Really? I mean really??

Greetings & salutations!

So, this weekend held a pretty full social calendar & lots of errands/to-do tasks. (It was to the point it all blurred together & I had to ask Artis last night what day it was. He, of course, thought I'd lost my mind--and I had. I literally could not remember what day it was & if I needed to get up early this morning. Sadly, I did. I hate getting up early.) In the mix of birthday parties, weddings and trips to the mall & every store known to man (aside from Wal-Mart, of course, as I'm now on my way to hitting my two-year anniversary of boycotting the place), we had a wedding dinner to attend for my former roommate, Erik, and his lovely now-wife, Kate. It was an absolutely beautiful ceremony at Duke Chapel, with the sun coming through all of the huge stained-glass windows so perfectly. The ceremony itself was truly personalized to them & their mixed beliefs & it was done really well. Artis' favorite part was the reading from "The Velveteen Rabbit". My favorite part not related to the ceremony was the organist playing "Canon in D" & "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". It was amazing to hear it coming from all of the huge pipes all over the place. Anyway, it was followed by a dinner back in Raleigh, at which we were assigned to lucky table #13.

The food was fantastic & plentiful (just how it should be), the decorations were beautiful (they did black & white as their colors; white hydrangeas on black tablecloths looked particularly cool), and overall the company was great...except for the guy immediately to my left. I was not a fan of him. I don't even recall his name, but that's not relevant because I can certainly recall his actions.

It all started with him thinking that every word out of his mouth needed to be heard--and there were plenty--by the whole room and that every one of those same words was beyond hilarious. His one cue should have been when his girlfriend (bless her heart for dating him & being seen in public with him) turned to him and said, "Honey, no one cares." But, gentle reader, that was not enough for him. He missed the cue and kept on going. While I could regale you with stories of his horribleness, there are two funnies upon which I choose to focus:

1) The water glass. Artis & I were there before Slob (that's what we shall call him) and his girlfriend, Pitied, so I'd had a chance to drink from my water glass. Keep in mind that I'm addicted to Burt's Bees lip balm, so most glasses I drink from end up with a lip print. The glass on Saturday night was no different. Not only did it have my lip print on the edge, but it was half-empty too. Did this stop friend Slob from mistakenly confiscating my glass? No. Did it stop friend Slob from drinking from it? No. Did I attempt to stop friend Slob from doing so? No. OK, so I didn't stop him because I didn't see him with my glass until after the fact. I went to reach for my glass & realized it wasn't where I left it. That's when I put it all together. So, I told Artis to use the now-spare glass of water to the right of what should be his glass & I'd use his so that we were back on track. He said he didn't know if the glass next to him had been used (it hadn't--it was filled to the brim & lip print free), so to stake claim over his glass, he drank a little from it. For some silly reason he thought that would stop me. It didn't. I said, "Oh, thanks for testing it for me." And with that, I took his glass for myself, drank from it, & he had to get the new one. (Don't feel too bad for him--there was an open bar & he'd taken advantage of it, so the water glass wasn't the only beverage in front of him.)

B) The butter incident. I find butter to be one of those tricky things when eating in public. When too solid, one tears the bread while trying to spread it (trick: if it's an individual pat in a foil wrap, put it between your hands for a little bit; your body heat will warm it up enough to where it's spreadable & the foil will keep it from getting on your hands. I find I have to do this most frequently at The Cheesecake Factory, where they pretty much serve frozen butter every time.) or the butter breaks apart and little bits go all over the table (or on your clothes). When melted completely, it's all-too-easy to flick it while dipping & thus get oil spots on your shirt and the tablecloth. So, I thoroughly enjoy a nice whipped butter that is easily spreadable and not too soft. That was what was served at the dinner. It was perfect.

I passed the bread basket to Slob & he grabbed his roll and got a knife full of butter. He spread the butter on the roll, but then still had some left on the knife. At this point, a normal person would put the knife on the edge of their plate, use the butter on something else on the plate (like the roasted vegetables, for instance), or even scrape the remaining butter onto the edge of the plate if need be. Not Slob. No, no. Slob did one better--he took that knife & showed the tablecloth who's boss. Yep--he smeared his knife back and forth on the black tablecloth, leaving streaks of butter roughly 8-10" long to the right of his plate. I kid you not. It was one of those moments when you question your own sanity & if you really did just see what you thought you saw. I elbowed Artis; he looked over & his jaw dropped. That's when I knew I wasn't seeing things.

Combined with the girl across the table from me who says she isn't used to going to "those types of fancy functions" and didn't know which fork to use (there were two forks...the salad fork and the dinner fork. Not too difficult.), but said that it was because she was too busy in her line of work, saving lives as a CNA. I'm sure she does a great job & all, but really? Can't learn what a salad fork is compared to a dinner fork because you're a CNA?? Wow.

Anyway, it was a rather interesting dining experience, but we did have a great time overall & really enjoyed visiting with the two girls next to us and the guy seated between Pitied and CNA. They were all quite nice people...and they weren't using the tablecloth as their personal plate.