back to the Black Table
  Amy Blair    

I just got back from a short vacation in New Orleans. I expected to go there and drink Hurricanes all weekend, see some boobs, and maybe go on a swamp tour with some crazy Creole redneck with 5,000 dead alligator heads in a shed in his backyard. And, hot dog, that's pretty much what happened! What I didn't expect to happen was that I would become obsessed with getting my palm read.

I never really considered myself the kind of person who would get her palm read. But while walking in a park in New Orleans a few days ago, I suddenly got the urge to drop a couple of bucks on what I thought would be a mildly amusing little black magic hoodoo voodoo palm reading. I was in the Big Easy, afterall.

Anyway, that's how it started. Five seconds into the reading, and I was hooked harder than a big stupid catfish on the bayou.

I sat down with a smirk and handed over my right hand for examination. The palm reader took one look at my hand and admonished me. "You're pretty eclectic, huh? Girl, you don't know what you want. You don't know what you're doing. You need to figure out what you want in life. You do everything backwards. You tell your man to go out and get you ice cream and you get angry if he doesn't. But if he puts the ice cream right in front of you, you're too stubborn to take it. Oh, and marriage is definitely not looking good for you. I don't know if you're ever going to get married. I wouldn't count on marriage if I were you."

"Good. I don't want to get married," I shot back.

And with that, my five bucks was gone, and I found myself walking away in a daze, staring idiotically at my palm, wondering what I ever did to that crazy old bag of a fortune teller. I can't even eat ice cream without getting horrifically ill. What did she know?

At any rate, maybe my palm says that I'm a misguided brat and that I'll never get married. But, hey -- there are worse things in life. Weddings cause nothing but trouble for everyone.

So suck it, stupid fortune teller lady. Weddings are for suckas.

Don't believe me? Read on, craigslisters.


why must everyone get married around me at the same time? 6 within one year alone...then at least three next year that i know of so far, and that's after having been a bridesmaid five times already!

and by the way, people think being single at weddings is a good thing...i dont think i've ever met an eligible single man at a wedding yet. what's a girl to do besides smile and make friends with the five couples stationed at her table? does it ever get any better?

I've been a bridesmaid twice now, and I will be again next summer at my friends Anastasia and Tim's wedding. Weddings are like chicken pox -- once one person gets the fever, everyone around them starts dropping like crazed, itchy fools. And no, it doesn't get any better.

As much as I love my friends who are leading the wedding charge, I've got to say that dressing your girlfriends up like cheesecakes and leaving them with no other options than to drink eighteen glasses of champagne and hook up with the wedding singer is nothing short of cruel.

Well, the dressing up like a poofball and being forced to hook up with the wedding singer part is cruel. The eighteen glasses of champagne, on the other hand, is the only consolation prize.

Mmm, bubbly.

Need help getting out of a wedding...

So my moocher ex is getting married, and wants me to come to the wedding. We met in 1999, dated for 3 months & broke up. She's since moved out & hooked up with some guy she doesn't really seem to love & who is an emotional basket-case. She hooked up with this guy because she couldn't live at home with her mom, who is flat-out nuts. I feel he's being bullied into getting hitched because they can't just keep living together, can they?!? She wants me to drive 5 hours (flight would be cost prohibitive) take her mom & two younger sisters. The wedding's on a friday, which means I'd have to take 2 days off work. Plus, I think it's one of those goofy renaissance wedding where everyone (all 20 of us) dress up like medievil times nutjobs. And she expects me to be her fiance's best man, I never even met or talked to the guy. I know I'd be freakin' uncomfotable with that if I was him. Oh, she also borrowed $400 that she never paid back, and had the nerve to get mad at me when I asked her what she was going to buy with MORE money she wanted me to "lend" her.

Help! Gimme a way out of this.

please reply to the e-mail link cause I live nowhere near California.


Here Ye, Here Ye-dumbass ex-boyfriend who is actually considering attending this wedding…

You dated this psycho chick for just three short months FIVE YEARS AGO. You lent her $400 that she never repaid. Now she wants you to drive five hours to her wedding, be the best man to her fiancé whom you have never met, take her nutjob mother and sisters to the wedding, take two days off work, AND dress up like the village idiot from medieval dorkville?

And you're asking how to get out of this?? Babycakes, you need to grow a set in the worst way. You shouldn't even be going to this wedding, let alone walking the tavern wench down the aisle.

That one time on my Balcony

Won't say what city this was, but the day after my wedding, the night before leaving for 2 weeks to Kauai I was throwing out what ever would have spoiled in the fridge.

I pulled the last 3 eggs out of the fridge and took them out to the 11th floor balcony to smoke a joint with my cousin (my 4 a.m. ride to the airport)

We smoked the joint and decided we'd toss the eggs at cars on the street below us. I tossed one and missed a Mercedes by 10 feet. My cousin tosses his and misses a Porsche by 20 feet.

Fuck it I say and throw the last egg as far and as high in the air as I can IN NO GENERAL DIRECTION.

Out of nowhere this lady steps out of the shadows and this egg - this egg that started on the 11th floor- went as high as the 14th floor and 50 yards in distance came down in a glorious arc and landed FLAT ON THIS BITCHES FOREHEAD.

Not the top of the head. Not the side of the ear, but KAPOW - LIKE RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES AND THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE.

She went down like a sack of potatoes and I almost shit in my pants with the fear of being in jail instead of being on my honey moon.

Needless to say, everything was cool - I made it to Hawaii the entire time and had a hard dick on the entire flight.

OK, so you've just gotten married, and you're sleeping soundly, dreaming about the glorious honeymoon week that you're about to spend in Hawaii. You assume that your new husband is doing the same.

But no.

Instead he's stoned with his fathead cousin throwing rotten eggs at luxury cars from an 11th floor balcony.

But wait.

Not only is he throwing eggs at Porsches, he's also managed to throw one 3 stories in the air and actually hits a woman like KAPOW - LIKE RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES AND THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE. As your new hubby so eloquently put it, she went down like a sack of potatoes.

Thankfully, "everything was cool." Cause, he didn't get arrested and he like totally had a hard dick on the entire flight to Hawaii.

God, marriage is romantic.

A white wedding may not be written in my stars, but I'll take it. My only regret is that I'll never get to dress my friends up like matching Little Bo Peeps on crack. I'm a bitch like that, cause I really would enjoy it.

Now somebody go out and get me some ice cream!


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Amy Blair, winner of The Village Voice's "best website's summary of another website" award, is eager to be called horrible names on Craig's List. Bring it.