Yesterday, I called my fiancé "Gary". (His name is Jerry.)
It wasn't the first time. (More like the 40th.)
Jerry is a weird name. Like the name of some guy living in a trailer missing a front tooth. Sometimes I can't even manage "Gary". When referring to him in conversation, to my sister, my mind becomes confused. I can't remember his name, like a reverse form of Tourette's Syndrome.
I open my mouth over and over without making a sound like a fish plucked from the ocean trying to breath. (Please visualize.)
Eventually, I exhale and say, "what's his name" or "that guy I'm going to marry."
My nephews scream, "Oh my GodDUH, you don't even know the name of the man your going to marry?" The youngest nephew throws me a verbal life raft; "You mean Jerry" he says.
"Yes Brody. That's exactly who I mean. You're a very good boy." I say. "Please have some candy."
My mother called my father, "Pete." I was 16 when I learned his name was really Richard. Who creates "Pete" as a diminutive of Richard?
I Canyoneered in Utah. I was the fool that attached the backpack straps across my boobs..assuming they were seat belts.
Seatbelts don't work here. Yes, that's me.
I met new friends. I couldn't wait to tell them about the weird Mormons I'd met earlier, like the strawberry blond zombie waitress engaged to the restaurant owner (she pointed him out). He was already wearing a wedding ring.
"Can you believe these Mormons?" I asked.
"We're Mormons," they replied.
Driving past our lodge 12 times, we were still unable to find it. We called the innkeeper. She said, "after the second bend in the road, there is a creek, the road swerves left and then right. You'll see grass. There is a tree...THAT'S where we are located." "Are you Irish?" I asked.
The view of from my bedroom.
My girlfriend, Linda talked to the animals. Until he spit in her face. Imagine Saint Bernard drool...times 50.
We experienced rock formations.
I embraced nature.
Cows were perched in a front yard. I rattled the gate to summon the darling creatures, and was electrocuted... by the fence. I'd like to notify the Psychiatric community: Electroshock does NOT make one less depressed...it makes you want to kill someone.
We became annoyed with Utah, the Mormons, rock formations and high voltage fences. So we drove to Telluride, CO. No mormons were in the Gondola we rode to the top of a mountain for dinner.
I got a new car. It roars, literally.
I drove to Newport Beach and rented a house with a dock and boat.
I took flying trapeze lessons.
I went four wheeling with my nephew. We raced.
I managed a political campaign. We raced.
But now I'm on a first name basis with the Mayor. "Hey Murphy", I say when we cross paths.
Co-workers created my identity on a dating website. After pretending to be me they let me in on the secret. I was very shy but went with it.
They lined up outside my office every morning to hear the gory details of each hilariously disastrous date. I started this for them.