I Hate Brandon Singer Part III

Click here for I Hate Brandon Singer Part I

Click here for I Hate Brandon Singer Part II


Quick Recap:  Brandon Singer agreed to be my date for a wedding, but Brandon Singer did not uphold his end of the bargain.  Instead, he went out the night before the wedding, got shitfaced, potentially smashed his nose and informed me of this via text less than an hour and a half before the wedding.  Sounds like a dickhead move, right?  It was.


With 75 minutes until the wedding commencement, I had to find a replacement.      I really wished Mr. Lambo was there with me, but we had just “broken up” 5 days prior.  A call to my friend Sheldon left me with some hope.  However, he had to navigate through rigorous obstacles involved in his mental preparation process.  After keeping me in suspense for several minutes (which for the impatient seems like a dozen millenia), he agreed, but his order of operations included first going to Boston Market, then going back home and shaving and then departing for the wedding.  He was going to be late, but wedding date beggars can’t be choosers.  So, without too much trouble, Brandon Singer was substituted.  Thanks for the trash, Brandon Singer.


* * *

I arrived at the wedding and seated myself in the last row of seats in the aisle seat.  I saved a spot for Shellie.  Although I couldn’t see myself, I imagine my irritability was noticeable.  My foot (dressed in awesome iridescent, snake print, peep toe heel) was moving back and forth in an effort to release the agitation caused by Brandon Singer’s last minute cancellation.   I texted Sheldon to inform him of the seat coordinates.  To my dismay, but not shockingly, my device was on the verge of death.  The battery life my Droid is Napoleon short.


I placed my device in my lap and focused my attention on Pink Magic II (my digital camera).  Soon, the ceremony began.  First, the grinning groom entered, followed by the groomsmen and bridesmaids/matron.  Then entered the beautiful bride.  My favorite part about weddings is the look of pure bliss on the bride’s face.  Her smile was heart-warming, even for those of us whose hearts are locked up in iceboxes.  I captured her entry on video because Pink Magic II sucks at still shots in certain lighting.  Pink Magic II is a disappointment compared to its predecessor, Pink Magic I.  I only buy Canon digital cameras because I’ve found that the color quality in pictures taken with Canons is better than those taken with other point and shot digicams.  But, Pink Magic II does weird things, like make people look disproportionate; I call that the “fun house mirror effect.”  Additionally, it doesn’t focus well all of the time; I call that the “ADHD effect.”  I’m currently researching and preparing for the purchase of Pink Magic III.


Anyway, the bride met the sniffling groom at the altar.  (He was ill-taken.)  The nuptials were brief.  Take note, this is ideal.  Unless the officiant is exceptionally comedic, most folks don’t want to sit through a long, drawn-out ceremony.  As it was coming to an end, I happened to look back toward the door to see Sheldon’s bald head approaching.  In the six years that I have known him, I have never seen him without a hat.  I learned why on that day; his head is shaped kind of like the egg in Garfield, whose name is also Sheldon! Coincidence?


With the last remaining life in my device, I texted him to wait outside as there were only a few minutes left of the ceremony.   But, he came in and sat in the seat I had saved for him.  Moments later, the groom stepped on the glass and, Mazel Tov, it was official!


Onto cocktail hour: I was famished as I had not yet eaten at all that day.  Sheldon, on the other hand, didn’t have much of an appetite because he had feasted on Boston Market about an hour earlier.  Big mistake on his part.  The food was incredible, mouth-watering, savory, and fanfuckingtastic.  We sat at a small table.  He said, “Who do you know here?” I replied, “No one except for the bride and groom.”  He responded, “So, you would have really been screwed if I didn’t come.”  I nodded.  A couple then joined us at the table.


I got up to find an outlet because I had to revive my device.  (Of course the charger was one of the few items in my small clutch.)  I found an electrical source near the bar.  It was at that moment that I spotted a tall, thin male wearing what appeared to be black skinny jeans with a blazer.  I thought to myself, “What the fuck? Couldn’t he put aside his hipster ways for just one day?”




Your “likes” and comments are REQUIRED.  Failure to do so will result in years of disenchantment and may cause an increase in heart rate, palpitations, sweating, nausea, vomiting, difficulty breathing, pallor, dizziness, weakness, shakiness, headache, apprehension, nervousness, anxiety and, in rare cases, death.  Thanks.



Click here for I Hate Brandon Singer Part I

Click here for I Hate Brandon Singer Part II


comments: 2 »

2 Responses to “I Hate Brandon Singer Part III”

  1. Gee Street says:

    I clean up nice. FYI.

  2. Gee Street says:

    You know….sort of a “break glass in case of emergency” situation. Just saying.