Bonds

So you may or may not have wondered where we all went during the course of a whole summer. Although I wish we could all say we were spending the Negative Waves treasury on a company-sponsored trip to Fiji with little concern for putting out issues, the truth is that we weren't. In fact, most of us were literally sweating our balls off in the summer humidity - and I say that because the San Francisco Bay area has neither massive humidity or a heaping yob of gonads, so you know who has the sweaty 'nads around here.

But I digress. A beautiful life-event-type-thing happened to members of our staff not named myself or Michael (thusly making it easier for you to narrow down before you read the next sentence, and as you know, Sam's married to the celebrity redhead). Todd and Matt joined the married dudes' club, sending our normal publication schedule awry.

Not only did it send the publication schedule amok, but it sort of did a number on my head too. I sort of have been sitting around lately and have been starting to count the number of male friends I have that have become engaged or hitched.

Stop that, because my head is beginning to hurt. It's one thing when you're a female and your female friends are getting hitched. It's totally another thing when your male pals do. What a head trip.

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Let me tell you that it's not easy for the single girl to see your guy buds get married. And, it's not so much that you hear your biological clock ticking, or that the groom is someone you wanted to cavort with, but you rather turn it inward for a bit and say, "Hey, what's wrong with me· do I smell?"

Years ago, I thought I was going to move to Chicago. In fact, Chicago was my absolute first choice city for me to move. Obviously, that didn't happen and I ended up in the Bay area instead - two years ago this week, in fact. I still feel the itch to move to Chicago all the time, but it's just the timing's probably all off. And hell, isn't everything in life all about timing, anyway?

But that's of course besides the point. Given that fact, I was super-psyched to return to the City of Chicago, and even more psyched to go to Matt's wedding. The Italian American Sports Hall of Fame is where the reception is? DiMaggio· that's Italian, right? Dude. I am all over that.

Let me be absolutely sincere in saying that Matt's wedding was probably the way I envision myself getting married, with a couple of exceptions. As I sat there, I started to brainstorm and modify the ceremony and the reception in my head to my own liking - obviously with no regard for my future husband's opinion because, quite frankly, I don't know who the fuck he is.

Here is my list of demands:

1. Incorporation of The Throne Room theme from "Star Wars: A New Hope." It's the scene at the end when Han and Luke get medals from Leia. I think Mrs. Hoyer thought I was off my nut when she heard me declare this out loud after Mr. and Mrs. Matt's wedding. So out with Pachelbel's "Canon in D" and the whole droopy "Here Comes The Bride" bit - I think it would be really badass to have a blaring of trumpets put a little snap into everyone's step. So help me God, I will someday find a guy that will let me do this or at least have the same smoopiness towards scores done by John Williams. You watch.
2. There will be no Van Morrison, no Jimmy Buffett, no Eagles, Doors, or any of that shit.
3. All of the ex-boyfriends that actually got invited get to sit at one table and do the, "Oh, you're THAT guy" stories all night. Then they have to make out.
4. My husband, John Mayer - OK, he will be referred to as John Mayer regardless of what his name is. It'll be cool though, kinda like a codename. Slightly offensive, but it will be fun.
5. A week after Matt's wedding I went to my friend Scooter's wedding. I added to the list this: "Damn you, Scooter· you picked that Peter Cetera song from Karate Kid II. I guess that only leaves me the N*Sync ballad now."

Mikey played host to me while I was in Chicago, and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect host. After I dismantled the webcams he had stashed all over his apartment without him knowing, (so that there would be no evidence should I need to maim him for any reason,) we spent most of the time getting phenomenally drunk until 7AM in the morning, listening to Sinatra and then watching ESPN.

One time, we actually decided to venture out of the house and into the humidity for a Cubbies game. But the best save of the weekend by far was Mikey Fertig's arm-out hustle for me, saving me from taking a drunken dive into the DJ equipment during "Chicago Is My Kind Of Town," the last song played at the reception. (Of course, Mikey almost killed the both of us in downtown Chicago near Millenium Park two days later coming out of a parking garage.)

I wonder how things'll change for all of us now that these events have occurred. I know Matt just got a house. Will Todd's columns start to suck because he's not particularly surly anymore? Will Mike Chesta have to marry Mikey Fertig? Will I get my period?

Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret.

I realize at this point that guys probably don't get Judy Blume references to books about first menstruation, and for that I am sorry.

I was glad to have met the expanded cast of Negative Waves characters that I hadn't met before. Hello! That's what really made the whole experience very real for me. I had a very instantaneous familiarity with many of the people I met, and it really solidified that previous idea of wanting to be·

Married to the City of Chicago, quite frankly.

I think my answer is actually quite simple.

Editor's Note: To my knowledge, there was no Van Morrison, Jimmy Buffett, Eagles, or Doors playing during my wedding. If there was and I was too drunk to notice it, heads will roll.