Wedding review (and sandwiches too) So I have promised many of you a review of the infamous wedding I attended a few weeks ago. And while may promises may be fleeting, mine are not. They say 'better late than never' but since I said nothing about when I would post this, I feel I have nothing to apologise for. I've never been a big fan of apologies anyways. Since I am usually right, I haven't grown accustomed to having to apologise.

Well the day began as most do, with a caffine craving. But I will skip past the caffination station, the tie disaster, and my own poor timing, or rather, my inability to tell time, and go straight to the wedding. Surrounded by family that isnt mine, and dressed as a mafia Don from the mid 60's (way to stylish for the 50's) I waited patiently to the ceremony to start. It was more than a little awkward as I realised that I knew nobody but the bride, and of course she was a little busy. So I made idle conversation with the locals who seemed only mildly interested in me or what i had to say. Mildly interested in anything really, as i recall the crowd seemed rather sedated. Only the elderly, or 'Elders' as they like to be called (probably), seemed spry. All excited to see the family that had neglected them in thier retirement homes and complexes. Having people pay more attention to them in the few hours of the wedding than in the past year definately put a new spark in their battery.
People were starting to be seated In what turned out to be a beautiful setting; A large acreage in an isolated part of a nearly non-existant town. It was definatly a serene
situation, but it looked as though it was going to rain. I was prepared for this scenario, as i was wearing a microfibre rain coat, but much of the crowd looked as though they had dressed for the beach. And while I would never wish that on a close friend, I ALMOST wanted it to rain, just to liven people up a bit.
Luckly, if not eeriely, the sun came out at the exact moment the bride stepped out. And with it came the camera freaks. Not the photographers, mind you, but the camera freaks. The people that carry a pocket digital everywhere they go willing to flash-blind you every 2 minutes to 'preserve' the memories. I can only imagine the plastic memories these people must have. Artificial smiles all around as the 'memories' stare at you with demonic red-eye. With flashes everywhere it must have been distracting for the guests of honor put on display. They made it through though, a few laughs during the vows lightned the mood, then it was over. I had no idea how quick weddings really are, but I was more concerned with scrounging up some caffine, so I didn't put much thought into it.
Before I left though, I noticed a few shady looking characters gathering near a corner of the field. Being a shady character myself, I took it as an invitation, or maybe an obligation to attend. Now I would like to tell you that I stumbled across the 'real' party and craziness ensued, but I was promised 'doobies' at the reception and that was enough for me. I heart doobies.

Interlude for coffee with my friend Joe.

I arrived at the reception at the pre-arranged time. But to my dismay, the key to the hall was not with anyone there, and on top of that it seemed that many must have gotten lost on the way there. This is fair enough as Glenora is barely a suburb of a suburb of a village, but I was hungry.
Let us skip to dinner as I don't have all night to write this. My memory is a little hazy as it has been a few weeks (2 I think), but cheese is definately the most predominant memory of the whole night. From creamy cheese to stinky cheese, even cheese crurds! They had it all. Seeing this massive table of massive self-serve goodness made me want that doobie, but 'shadyman' was nowhere to be found. I ate as those around me indulged in drink. I knew the night would turn into a gong show soon, as there was enough liquor going around to give an elephant serosis (maybe even a hippo, and I hear they can hold their liquor). As dinner conversation began to run dry, I noticed a grouping of tuxedo-wearing drunkards on the patio, and thought i'd indulge in their madness. And madness it was, all of them had stories abouty how they had lost over a hundred pounds of fatty-belly weight since quitting their call-centre jobs. When I got out there they were picking on one of the smaller guys, laughing about their trp to the philippeanes. While they wouldn't actually tell me what happened, I'm pretty sure he took home a would-be 'female' prostitute. And what they did together, I'll leave up to You, dear reader. One of the bunch (clearly a Brit) thought it nessisary to brag about his new job as a stock-boy at superstore. Obviously this is a nobel and exclusive position that I envy greatly.....but I was a little confused as he told me that all he does all day is carry large bags of flour. I haven't been in superstore in a while, but last time I was there they only had 1 aisle that contained flour, so I'm pretty sure our british friend will be seeking new employment soon if it takes him all fucking day to stock one aisle.
This was obviously my time to continue with my search for 'doobieman' and his party supplies. And i found him, recoiling from the masses in front of the hall. I can't say I blame him, I was doing the same. A few others showed up at the same time, for the same reason. I enjoyed the drug, but was a little curious as to why 'doobieman' immediately swallowed the roach, and stared at me with a goofy grin. I tihnk he thought he was teaching me something profound. Like a wise guru passing down wisdom. But wisdom it wasn't, and flee I did. More than a little paranoid around all these strangers I snuck out the front door without saying goodbye. And that was that.

Congratulations Lisa and Jesse, though your wedding was frighting, I wish you all the best.


Now as long as I am reviewing things, it's sandwitch time! Now my loyal readers know well that I love a good sandwich. So much so that I have very strict rules as to what can be called a 'sandwich' and what cannot. A few nights ago, my friend and fellow sandwich connisseur made me a group of us grilled cheese sandwiches with the claim that they would be 'the best' sandwiches on the planet. It was made with real cheddar, and a savory garlic butter that added a touch of class to an otherwise common meal.

on a scale of 'poor' to 'unbelievable' I hereby give the sandwich a 'pretty gosh-darn great'. To raise future ratings I suggest either bacon or ham between two layers of chesse.

If anyone needs a good sandwich made for them, think of me, the good doctor. I am, afterall, a professional.


Dr. Gagnon  ¶ 4:25 PM