torture by royal wedding

So.

I thought I would jump on the royal wedding bandwagon … but with a twist.

The twist is the torture aspect.

Water boarding.

Bamboo shoots under the fingernails.

Chinese water torture.

Disco music.

The royal wedding.

All forms of torture that should be outlawed.

Look. All I want to talk about right now is:

–        “why would anyone take Cam Newton #1 ?”

–        “how can they have an NFL draft when they cannot trade any players during the draft?”

–        “can the Hawks win the series tonight (because if they don’t and go back to Orlando I am fairly sure they are gonna go home for the summer)?

–        “can Albert Pujols hit anything but a home run?

I pretty much want to talk about one of the greatest times in sports … the NFL draft is happening at the same time that the NBA first round is ending and the ice hockey playoffs are getting good and the European Cup soccer finals are here (and the semi finals are still being talked about) and major league baseball is getting into full swing and … well … all I am hearing is Royal Wedding watching parties and Kate’s dress and all this other royal wedding crap.

So.

This is going to be an honest talk to the ladies.

And I’m going to be honest because there’s something about this whole royal wedding thing that every man wants to say (so I will say it).

No guy gives a shit about the Royal Wedding.

Oh, he might say he does. He might be sitting on the couch with you right now watching it.

And he will absolutely deny anything and everything I am saying (or I am about to say) until he is blue in the face.

But. Bottom line.

He.

Doesn’t.

Care.

(period)

And I’ll tell you why. Because men don’t actually give a shit about any wedding (even their own I am sad to say).

Well. Not if they are honest.

Anyway. Ask your man and I will bet he will lie (assuming he is smart). He may say something about “gosh, it is beautiful” or if he isn’t that good a liar he will focus on the beauty of Westminster Abbey (a guy cannot really go wrong by suggesting a piece of architecture is beautiful) but in general if he says anything positive about watching the royal wedding … he is lying.

Ok.

Before I get to the actual Royal Wedding let me comment on weddings in general.

In general weddings have some wacky torturous traditions that have no relevance other than the fact they make someone feel uncomfortable or serve to remind us other than an open bar the wedding is torture to every man alive.

Here are the top most painful traditions (which the Royal Wedding reminds us are a royal pain in the ass):

diamond rings: Diamonds may be “forever” but they really only to forever be a pain in every guy’s ass (and wallet). De Beers created the engagement ring rush in the early twentieth century as a way to boost sales. Someone should bomb their frickin’ corporate headquarters. They should go down in the evil history hall of fame next to Hitler & Stalin. Every guy knows that they will be judged by their wife’s friends not by how they treat their wife or how nice a guy they are but by that frickin’ ring.

huge wedding: Huge parties? Awesome.  Huge weddings? OMG.  A guy’s nightmare. The only good part of a huge wedding is you get to have a best friend or two stand with you and feel your pain. You cannot even ogle the army of bridesmaids standing on the other side. Even the enormous open bar (and bar bill attached to it) doesn’t do you any good because to get to it you have to pass through a mass of unwanted guests all who feel obligated to say something to you (when all you want is the stiffest cocktail the bartender can give you). Huge weddings is simply mass torture. Give me solitary confinement versus a huge wedding.

the first dance (or dancing in general).

C’mon.  There isn’t a real man out there who likes to dance. And dance in a fully lit non-smoky bar without a juke box? Forget it.  It ain’t happening unless forced by “tradition.” Let’s couple the dislike of dancing with being the first one on the dance floor and having to dance the first frickin’ dance.  Yikes.  That honor is typically bestowed upon two girls who just cannot wait to shake their booty (and won’t ever be asked to dance by a guy anyway) or some guy who can lip sync Gloria Gaynor “I will survive.” The first dance is torture.  Fucking torture. Give me the bamboo shoots under my fingernails instead.

the garter thing: after some research I discovered that this tradition supposedly originated in a belief that it was lucky to grab a swatch of the bride’s clothes. Somehow it has shifted into the groom removing this garter thing (some unknown piece of lingerie) and throwing it at all the single men of which is supposed to bestow nuptial luck (as if that is luck) on the catcher of the garter. Ok. This is just one extremely uncomfortable tradition. What single man in his right mind wants to stand around with other men and act like it’s a loose ball in a Celtics-Lakers game and dive without thought as if the win hinges upon actually catching the stupid garter? (none is the answer if you didn’t know). Now.  If it were panties?  And the bride were lifting up her dress and having her panties pulled down? Yowza. Bring on this tradition.

the whole smashing cake in each other’s face thing:

ok.  Let me recap this Animal House food fight type tradition.

It’s your wedding day.

She is all in white in a dress that costs a shitload of money (and will never wear again).

You are in probably the best tux you will ever wear.

She is wearing make up that she started putting on some time two days before so it looks perfect.

She has been fixing her hair for over a month to make sure it looked right.

You are being watched by everyone you know.

Perfect time for a food fight. Right?

Well.  I am kind of unclear how any guy is gonna win in this scenario (unless he is trying to remind his wife she needs to lose some weight so “please let me shove this in your face and not in your mouth to remind you to cut back on calories”). Gosh.  Even then I cannot see how a guy wins.

Go ahead. Mess up my hair.  Or. Go ahead. Mess up my make up.

It is a quaint tradition that unless you are the next reincarnation of John Belushi I cannot fathom being a positive way to begin a longstanding relationship.

Lastly? From a guy’s perspective?

What a waste of good food.

Anyway.

Back to the Royal Wedding.

Imagine being stuck in front of the television watching the procession (more like an endless train of graffiti covered boxcars as you sit at the crossing with the red lights blinking endlessly), the dress (more hats than the Kentucky Derby but even more horses … although they don’t run as fast), the ceremony (some people call it ‘the pomp’ I just call it poop), the vows (even they have to do it although they don’t have the ability to “write my own vows”) and wondering who the hell is sitting next to the torturer from Bahrain or the grand poohbah of the Duchy of Delphonics.

Imagine.

Torture.

Fucking torture.

I had to chuckle.

ICM Research conducted a poll in the UK and one of the statements was: ‘I am genuinely interested and excited by the royal wedding.”

–        46 per cent disagreed

–        37 per cent agreed

–        17 per cent were ambivalent

My conclusion? UK is a country of liars.

Sure. There will be one guy everyone knows who will be into it.

One who calls figure skating a sport. One who enjoys listening to Enya and probably knows every scene of March of the Penguins by heart.

But it’s not a huge demographic and certainly not enough to make those numbers look the way they look.

The fact is we men don’t give a shit about the Royal Wedding not because we are incapable of expressing love (or some kind of sappy emotion) but because it incorporates all the things we don’t give a shit about … big hats, big churches, big hair, big british teeth, big dresses, big parades (without big blowup animals which would have helped) and big carriages (and there are no big explosions or big fights).

Its just a big boring pain in the ass.

Anyway.

It’s your day so enjoy it.

But. Please (please).

Don’t torture us with it.