Schmoop Says: It's Wedding Season, So Be a Friend, and Hunt Down Anyone Thinking of Getting Married!!

Unless you (like many people in Bagwine) have been shit-faced since Memorial Day Weekend, you know that we are three days into the month of June. 

And besides schools letting out, D-Day (that’s another post), and Flag Day, what else does June bring with it?

That’s right, you pretty people. The 2011 Wedding Season!! Oh…Dear…God!!

Who in their right mind would want to get married? I think marriage is stupid with a capital “M”. What? Anyhoo. Here’s why…

Point #1: You have to pay for it. Weddings are ungodly costly both monetarily, and costly emotionally due to spending time with friends and family you don’t really like to begin with.

Point #2: If you love one another, why is a piece of paper important? That temptation of a binding legal agreement is like telling someone you love: “Go ahead, I dare you!!” 

Why would anyone scare and dare someone they love into submission?

Point #3: Joint Banking Accounts. Oh I don’t fucking think so…

Point #4: Even without the joint banking accounts, one or both will be paying for it the rest of their lives. I watch Mahone pay reparations every week. Half in money, Half in guilt. (Hey!! That was pretty good, Hee!!)

Y’know…

Far too often, married people seem to become one entity. Suddenly, one can’t do anything without the other. Things that were brushed aside and didn’t matter, suddenly seem to matter to the nth degree.

When single, or even living together, many couples seem to still be able to be individuals, with their own identities intact. 

Once that paper gets signed, filed, and laid upon the court records, minds get skewed and people get screwed.

And now, on a shinier note…

Jayman and Matt-Man will be doing another installment of I’m With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio Saturday at 6:30 PM EDT. And guess what they will be discussing, boys and girls? Uh-Huh…

Weddings and Marriage!!

I guess they are going to compare and contrast the benefits of being single, marrying, or merely shacking up.

I’m sure they will make fun of marriage in their own...

(Damn, my ass still looks fine--->)

juvenile, yet endearing way.

I hear that Jayman has secured a new marriage-related sponsor for the show, and Matt-Man will be talking about all the omens and portents that he missed, or more likely ignored, before being betrothed some 24 years ago.

All of that and your phone calls at 661.244.9852 on I’m With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio, this Saturday night at 6:30 PM EDT.

You can access the I’m With Stupid Radio page by clicking HERE.

Have an I DO free weekend, pretty people.

Zoooooooves!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: With This Ring, I Thee Get Tied Up

A cold and gray Sabbath in Bagwine, Ohio but there is a warm ray of sunshine emanating within and throughout the family of my BFF/OSP, Schmoop.

There’s a gonna be a weddin’!!

That’s right folks, Schmoop’s 36 year old twice married niece is about to become her 36 year old THRICE married niece.

I’m not a numbers guy but I think that’s a marriage every twelve years.

If she keeps this pace up, by the time she’s 72, she’ll be working on marriage number six!! Not quite Liz Taylor nuptial notoriety, but impressive nonetheless.

This marriage is going to be both super and supernatural, ’cause dig it…

The guy Schmoop’s niece betrothing herself to or whatever is a minister. Hell, he could perform the ceremony himself.

But wait a minute sports fans, it gets better.

Not only is this guy a minister, would you like to know what his name is?

RICK JAMES!! And he’s white!! I’ve always thought of myself as the white Rick James, but this guy really is!!

That’s right kids…Pastor Rick James is getting hitched to Schmoop’s niece, who will soon be better and legally known as Mrs. Super Freak.

Holy Cow, can you imagine the ceremony…

When the officiating minister comes to the part where he asks if anyone has any objections, people will be afraid to say yes.

When the minister asks Pastor Rick, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Pastor Rick is going to reply:

“Hell Yeah I do; I’m Rick James, Bitch!!”

As for Schmoop’s niece, when she says she will “love, honor, obey” she better realize that with Rick James, those words take on a completely atypical and painful meaning.
And oh how I’d like to be a fly on the wall of their honeymoon suite…

I can see her lying bed as a coked up Rick James stands over her. Bible in one hand and a bull whip in the other, screaming:

“The power of Christ compels you to bark like a dog and suck my dick, Bitch!!”

Oh hell yeah…I bet Charlie Sheen gots nothing on the one and only Pastor Rick James.

Amen, and Amen…

I’m going to be here, there and everywhere today so enjoy your Sunday folks, and as always…

Cheers Bitches!!

Bagwine Ruminations Presents: Schmoop!!

Helllloooo!! I’m Schmoop and I welcome you all to the first installment of:

Dispatches From My Ass*…

So first out of the box, what’s with wedding and funerals? Sorry, Seinfeld reference. I’m watching it now, and there were so many good points.

I am a firm believer that everything in our lives can somehow be traced back to one of the many Seinfeld episodes.

Ponies for instance. Who has a pony? If you do, or you did, do you still? And why?

I mean the poop alone would put me off. Not to mention the big ass, glassy looking eyes. I have enough problems with our cat, Corky, zoning off.

Now, weddings…Good Lord!!

Why pay all that money for gowns, dinner, gifts, bridesmaids, etc. For what?

So you can live with this person, whom I guarantee you will fucking hate in eight months?

Do as I do. Shack the fuck up for almost nine years, and have a blast!

Save money, still in love, and the sex never gets old. Novel idea, no?

Funerals? Same thing. Do you even know you’re dead? I don’t think so.

Even if you do, would you like a whole bunch, or in my case not a whole bunch of people, crying and looking at your redesigned dead body in a box?

I know my Dad did not appreciate the showing at his funeral.

His pre-corpse words were, and I quote...

“Hey Girlie, burn me, stick me in a beer can, and put me on the ice box.”

Unfortunately, Mommmmm didn’t want to do that. She is such a killjoy.

When I die, just throw me atop a bonfire. Hell, my liver should keep the pyrotechnics glowing for days.

If Matt wants to utter a brief eulogolical (is that a word?) remark such as, “She was the best pussy I ever had.” That’s cool too.

However, he’ll probably reserve that post-mortem accolade for when our zoned-out cat, Corky, kicks the bucket. Bastard.

Where was I? Oh yea, inside my own fucked up head. Sorry about the language. It’s French, right? Right? OMG the voices!!

I have no point really. Just that I hate weddings, funerals…..and obviously….ponies.

Thank you and come again…

Zoves,

Schmoop

*I really liked all of the title ideas you guys came up with for my entries, however…Matt-Man liked his, Dispatches from my Ass idea best (naturally).

As not to harm his massive, yet fragile ego, I went with that. God, it’s so hard living with him.