid, but I see the merit now.

So I've started easing my way into risk-taking fun. I jaywalked recently. I didn't even try to make it to the crosswalk. The last time I went swimming, I finished eating just 6 minutes before getting in the water. I also went jogging last week without stretching once. And just the other day I switched lanes without checking my blind spot. It sent a chill down my spine, but I did it anyway. And if that's not thrill-seeking, I don't know what is.

In Case Of Emergency... Break The Rules

My freshman year in college, I saved the following as my voicemail:

"Hey, this is Taylor. Leave a message and I'll call you back. If this is an emergency and you need me immediately, call three times in a row and I'll do whatever I can to call you back."

I thought it was brilliant. That way, no matter what the circumstance, I could be available at any given time as long as I heard the phone ring (or feel it buzz). So if you needed something badly, you could call three times and I'd walk out of a meeting, or walk out of class, or interrupt a regularly-scheduled broadcast to help you out. But here's some advice. Never give your brother specific instructions on how to get you to drop whatever you're doing to talk to him. He'll probably do what my older brother did and take full advantage of it.

The main problem was that no one ever had a real emergency. So every time I got called three times in a row, it was a false alarm. And it was mostly my older brother. Which is why I had to change my voicemail and abort the idea altogether.

The first time it happened, though, I kinda freaked out. I was in the middle of a Political Science class, and my phone started buzzing. I saw it was my older brother, so I declined it. Then he called again, so I declined again. Then he called again. And I went into emergency mode. I threw my books into my backpack, stuffed my pen in my pocket and bolted out the door. Then I frantically called him back. Here's how that conversation went:

Me: "Is everything okay?! What's going on?!"
Him: "Nothing much. What're you up to?"
Me: "What am I up to? Is there an emergency?"
Him: "Oh... uh... no."
Me: "Then why did you call three times in a row?"
Him: "Well, I knew you were in class and we were gonna go get some pizza for lunch. And I knew that was the only way I could get you to leave your class and come with us."
Me: "Are you serious?! I just rushed out my class like a madman and you... wait, pizza from where?"

So that was the beginning of the end for my brilliant voicemail plan. Now I just stick to the basic stuff. I might even revert back to the robotic lady voice that just gives your number and says you're not available. It makes me feel like I have a robot secretary.

Lookin' Like A Fool...

I think it's wrong to laugh at people, for the most part. I don't think it's right to insult others for fun or mock people (at least, not to their faces). But there are some people I've met who I can't help but laugh at. And I will even sometimes make a point to openly laugh at them. For example, when I see a teenager with his jeans down to his knees, then a pair of basketball shorts down to his thighs, then a pair of boxers showing, all the while holding this ridiculousness up with one of his hands as he walks... I laugh. I'm not really into fashion, but I see no point in wearing a pair of pants that require you to hold them up while you walk. If I have to hold my pants up, that means they've either torn suddenly or I've walked in front of Wayne Szalinski's machine without warning.

So anyway, I usually make it very obvious that I'm laughing at how stupid he looks. In fact, I will often point so as not to leave any doubt that he is the reason I'm laughing. My wife doesn't like this because she thinks I'll get shot or mugged or something. But I'm usually in the mall or in my car. And let's face it; I can outrun anyone whose pants are at their ankles.

I did this to a kid in a gas station parking lot over the weekend. I made sure he was looking at me, then I stared at his pants and laughed very deliberately and loudly. And his friend whispered something to him. I'm assuming it was, "Dude, that guy's laughing at your pants." So the pants-down kid frowned, and the friend joined me in laughing. I felt a little vindicated that a teenager realized the ridiculousness of his friend's clothing choices. Maybe I made a difference in that kid's life. Maybe he'll clean himself up, buy some pants that fit (and maybe a belt), and become a great young man. It's nice to know I could have changed his life. They shot and mugged me, but it just might have been worth it.