So, I was invited to a wedding the other day. Pretty sweet. I was told I could bring a plus 1 [the exact words were “girlfriend, friend, cousin,”…okay, maybe not the exact words; but who can remember so many words all in a row?], so the search begins.
I think I’ll ask a celebrity to accompany me. But there are a few stipulations
- Can’t be too good-looking (and upstage the bride)
- Can’t be too famous (and therefore busy/in-demand…in school might be okay; I mean, we’re all looking for excuses to skip school, right?); but at least slightly recognizable
- Should be funny and/or witty (I mean, we might talk…if I can get past the awe)
- Should be nice (and therefore more willing to accept the invite)
Okay, so I think we’re agreed. I should ask James Franco. Wait…I thought I was going to ask a lady. Wait…it’s okay, James Franco is gay, right?
Well, if Mr. Franco’s busy, I could always solicit unsuspecting people at work…or maybe suspecting people…?
Though, I don’t know if the cute mom will be willing to say yes, even if her husband agrees to babysit for the night. Of course, I’m not 100% certain, after all, when she asked if we had any train,tables in stock, I just said, “Hibbleton.” Then, I hung my head and walked away. I’m sure she stared at me through her hipster glasses with a confused expression; but I was too embarrassed to turn and look.
I mean, my outstanding moral fiber would’ve prevented me from asking her out anyway (but my shyness around super-attractive women won that battle…again [
which is why I can’t have any lengthy conversations with my aunts or cousins, neighbors or coworkers, pretty much any girl… or maybe I’m just uninteresting, even to me (the one loyal reader probably thinks so, too)]).