I may be turning into an agoraphobic, or maybe I just appreciate the couch more than fresh air, but here are invitations I could do without for the rest of time.
I’m 33 years old. That means I’ve spent the last eight years wasting my summers and money on other people’s love (minus one time, my wedding, which was the greatest of all time).
If you’re getting married past my age it could mean one of many things. But most likely it’s that you suck, you’re unlucky, or your partner is an absolute jerk who hasn’t propose already. And I don’t really like people who suck, I try to avoid people who are unlucky, and why would I support the marriage if your partner is a jerk?
The main reason I can’t stand weddings anymore is because it takes away a good six hours of housework that I need to get done. Most of these weddings are on Saturdays, the day I like to mow, fix things, and watch my wife break things that I need to fix the following week.
For no religious purposes at all, Sunday is my personal day of rest. So when you have these weddings on a Saturday, you force my house and yard chores onto me on Sunday for that week. So basically, FUCK YOU!
I am officially announcing my retirement from weddings when I turn 35 years old. So you unmarried guys have less than two years to get your act together. Any wedding invitation that hits my mailbox after October, 2018, will get burnt in the fireplace.
Here’s how the conversation normally goes when I’m offered free tickets to a game:
Buddy: Hey I have tickets to the game this weekend. Wanna go?
Me: No Thanks.
Buddy: But they’re free.
Me: Yeah, but no.
You’d think that going to a game–driving through two hours of road traffic, followed by 20 minutes of foot traffic, followed by 10 minutes of arguing with a person that doesn’t think they’re in your seat, followed by five minutes of waiting for the usher to get it resolved, followed by 2 minutes of apologizing to the guy who actually WASN’T in your seat, followed by five minutes of getting to your actual seat, followed by paying $12 for a watered-down 10-ounce beer, followed by a commercial-interrupted 60-minute game that takes four hours to complete, followed by going back through traffic again, followed by getting home all pissed that you left the house in the first place–would be fun, but it isn’t.
Going to an actual game is the biggest waste of time, money and life imaginable. I ALWAYS prefer to watch from home. The beer is cheaper. The seats are more comfortable. The wife, if in a good mood, cooks up some nachos. If the game gets boring I can stare at the wife for a few minutes, then look back at the TV.
You’d be hard pressed to find me at a bar on the weekend, let alone multiple bars in one night. I don’t do bars because I already reeled in a woman. And to me, the bar is only good for two things: Meeting women, and pretending to have fun with your guy friends while meeting women.
Why not instead of visiting five shitty bars in one night, you find ONE good bar with a few good beer selections, and I just might come.
An invitation to your baby’s birthday is an insult to me. You’re asking that I leave my house, buy a gift, and waste four hours for a little person that shits its pants and doesn’t even know what year it is?
And then you have 20 other babies and toddlers, running around and screaming, pissing, pooping, and crying that they didn’t get any presents.
I just want to yell at them “IT’S NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY YOU SELFISH LITTLE PRICKS!” But they don’t even know what a damn birthday is to begin with, which is why you shouldn’t host a birthday party for any baby or toddler until they pass a test that confirms they know three things:
1) When their birthday is.
2) That they’re not allowed to crap their pants.
3) That they act professionally and don’t bitch when another kid is getting presents.
If you want to hang out for dinner one night, and your baby happens to be there, great. I prefer that. But no more birthdays for pants shitters.
You’re not even married yet! Way to jinx it with an early celebration!
Part of me wants to go to these parties just to jinx it. The other part of me doesn’t want to take the risk of going to TWO parties for one couple (engagement + wedding).
It’s just beer. It’s not that interesting. So just buy a damn 12-pack at a liquor store and let’s watch some sports at my place, instead of listening to some overweight, bearded airhead from Maine talk about the history of their overrated beer.
My mother is the only exception I will make to this rule. She lives 40 minutes away. But if you’re outside of 30 minutes, then you better have a really, REALLY good reason for me to come all the way to your place because quite honestly, I really, REALLY don’t want to.
It’s your birthday? Sorry. Don’t care. You’re not a child anymore.
You need help moving? Call the movers.
You’re watching the game at your place? That’s nice, I’m watching at mine.
You’re having a barbeque? I already ate.
The weekend is mine. And I’m tired of everyone ruining it for me with their selfish invitations. Once in a while maybe you could invite ME to celebrate ME! Otherwise, leave me alone. Don’t text me. And Happy Holidays!