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Memoir Monday: On Tuesday, Because I’m In Advertising Now.


(Hey guys and gals. It’s Memoir Monday time! This is where you write down a story about yourself, steal my button down there, drink a beer, and call it all a win. The only rule is that it has to be true, other than that, there are no rules. I’ve had about 5 people regularly start doing it, and that’s wicked cool! Let’s try to get a few more! Once you post, let me know, and I will link you up down there for all my kick ass bloggy followers to go and read! Y’all are the greatest, and I love you. If you want to see all the Memoir Monday posts, just click on the book!)


There are a lot of joys in life, there really are.

A good book, a cold beer, a really hot chick (or dude) that wants to make the sexy times with you, and the movies of a Mr. Nicholas Cage (suck it, Ed) are just a few of them.

There are also a lot of bad things in life.

Swine flu, in-laws, a really ugly chick (or dude) that wants to make the sexy times with you, and the music of the Chinese singing sensation William Hung are a few of those.

Being asked to help someone move is on that list for a lot of people, but I really don’t mind it.

Being asked to be in a wedding is a whole other thing.


Well, Kid Funk and I got asked to be in one when we were about 21 years old.

Our good friend was getting married, and I was to be a groomsman, and The Funk was to be the best man.

We were kind of young, but I was already married, and had been for a year, so I was the old pro of the group.

They were getting married in a house, and the grooms room was a little room upstairs and down the hall from the landing where they were to perform their nuptials.

I’m going to tell you a secret here.

I’m a husky guy.

The Funk, God love him, isn’t skinny.

So we had 4 guys up there in that room, and it was HOT. Like, I had the sweat stains under the pits. Before the wedding started. Not classy. I also had a shirt on that was about 2 sizes too small, due to the fact that I forgot my shirt, and had to go to Wal-Mart and pick one up off the shelf based on a rough guess of my neck size, which I’m sure we based on hand size and how much hand it took to cover my throat.

Yeah. We were young and dumb.

Anyway, I’m squeezed into a shirt that makes it look like I should be in a package marked “Ekridge,” and The Funk is in his white shirt, because no one told him that we were supposed to be wearing blue shirts. Easy fix though, as he’s the best man. We can blame that.

What we have no excuse for, is his tie. You see, I believe he’d borrowed it from his pops. It was a leather tie, and it was about a half inch wide. The whole way down…

Yeah. We were young and dumb.

So we file out onto the landing, which is inside the house. And I’m sweatin. There are about 587 candles lit, making the room temperature a balmy 105 degrees.

On the way up the stairs, the lovely brides hair was almost a victim of said candles, as it caught a backdraft of her hairspray, and made a little fireball and a poof sound as she was ascending.

She at last met her soon to be husband at the top of the steepest flight of stairs I’d ever seen.

The scene is set. Candles, romance, a soon to be man and wife, and a set of groomsmen that are currently losing enough fluids to cause mildew problems in the floors later on.

I’ve told you that story to tell you this.

In the year of our Lord, 2000 A.D, a man named Bob Carlisle decided that he, A) loved his daughter so much that he wanted to write a song about it, or 2) wished he had a daughter to love so much that he wrote a song about it. Either way, he would eventually pen a song about loving a daughter a lot, and he would entitle this work, “Butterfly Kisses.” This song would sweep through the Christian and Country charts like wildfire, ringing true for fathers and soon to be fathers, and middle aged housewifes who wished that their husbands felt like that about their step-daughters. I had heard it several times on the radio, as The Missus liked it. (Hey, I didn’t marry her taste in music.)

Some of you may be familiar.

So, we return to our boys in distress on the stairwell.

I can’t speak for everyone else, but I had a mean case of the swamp ass already. The bride and groom are staring into each others eyes, all in love and shit, and the music starts.

“Butterfly kisses, and bedtime prayers. Puttin little white flowers, all up in your hair.”

Well, at that moment I was just wicked upset that I was going to have to stand there, sweat rolling down my balls like a swimming pool fountain with a beach ball underneath it, listening to a full song, much less THIS song, which I hated, because it’s gay.

Little did I know, they had on the 35 minute extended remix.

To be honest, I don’t think they knew either.

The music would fade out a bit, and everyone would come alert and the minister would open his mouth and then…

“Butterfly kisses, and bedtime prayers…”

Then it would fade out again, and I would try to look out of the dehydration coma I was slipping into, and I’d see the minister, finally ready to go, getting his Bible ready…

“Butterfly kisses, and bedtime prayers…”


Finally, and I don’t remember when, it stopped. I honestly think that someone punched the CD player.

The Funk and I were wicked pissed about being there anyway, because Smallville was on, and we both loved it then. We had to record it old school style, on VHS. As I recall, my VHS deck was about as dependable as a training bra, or a light day maxi pad.

In doing research for this blog, I found out that there is actually a 9 minute version of this song. I’m going to leave you all with the short version. Mostly because I value your friendship and patronship of this blog, but also a little bit because I can’t seem to find the long version.

Without further ado, I give you, Shit.

P.S. As I write this blog and find the video to post, The Missus has decided to start singing the song. I will pay money to the first person who comes and shoots me in the face. That’s real.

Other Non-Kissed Walks Down The Memoir Aisle Today Yesterday. (GO READ THEM!)

AG’s Memoir Monday: Friends.

Daffy’s Memoir Monday: Gag Me With A Spoon.

Josh’s Another Manic Monday.

Ed’s Memoir Monday: More Stupid Stories From My Past.

Corrie’s Memoir Monday: Monday Meme

Kys’ Memoir Monday: My Mom Didn’t Call Me Mac Mouth For Nothin.

Here’s one more, even though she didn’t use the button or mention it, but I just think you all need to go read this story. It’s a great one, and some of you may have read it already, but just start at 1, and work your way to 4.

Sal’s Story About Cole.