So my old friend Paul got married this weekend. It was fun.

In hindsight, the ceremony and reception was almost exactly a stereotypical 'guy' wedding.

Small and quick ceremony. No tuxedos or big dresses. A quick reception with lots of food and drink, but no dancing. No receiving line, but only a few pictures. If there had been a big screen TV broadcasting a football game, it would have been perfect.

Not that I go for that sort of thing or anything.

I was the best man, but given the small scale of the wedding, my duties were slight. I handed over the ring, emceed the occasion, and took Paul to see peelers the night before.

Here's something annoying. For Paul's stag, we paid $85 for reserved seats (up to 50 people), a round of Sambuca shots for everyone, no cover charge, a t-shirt for Paul that he could get the dancers to sign, and a free spin on the prize wheel (with prizes ranging from 5, 10, and 25 dollars to a Polaroid picture with a dancer. Paul won a Polaroid with the shooter girl).

Lisa somehow ended up organizing the stag-ette for Olya, Paul's bride. She got the reserved seats, a bottle of champagne, no cover charge, freshly made crepes, and a bunch of other stuff. For FREE.

Plus they weren't required to stay at least 3 feet from the dancers.

Why is it that guys have to pay for the goodies, and not the women? You see it everywhere. 'Women get in free until 10', or 'Women drink free on Mondays during football', or '5.95 per minute (Women call for free)'.

Are guys more gullible? Are we wealthier? Do we not pay as close attention?

I don't have an answer. I'm just venting.

Thoughts from the Peeler Bar:

"How does she get that photo to stick there?"

"The cash machine charges $2.35 per withdrawal?"

"If she can wedge a glass between them and it stays, they're not real."

"$6?? For a shooter?"

"Hey, this is a good steak."

"Cool. A water fountain on the stage. A half sphere with water shooting out of a single hole in the top... oh! ICK!"

An introduction to myself:

In an effort to learn more about myself, I spent a little time over my lunch break today taking various tests on the web. Here's what they had to say:

According to The Death Test, I will die on October 13, 2046 at the age of 75 years old. I will most likely die from:

Cancer (27%)
Alcoholism (13%)
Alien Abduction (9%)
Heart Attack (7%)
Horrible Accident (5%)
Auto-Fellatio (5%)

The Sorting Hat from Harry Potter would send me to Hufflepuff House. Hufflepuff?!

If I were a horrible affliction, I would be Gonorrhea. At least I'm curable.

If I were a member of the 'Friends' cast, I would be Joey.

According to the IQ Test Labs, my IQ is 154.

When it comes to my Evil Rating, I found out I am:

50% good 50% evil
40% not sexually evil 60% sexually evil
45% not passive aggressive 55% passive aggressive
50% not black-hearted 50% black-hearted

If I were ice cream, I would be:

33.3% Chocolate
33.3% Butter Pecan
11.1% Chocolate Chip
11.1% Strawberry
11.1% Vanilla

Seethru calculates that I am 48% ageing hypocrite.

The top song on the day I was born (and thus my theme song for life) was "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?" by The Bee Gees.

I'm 26% Goth. "Goth by night, normal by day. Deep in your heart I know I'm evil, but not on the company's time. I do need to eat."

My Hobbit name is Lardo Gamgee-Took of Bywater.

My aura is Gold.

And my inner monster -- no surprise -- is a Vampire.

I hope we all learned something today. I know I did.

(Thanks to the fun people at ThreeWay Action who found all these places.)

On Boston Public: We have yet to determine what Jeri Ryan brings to the show this year. Besides her legion of Star Trek fans of course.

On The X-Files: So. The premiere really sucked, eh?

If you came here from ThreeWay Action: Scare him on the sidewalk! Ha! Ha!

Mom Rating: 0 out of 5. Mom thinks these tests are a waste of time. (Yeah, THAT'S why this is rated so low.)

On Movies

Eating Alone

Take me home, big fella