I sang at a wedding the other day. They even paid me. I know, I know; it’s great that I’m finally becoming a celebrity and all, but I’m worried I wasn’t good enough. I might have made a mistake and inadvertently ruined their marriage before it even started.
Some day, the two of them will get into a huge fight over diaper-changing and remember the awful vocalist who started it all…
The bride will say something like, “I know I told you it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings, but remember the chubby homo at our wedding? He’s close enough.”
And then he’ll retort, “Yeah, well, I must have been high when I married you; higher than the note he failed to hit.”
And then she’ll say that their marriage was a bigger disaster than my hair. It’ll never stop. The diaper will never get changed. The angry baby will grow up and kill me.
Maybe I’m over-thinking it. I tend to do that. In fact, while performing at the wedding, I started over-thinking a lot of things. This led to some fun questions. For example, how come when a man proposes to a woman, he asks for her hand in marriage?
Why’s it gotta be the hand? Hands are gross. According to every Dove soap commercial, hands are constantly dirty and covered with germs. Who wants to associate their love with filth and hangnails?
There are certainly more interesting body parts. And if you plan to go on a honeymoon, there are indeed more essential ones.
You could ask for her shoulder in marriage. Or since it’s ’til death do you part, you could ask for a spare organ.
How about her back, her wrist, her elbow, leg, ankle, nose, heel, toe, neck, thigh, or breast? “Sir, I’ve fallen deeply in love with your daughter, and I’m asking for her ass in marriage.”
Yuck. Suddenly the hand is making sense.
But I still don’t get why we have to isolate body parts at all. Call me creepy, but when I fall in love with someone, I fall in love with all of them.