The Scamp is Accidentally Funny

Today I finally got an email from a supervisor that I am excited about.

I am a handful of edits away from a complete draft of my theory chapter. Considering the last draft I submitted was ‘confusing’ and ‘unclear,’ I am so chuffed that I am almost done. Of course, I would not have been able to get that far without having sent the draft to my mom as an extra set of eyes. Turns out, I am not as bad a writer as I thought.

I may actually finish this thesis.

That aside, I have been dipping my toe into the festival. I went and saw Ari Shaffir do a set on being Jewish and it was the best thing ever. I laughed the entire time. He’s in the city this month to prepare for a Netflix special, and I cannot wait until the final set is done. It probably won’t be half as funny though when it isn’t done in front of a room full of people who know nothing about Judaism.

Since one of the besties is in theatre, and working during the festival, when she mentioned that she was out and about, I knew I had to detour in her direction. She introduced me to the writer for the show she is working on, and to a casting director and I felt like my job is borning in comparison so I blurted out the most outrageous thing I could think of: I was an accidental Jewish guest at a white supremacist wedding.

The story was a big hit with the crowd, and I think maybe it is time I shared it with the world.

The rest of this is the how the big day unfolded to the best of my recollection. I am going to try and avoid using names, although most of my family and friends from California will have an idea of who this is.

When I was 21 years old, I was dating a very sweet guy who lives in Hollywood. The house he grew up was the house that his dad grew up in, and his dad knows everyone and anyone. He has amazing stories that he likes to tell (often on a loop. I heard the same ones a lot in the two years I dated his son) and was often collecting strays that would live at the house for anywhere from a few days to a few months, to a few years. It was one such stray that had been cared for by the family that asked if he could have his wedding in the giant front yard of the Hollywood house.

It was summertime (I think it was June) and I spent my time going back and forth between my parent’s house in Orange County to the boyfriend’s house in Hollywood. I got to the house in the late afternoon for the rehearsal dinner. The first thing that I noticed was the motorcycles and muscle cars. I have an El Camino and the boyfriend has a classic Mustang (I loved that car), so I was immediately interested in the cars.

Unfortunately, that was the last thing I was interested in for the rest of the weekend. I walked into the house and felt like I had walked into a Klan meeting. The groom was a tall dude covered in tattoos. He was wearing jeans and white undershirt with the sleeves rolled rockabilly style. His tattoos showcased his love of his heritage….including the swastika on his neck. The bride to be was also covered in tattoos and piercings, including the SS lightning bolts. Their friends looked much the same. During the course of the party, the two got more and more hammered and then shared how they met. They had met through MySpace (which tells you how long ago this happened) when they each thought the other was someone else. They talked for a couple of weeks before they realised the mistake that they had made, and after a few laughs (and not a lot of time) they decided that they couldn’t live without each other and decided to get married.

Strong foundations for a good marriage, right?

The next day my boyfriend and his friends helped put out chairs, make sure the front yard was clean and went about helping set up for the BBQ after the ceremony. The best man, my boyfriend and I went to get as much ice as we could for all of the booze that was now sitting in the driveway of the Hollywood house. During this outing, I learned that the best man was married, he liked muscle cars, and he had a habit of lingering a little bit too long when he touched me. I changed into a nice sundress and tried to stay out of the way while everyone got dressed. The wedding party had been drinking since about 9am, and by the time guests started arriving, the wedding party was beyond three sheets to the wind. Even my boyfriend’s dad was drunk….and he was the one in charge of officiating the wedding!

The best guest of the day was the mother of the groom. She showed up with her very fake boobs spilling out of a very tight dress that was better fitted to someone half her age. She was very theatrical and dramatic and did not really act the way that you would expect a mother to act. The wedding was delayed for a couple of hours, although I can’t for the life of me remember why. People showed up in jeans, baseball hats, leather. Their tattoos were crude and slightly offensive, and I decided that it was best if I just made myself scarce. When it was finally time to start, one of the groomsmen had lost his shirt, and his very large tattoo of the word ‘thirsty’ across his stomach was on display. He sported a backwards baseball cap and several beers. The groom could barely stand up straight and the officiant was in shorts and a black shirt with a paper collar to make him look like a priest. He was swaying slightly as well.  The bride walked down the aisle to some hardcore song, but she looked stunning in her white strapless mermaid gown and tiny net veil.

The ceremony was short, the kiss at the end sloppy.

And then the fun began. BBQ and booze flowed. I felt very uncomfortable in a crowd of people that proudly displayed their racist ideology, and even asked my boyfriend at one point if I had been invited to the wedding as a ritual sacrifice. He failed to see the problem, so I hid in his room for an hour or so and text my mom about the ridiculousness of what was going on. When my boyfriend neglected to come to find me, I decided to venture back out. One of his friends was sitting on a couch on the phone arguing with his girlfriend. It was obvious that she was mad at him, and while I started to move out of the bedroom, the mother of the groom came tumbling in dragging the best man by his tie (yeah, he was wearing a tie, go figure). The two of them disappeared into the bathroom together. I looked over at my boyfriend’s friend, and both of us were shocked and confused….so much so that he interrupted his girlfriend and asked if they could pause the fight so that he could tell her what we just saw.

Needless to say that a slutty mother of the groom having sex with the married best man is a good way to end an argument.

They came stumbling out a few minutes later and I went outside to find my boyfriend and tell him what I had just seen. I was waiting for them to cut and serve the cake, but by 11 or so I was tired of waiting and went to bed.

At some point after that, the groom learned that his friend had slept with his mom. They got in a massive fight in the front yard and the best man lost a tooth. The bride and groom then got in a massive screaming match and she threw her wedding ring over the fence and into the middle of a very busy street in front of the Hollywood house (It was never found). They slept separately and were still not speaking the next day.

I learned a valuable lesson that day….always look at the wedding invitation first. If it has a swastika on it, respectfully decline.

As I write this, I wonder if it is as funny as it was when I told it to a shocked audience last night in an effort to make them laugh. They joked that I could have my own fringe show, and said they could not write a better scene. I hadn’t thought about that in years, and now I wonder if those two are still together and whether or not they have started their own little Hitler Youth group.

 

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The Scamp and a Wedding

Yesterday I watched my college roommate get married.

After a 12 hour round trip drive, I am pretty much fried, so I will leave my corner of blogging heaven with these

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This girl mailed me baklava to Scotland when I was depressed about David, sent me puppy videos when Brian dumped me, and let me snark with her at her own wedding. Despite not having physically seen each other since I graduated in 2009, it was like no time passed at all. The hug I got, and the little bit of one on one time was great. Next time I am shooting for a less formal reunion though. I felt honored that she let me share her special day with her and her new husband. I knew 5 years ago that they were going to get married, and I know that they are going to have babies that love the Dodgers and hate football. I cannot wait to see what the future brings for them.

 

Mazel you two crazy lovebirds!

 

I’ll get back to the regularly scheduled blogging tomorrow.

maybe.

The Scamp and Change

I like to think that I am constantly changing, maturing and evolving, but despite my best thoughts, for the most part I am a creature of habit and there are some habits that are hard for me to break. I did a lot of maturing and changing while I was in Scotland, but found myself slipping back into the old habits when I came home. I’ve had to be kicked in the butt more than once and reminded that I am not the person I was a year ago.

This weekend I got to attend the wedding of two people that I care about a lot. I met them in Merced, and have remained close to them since. I saw them a lot when I was in San Diego, and I got care package in Scotland with pictures and drawings from their daughter.  Their wedding was special because it was a celebration a long time in the making, and it meant the chance to reunite a lot of people that I had not seen since I left Merced.

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To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to the awkward college reunion. I’m not good at talking about myself, and I am not that good at small talk. This is the second wedding I have attended this summer for people I went to college with, and the second chance to catch up with people I used to spend a lot of time with. Despite my antisocial leanings,  it was interesting to hear what everyone is doing now, and nice to see that many of them are doing work in their fields of interest.

The one thing I was dreading was running into my ex-boyfriend. The relationship ended three years ago, and while it was a less then pleasant ending,  there are no lingering feelings or bad feelings, I just didn’t feel the need to play catch-up with him.  I was doing pretty good at the avoidance thing. I didn’t see him at all until the reception started, and even then, I spent my time catching up with one of my favorite people from college, and getting to know his girlfriend. Things were going great until I got cornered and forced into a conversation I didn’t want to have. He started the conversation by awkwardly referencing our bad breakup and asking me if I still hated him. Old Kim would have done this:

girl-thing-20but I took the high road and right when I could feel myself getting annoyed enough to hit him, I ended the conversation by telling him the only thing I miss about him is his dog, and I didn’t care about the breakup when it happened and I don’t care about it now.

That is mostly true. I cared then, but I don’t now. The me now can’t imagine what the me then saw in him, and is sad that at one point, I loved him. I mentioned this to friends after the wedding and one of them said something that really stuck with me. He told me that he believes that people are never the same. The him of now is not the him of five minutes ago, and not the him of an hour from now. The things that he says now he may not believe later, and that is perfectly okay, That really stuck with me because 3 years ago I was in love with the ex. I was happy with him, and it was a good relationship. When I saw him this weekend, I couldn’t figure out what I ever saw in him, and how I could love a slob with no direction. Then I figured out that the me three years ago was okay with that, and the me now knows that I deserve (and have) better.

All in all, I’m glad I went to the wedding and was a part of the mini college reunion. I like the change that many of them are doing, and I am proud of myself for keeping my hands to myself and my mouth mostly in check.

I played this song all the way down the hill after the wedding and toasted myself for taking one more step in becoming an adult.