I kind of want to get married just to have a rug pull of a wedding.
I’d have vows like,
'In you, your name here, I found another living human with better medical coverage than me so I no longer have to break into clinics for my largely recreational prescriptions.
'In you, your name here, I found someone that usually doesn’t cry and call the police when I make sexual advances and understands my mostly harmless but mind bendingly bizarre amorous proclivities.
'In you, your name here, I found someone with habits just as disgusting, if not moreso than mine, so we can keep each other in check while maintaining questionable living conditions and achieving new levels of swamp goblinism that wouldn’t be sustainable alone.
And, most importantly, your name here, I get to split the rent with my best friend, and you can’t just kick me out when the gleam is off the cube.’
Then we’d share long pulls from a vintage 40 oz bottle of malt liquor and sloppily make out for a few minutes before throwing the empty bottle into the crowd.
Once we’d loaded all the wedding gifts and departed the scene in a U haul van with ‘Limo’ spray painted on the side, the wedding party would be shuttled to the outskirts of Branson Missouri with a quirky scavenger hunt styled map that would ultimately lead to an Old Country Buffet that’s been vacant since 2012.
My dad died last November and when I called the funeral home we’d picked out to come pick up his body, the answering service was fucking AI. It had a weird non-specific accent with strange background noises going on, and when it repeated my father’s name back for confirmation, it said “Robert common name R-O-B-E-R-T, Smith common name S-M-I-T-H.” I was like “WTF? Common name?” I’m still made at myself for not telling them to go fuck themselves and using a different funeral home. For bonus points, the funeral home owner (with the same last name as one of the characters in The Sopranos) kept cracking jokes when we met with him, and then he ghosted me for two weeks and finally delivered the urn with the ashes in it at 8 pm the night before the interment ceremony, leaving them on my porch and splitting before I could talk to him.
But the fucking AI thing was the worst. I keep replaying the “condolences” it offered in my head.
I mean, it’s bad coming from actual human beings involved in the funeral home business because you know that they absolutely do not really give a fuck in the slightest (not something I really hold against them because they have to be like that for their own sanity). But coming from AI is just next level awful.
I kind of want to get married just to have a rug pull of a wedding.
I’d have vows like,
'In you, your name here, I found another living human with better medical coverage than me so I no longer have to break into clinics for my largely recreational prescriptions.
'In you, your name here, I found someone that usually doesn’t cry and call the police when I make sexual advances and understands my mostly harmless but mind bendingly bizarre amorous proclivities.
'In you, your name here, I found someone with habits just as disgusting, if not moreso than mine, so we can keep each other in check while maintaining questionable living conditions and achieving new levels of swamp goblinism that wouldn’t be sustainable alone.
And, most importantly, your name here, I get to split the rent with my best friend, and you can’t just kick me out when the gleam is off the cube.’
Then we’d share long pulls from a vintage 40 oz bottle of malt liquor and sloppily make out for a few minutes before throwing the empty bottle into the crowd.
Once we’d loaded all the wedding gifts and departed the scene in a U haul van with ‘Limo’ spray painted on the side, the wedding party would be shuttled to the outskirts of Branson Missouri with a quirky scavenger hunt styled map that would ultimately lead to an Old Country Buffet that’s been vacant since 2012.
Who says romance is dead.
My dad died last November and when I called the funeral home we’d picked out to come pick up his body, the answering service was fucking AI. It had a weird non-specific accent with strange background noises going on, and when it repeated my father’s name back for confirmation, it said “Robert common name R-O-B-E-R-T, Smith common name S-M-I-T-H.” I was like “WTF? Common name?” I’m still made at myself for not telling them to go fuck themselves and using a different funeral home. For bonus points, the funeral home owner (with the same last name as one of the characters in The Sopranos) kept cracking jokes when we met with him, and then he ghosted me for two weeks and finally delivered the urn with the ashes in it at 8 pm the night before the interment ceremony, leaving them on my porch and splitting before I could talk to him.
But the fucking AI thing was the worst. I keep replaying the “condolences” it offered in my head.
Man, “condolenses” from fucking AI sounds the worst jeeessh
I mean, it’s bad coming from actual human beings involved in the funeral home business because you know that they absolutely do not really give a fuck in the slightest (not something I really hold against them because they have to be like that for their own sanity). But coming from AI is just next level awful.
My wife and I technically got married because of insurance.
We were already engaged for a year at that point, insurance just picked the date.