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Subject: Westport #94 - Large Wedding Parties
(Posted on Nov 25, 2014 at 02:44PM ) Tags:
There seems to be a trend the last few years to ever-larger wedding parties. 




What is "too many" in a wedding party? It sure can make the whole experience like herding cats in a few ways and create some problems. A couple pieces that argue to keep it small and some reasons why can be found here and here, but the trend to "bigger be better" continues, even while other elements of a wedding may be getting smaller per here. But is there a "right" number on this matter? Wedding planner David Tutera weighs in with his opinion on bridesmaid count. 


Too many people in the mix can slow things down, in terms of the ceremony processional, the receiving line and/or introductions. Wedding party photos are that much more lengthy and troublesome to coordinate as well, with so many present. Stuff also gets more complicated, especially for the ladies, in terms of dress and shoe styles and keeping them all happy, but a bride can always try and work around that and get creative. There possibly needs to be more talk and planning too on hair, make-up, and accessories, but Bob don't know so much about all that stuff.


If you do want to play this "go big or go home" game, you may want to try and keep things balanced out more or less equally on both sides of the aisle. 


Bob’s been in back-to-back wedding parties that featured a larger than normal bodycount so he speaks a little from firsthand experience. The one before this wedding in Westport, Bob was in a 9 + 9 balanced situation. The Wesport affair here was a bit different, cuz like, he was also a bridesman (or male bridesmaid).

This one featured an accompanying 12 + 7 formation for the groom and bride sides, respectively, but ALL were guys, save the best maid / woman / person (or honor attendant if you are going more gender-neutral). Having the guys in tuxes all lined up in a long row made it a pretty homogenous blend of bridesmen and groomsmen. Bob was curious as to why a bride would have only male friends stand up for her, and no females, but hey, some folks roll that way in life. The ladies can stew and gossip some more on that element. 

Here's an example of more bridesmaids but not too off-kilter on the male-female, groomsman–bridesmaid balance. This also shows the processional parade angle taking longer too. 


Many groomsmen are in the mix here. 


.
If faced with tough selection choice, a bride could also adopt an alternative approach and hire her bridesmaids if friends can’t make the cut one way or another.


Hollywood has already glommed onto this “for hire” concept, what with this coming movie on that very same idea.


So, if in the end, one decides to go big, what is up with the folks that specifically select 13 per side, and tempting their marital fate that way? Be safe, and go 12 or 14. Bob already had a take on the number 13 and its potential significance on wedding day in this other post.


Sure, you can have a LOT of close friends, making it hard to decide on who to include, not hurt anybody’s feelings, or other reasons, but hey—buck up. Either that or include nobody and make everyone miffed. Or better yet, run away, make it far away (as discussed in this practical post) and you have a valid excuse to put into play. Or get married in a country or culture where there is no such thing as a wedding party, like when Bob was at #25 in Santiago, Chile. making things much simpler.

The other extreme is go somewhere where they be splashing it out BIG in that wedding party count department. Take this one outisde Colombo, Sri Lanka, between Nisansala Kumari Arivasiri (bride) and Nalin Pathirana,  with 126  bridesmaids, 25 best men, 20 page boys and 23 flower girls. That be some serious action, and more people than some have in total as guests! This wedding happened in November 2013 and set the Guinness World Record in this department of most bridesmaids to one bride. It broke way past the previous record at a Thai wedding with 96 bridesmaids. More pictures of this massive wedding party can be found here.


The corresponding record for most groomsmen / ushers for one groom is a relatively paltry 47 per here in 2003 in the Toronto area, between Suresh Joachim Arulanantham with his bride Christa Rasanayagam. However, despite the record on one side, note that the guys were still upstaged by 79 bridesmaids.


I guess they like to supersize that angle when you hail from Sri Lanka. Our main man actor here was also in the record book for a couple other mentions too. Note as a small aside, Bob got invited to a wedding in Sri Lanka back in the summer of ‘99, but that tale is for another time.

Bob is NOT covering off the wedding party fashion angle here, because that was already done in this earlier post. Yet another way to make a wedding party statement or cater to specific situations in certain destinations, like say, wanting lots of firepower for some added oomph and protection, was done here.

But at the end of the day, when making your own personal decision, do whatever the hell it is you want, and/or your budget will allow. It’s YOUR day after all. Unless of course, someone’s mother-in-law wades into the fray to have her way.  But hey, that mother-in-law topic will be dealt with some other time. One topic at a time, people.
 
Subject: Mustique #47 - Deconstructing that preposterous 'p' perversion
(Posted on Nov 15, 2014 at 01:52PM ) Tags:
You’re on vacation on a luxe tropical island, and it’s midmorning on your sister’s wedding day when one of your British cohort offers up a local St. Vincent Hairoun lager to get the day going after breakfast. 


Hey, it’s always night time somewhere, and that’s the way this lot rolled, especially Paine “Pongo” Lytton-Renworth. So you just go with the flow.

[PPLR] “In your case, this should act as prescient parallel post-party palliative and preemptive pre-party potation.”

[BNB] “That’s a plethora of p-p-ps, Pongo. Ten. Well done.”

[PPLR] “I take pains to perform and please.”

[BNB] “But not as many as in, say, uhm, uhhh…Peter Pocklington picked a peck of pickled Popocatapetl peppers with a passel of partisan professional paella peddlers from Pontevedra province peripheral to Portugal.”

[PPLR] “Good heavens. What preposterous p profligacy.”

So just what was Bob's crazy-ass parade of 'p' words all about? The basic building block is that classic tongue twister about Peter Piper, which is included in the Mother Goose collection of rhymes.


Of course Bob, being the eccentric and twisted character he is, had to go jazz that up a bit for adults and take it one step further. So let's look at those elements one at a time. 

First, about that Peter Pocklington cat (we'll abbreviate him as PePo) … if you ain’t a certain age and don’t hail from Canuckistan, you are likely not going to know of our man who used to own the Edmonton Oilers ice hockey team from 1976 to 1998.  


For those not in the sports know, that type of hockey is kinda different from that other hockey some folks play with a curvy stick on grass or artificial turf. Per below, you decide which one is better; not that Bob has any personal preference or bias at all. It's kinda just like how the mainstream media reports the news. 




Now, back to PePo, who was perhaps most (in)famous for signing Wayne Gretzky to the team in 1978 and then later trading his ass to Los Angeles in 1988. Hey, shit happens in pro sports, and that’s the way the ball bounces or puck passes. It’s about da bidni$$, Bobbolin(o/a), and maximizing value on a “depreciating asset.” Get over it.  Local folks in Edmonton at the time of the trade wuz real pissed though.


They sometimes also used to call our PePo guy Peter Puck (and Peter Puke for a bit post trade), but he sure as shit wasn’t the original NHL Peter Puck that Bob remembers as a kid.

Note that in those good old daze, folks playing the game mostly didn’t wear helmets either, and they only became mandatory in 1979. Back in that period, even wearing car seatbelts wasn’t yet legislated either.

Popocatapetl? That’s the active Mexican volcano, most properly spelled with the accent included as Popocatépetl, for those that need to be (anally) accurate.


This video below from 2013 shows a UFO ducking down into the active volcano. Perhaps they were looking for our guy PePo and them pepper pickers cum paella peddlers.


Passel is just some fancypants word for pack, as in a large group of an indeterminate number of people. How big? Who knows … and who cares really. It was all about the 'p' sound stuff anyway at the time. Maybe that and Bob wanting to mess with Pongo's head a bit.

Then we had the bit about the paella, that famous Spanish dish with a long history, and some folks who were selling the stuff in a certain part of Spain. Yo, check out these big-ass paella pans being used. 



 
Pontevedra is both a Spanish city and a province. It’s the province that touches Portugual per this map below.


Note that Pontevedra makes way more sense in the whole tongue twister equation, than, erhm, say other provincial places in the world like Perugia or Pampanga. Hey, it’s entirely plausible that if you wanted special peppers to put in your paella, be they pickled or not, you would do as these folks did, even if you had to go a very long way away to get them, and then bring them back to Spain for the preparation and subsequent peddling in province.

And as for our guy PePo being there at the volcano, maybe he was still in hiding after the whole Gretzy trade debacle and his other follow-on business activities that may not have worked out exactly the way he intended.

Bob always strives to bring you things of consequence in our world, even if he's just some single stumblebum attending weddings around the world, and randomly spewing stuff out on the fly. Bob's take on Peter Piper still isn't as good as the Run-D.M.C. rap take on it and other nursery rhymes from 1986. 




Bob never liked his Electrical Engineering (EE) studies at all. It was not his cup of tea, he just stuck through to the bitter end and then moved on with life. As pointed out in the book at that wedding in Cancun when faced with a seriously misbehaving coffee machine, this was his take on it all. 
 
“You studied electrical engineering, didn’t you?” she said.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I learned anything practical like being an electrician.”

The whole EE thing had seemed mostly about ways to do all kinds of crazy-ass, 
fucked-up math, most of which I’d already forgotten, nearly seven years after
graduation. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Voltage, V, is I times R.
 

Here’s a typical example of that stuff, as pulled from a scintillating 2013 paper entitled "Electrical Conductivity and Nonmetal–Metal Transition of Dense Iron and Nickel Plasmas." Now, doesn't the equation below, as pulled from that puppy, just get your heart racing with excitement and want to go sign up for several years of this stuff?



Some more imaginative and innovative cats in the space like to take things beyond theory and put them into practice, for the benefit and education of all. Here’s one example demonstrating electrostatic discharge, but EE ElectroBoom guy Medhi Sadaghdar has a whole series up here if you want to learn some more.


Here’s a list of notable EEs over the years. Geez, not a lot of chikitas there, just as it was in Bob’s engineering class. Also not good and yet another reason to stay away from that field of study. Rowan Atkinson took it to one level more of punishment and paper from BS (bullshit) to MS (more shit), and look what he did with his life. Change it up is what, once he got smart about that choice. 

Some may even want to take stuff a step further and go all the way to Ph.D (piled higher and deeper). Bob's view on education in general can be found in his last post.

Exactly! Take that as a hint. At the end of the day, Bob reckons that most electrical engineers would much rather be like this guy—the most interesting man in the world from the well-known series of Dos Equis beer ads. EE sure ain’t gonna do that for your ass. There are a ton of those commericials, and many can be seen here and here, beyond what is below.



Maybe even more interesting is the background on how that actually happened for our man Jonathan Goldsmith behind the beer ad campaign.


On the other hand, EE studies may well make you the least interesting man in the world.


On a related note, just just because you didn’t study EE, don’t let that stop you and your friends from exploring the joyous possibilities of electricity in different ways.


Here are a few good ideas in that department. Bob’s personal favorite in this compilation is the #4 pissing on the electric fly swatter. 
 

But danger, danger, in reality, it can get way more serious than that. Remember, there are big perils out there with electricity, especially as the voltage level climbs, as this video from India graphically points out. N.B. Nonny donny press play if you are squeamish about seeing someone get completely crisped. 


You don’t need to have studied electrical engineering to have that warning come home. Makes you wonder how Dos Equis man would have managed that. Really, at the end of the day, for most EEs out there toiling away in industry, the work is a far cry from anything really exciting.


As an exception, this cat has a few more thrills in the field though. You gotta like his parting commentary about his three fears in life.



Whatever you choose to do with your life, be it EE, not EE, or sumpin’ else completely, make sure you do it well, as our learned and experienced pitchman advocates—that's something you can take to the bank.



Bob is so friggin' glad he traded that whole world in to become a part-time typist (PTT) and occasional wedding guest (OWG) at spots all around the world.
Subject: Epilogue - Education + intelligence blah-blah
(Posted on Oct 29, 2014 at 09:10AM ) Tags:
Toward the end of the book, after all the wedding dust has settled, Bob, Dr. LoveSexy and Jock Finn are engaged in some bi-coastal, morning BBM action on the subjects of marriage, relationships and women, when a brief, spontaneous topical detour to education and intelligence occurs.

Bogus Bob: Cry me a river! Education is not everything. It is a piece of paper, like marriage. Edumuhcation is just as important, if not more so. Everything important you learn on your own outside school in the real world anyhoo. As one friend long ago told me: B.A. = bugger all; B.S. = bull shit; M.S. = more shit; and Ph.D. = piled higher & deeper. Not to disparage education generally, but having a piece of paper doesn’t mean one is more of a rocket scientist than someone who doesn’t have one. There are many measures of intelligence.

Dr. LoveSexy: Linguistic, logic-math, bodily-kinesthetics, musical, spatial, interpersonal, and intrapersonal. Blah blah bleehhh. IQ is just an incomplete white man’s invention for the benefit of white folks anyway. Measures only the first 2 out of 7.

Jock Finn: Of course. I know all about that 7 measures of intelligence shite. They added an eighth—naturalistic—and there is even debate on others.

Dr. LoveSexy: Regardless of how one measures it, you’re both fuckwits. Put some of those Mensa mofos on the street in a real situation, and they wouldn’t last so long. Enough. A man got work to do and bills to pay. Don’t drain my day with this academic white drivel.

Dr. LoveSexy has left the conversation.

Jock Finn: Hmmm, I guess we should listen to Yoda. We singles are a dying breed and need to stick together, like the Jedi. OK, off to work.

The paper education versus life and self-education (aka edumuhcation) bit is pretty clear, but what were those 7 or 8 measures of intelligence all about? You can drill down here on the multiple forms (or modalities) of intelligence as theorized by Howard Gardner, and even a ninth, existential, was added too. One of his main points was that our standardized Intelligence Quotient (IQ) tests don’t represent the Full Monty on completely assessing all modalities and someone’s true intelligence. So, like somebody could have a high IQ and still be a full six pack short of all the remaining unmeasured modalities.


Similarly, someone with a lower IQ could have huge capabilities in the unmeasured areas. Many sources contest and point out that IQ tests also test spacial ability, but that is two-dimensional only typically, and not in the πth dimension (yeah, that pi, as opposed to the rhubarb or chocolate pecan type). So put that in your pipe and smoke it. Of course there was a lot of debate and discussion on Gardner's theory. But at the end of the day, does it all even really matter? Next time someone calls you stupid or an effwit, dazzle them with that stuff and tell ‘em you are "off the charts" in those non-standardized, unmeasured areas.


Sometimes, it’s those little everyday things in the world where you witness spontaneous sparks of imaginative intelligence to solve a problem that may likely not be found on any test, or insight delivered from any textbook.


And, if you are being formally tested or judged, don’t be boxed in by others’ limited expectations and constraining lines of questioning.  Change the game or playing field up. Turn those shite, ever-so-tricky, math mysteries into something else, as ably and creatively demonstrated here.

 
Maybe them folks at Mensa might get all pissed, cuz, like, if the playing field changed for defining intelligence as IQ is accepted today, it might overturn that whole apple cart.
 
 

Your sorry ass be thinking the world is flat, and mofos come along and show it’s round—yo, that stuff will mess with your head.


Not fitting flush into the Mensa fold, think it too elitist, or that it doesn’t serve a porpoise [sic]? Think different—sign up for Densa instead!


It’s much more inclusive and easier to get it in. Here’s a piece that speaks to its origins and you can take a short test here. Then there's the classic Homer Simpson take on being smart (or "smaht" as many may say in Boston and MA environs).


If you are feeling intellectually inadequate, either way, it's possible do something about it right now and fix your life!  A little superior in the intelligence department? Well, there’s a pill for that, so you can downward adjust, and be just like everyone else around you.


On the flip side, want to get a little sharper? Try downing a few bottles of this Lithuanian bad boy, Vytautas. They claim it will make your wits so sharp you’ll be able to slay vampires with them. Schweet!  Plus, this awesome Earth juice seemingly has other huge benefits like drastically reducing your chances of being raped by a gang of pandas, if there’s any truth in advertising out there still in the world.


On a sidebar note, Bob thinks that this last video kinda represents the vibe of what the overall book experience on completion can be like. Sorta like “What the hell just happened here?!”

Bob ain’t just some daft dude hitting weddings all around the world for shits and giggles. He’s imaginated real hard to invent some of them education type letters to put after his name, so he can socialize with those well-studied, titled-up folks and not feel inadequate. Three bestowed to date … PTT (Part-Time Typist), OWG (Occasional Wedding Guest) and HHRF (Head Honcho Rancho Fuckwit). In time, he’ll work on some more.




Subject: Amman #52 - Spelling that guy's name
(Posted on Oct 21, 2014 at 05:34PM ) Tags:
So while Bob was bopping around Amman in 2000 for a wedding, one of the things in the back of his mind was the murkiness surrounding the multitude of English name spellings for that famed Libyan leader, Muammar Gaddafi. In Arabic his full name is معمر محمد أبو منيار القذافي

I could progress one day to the myriad spellings of everyone’s good
friend and drinking buddy–cum–regional strongman, Colonel Qaddafi.
Or was it Gadafi? Qudhafi works. El Kazzafi anyone?
It’s Qadhdhāfī too,
McNumbNuts. 
Surely it was clearer and simpler in Arabic.

One kick at the proverbial can here was clearly not enough, and Bob came back for a second run at it later on in the chapter. 

Revisiting Libya’s Colonel naming confusion, there was much yet still to
master.  
Muammar Al-Gathafi? Omar Mouammer Al Gaddafi?  For added
measure, Qathafi, Mu'Ammar el 70. May his moniker mayhem morph some
more with Mulazim Awwal Mu'ammar Muhammad Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi
added to the pile.

That last variant seems to be the longest naming version on record for our esteemed leader. 


It seems the complexity of getting his name right in English centers around his name as pronounced in Arabic and not being able to properly transcribe it across into English letters, something referred to as transliteration. This short video encapsulates some of those spellings.
 

"No one can agree on how to spell Gadhafi's name. He's like the Hanukkah of dictators." 
                                                                                                                                             - Jimmy Kimmel

Five pieces all from 2011 jump into glorious detail on the matter as evinced below.

1) Time Magazine

2) Dictionary.com

3) Business Insider

4) The Economist

5) Good Magazine

ABC dug deep in 2009 to come up with 112 different spellings. We won’t bother to list them all here but they are in that piece for all those that just need the full Monty there. The visualization below may possibly be the handiest device out there for compactly laying out his name spelling variants.



Then this other cat tried to get a little analytical on the subject here based on search results, focusing only on the surname, and forgetting about his first name. He was able to get it down to 41 from the 112 above, but there's still some serious long tail action going on.



There are a lot of possibilties at play here at each step along the way per below, and looks like even more spelling options than the simple visualization above. 
 

This StraightDope piece from 1986 tried to tackle the matter as well, Perhaps, best and simplest for all (in the English language anyway), would have been as Bob thought about it during the wedding reception.
One solution—having the Colonel talk to  , aka TAFKaP,
back in the day when said artist went through that phase.
A timely connection between the two characters regarding
naming guidance and simple symbolism could have made things
much easier for all in the world regarding the Libyan’s label.

This fuzzy (yet still legible) photo of his son Mohammed's passport may yield some clues as to how his old man hay have had his name spelled in his own passport. Yet another surprising version at play here with Al Gathafi. 



In addition to having a name with multiple spellings, he was also a man of many titles at various points in time, be they self-appointed or not. Among them: King of (African) Kings, Imam of Muslims, Dean of African Rulers, Leader of the Revolution, Keeper of Arab Nationalism, and more informally perhaps, The Colonel. There was also that whole special fashion swagger he had, but that is probably best left for a whole separate analysis together with Prince lumped into the same boat.

And as with many celebrities, the ravages of time can take their toll on one’s outward-facing aesthetics. But it looks like our main man took that aspect in stride and let nature do its thing, and not try and fight it with repeated bouts of cosmetic surgery that make folks look like some exotic stretched Asian feline. Give him credit for that. 



Anyway, with all this confusion and no definitive resolution on such a small, discrete spelling matter, ain’t no wonder we got no peace in the Middle Crease. This is what happens when you’re some single punter hitting weddings all over the globe with different cultures and languages at play.




Subject: Singapore #77 - Kicking 'round the Kaaba
(Posted on Oct 4, 2014 at 01:20PM ) Tags:
So what gives with that Kaaba reference and analogy toward the end of that chapter, when Bob and a couple of the lads were decompressing at the end of the night after they left the wedding. They were having drinks and chatting to a posse of females inside the ever-interesting Orchard Towers with its famed nightlife that was otherwise covered in this other post.

Girls, smelling money, gathered like the slow counterclockwise-circling pilgrim swarm around the Kaaba in Mecca during Hajj.

Bob was thinking in that general sense of Islam, as Ramadan was full on during that October 2004 wedding trip to Singapore, and the locals of that faith were adhering to that month-long practice. Note that Ramadan and the Hajj do not coincide, but Hajj does coincide this year with Yom Kippur, for the first time in three decades. Bob just figured to cover it off today, since it is Eid al-Adha, after all. Call it coink-e-dink if you prefer.

The Kaaba (or Ka’aba) is the cuboid building and most sacred site inside the most sacred mosque in Mecca, the Masjid al-Haram. The book's tie to the circling swarm can be seen in reality below.



The circling is called Tawaf, and is always done in counter-clockwise fashion. Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that busy in the bar … Bob was just using a little hyperbole and artistic license to make his point. Here’s a 3D animation of the inside and some more background information here for those really curious about the structure.



This video explains the rites of Hajj in six minutes for some added depth. Seems like things are all mapped out for folks on the pilgrimage.


This great VICE documentary really gives one some good perspective on what the scene is really like during the Hajj. Makes the logisitics behind Burning Man seem like child’s play in comparison.


A pretty crowded scene, and I imagine it is tough to actually be allowed to get inside the Kaaba these days, unless you are some VIP cum special guest. In case you are wondering what the inside is like in reality, the answer lies here in this clandestine video that does us all a favor. 


It makes me wonder what this guy’s treatment would have been if he had been caught filming. Most fulfilling their pilgrimage will never get to see the inside of the place. It looks like a tough ticket to get, especially if one is non-Muslim, since only Muslims are allowed inside Mecca, unless one sneaks in somehow. I’m sure that has been done before.

There was a bit of brouhaha earlier this year, as recounted here, when a local cop on duty took a decidedly more relaxed pose on the shrine, and placing the sole of his shoe against it. He looks pretty weary, and probably just needed a rest. However, it certainly wasn't interpreted that way, per this longstanding gesture in the Arab world and what it means as discussed here.


There was a temporary outcry back in 2006 when Apple unveiled its iconic Fifth Avenue store in NYC. Perhaps just another coink-e-dink in the world, as opposed to some porpoiseful [sic] ploy on the wrapping during construction. You can be the judge of that, based on these photos before and after, as compared to the shrine.




Anyway, this whole Kaaba analogy was just a throwaway late night comment by some wedding traveler in a bar with his friends for those that might pick up on the reference. So now you know what's behind it and the link to girls and money. 



Subject: Hawaii #54 - When lads look for lingerie
(Posted on Sep 21, 2014 at 10:28PM ) Tags:
So you’re out shopping to get your gal some fine underwear or lingerie, and what to do and how to go about it all? If you’ve never gone down that road before, don't despair. It’s really not all that complicated or intimidating.

First, you just better know her size, up top, and down below. That’s VERY important. Some referenced pieces below suggest a strategy there if you need some help. Next, we'll deal with the two basic building blocks for most situations. 

There are many types of bras for up top, and here's a basic array of the styles out there to choose from.
Then for the panties down below, you also want to know the general cut and style preferred, as explained here in words, and seen below. Looking at this matrix from top to bottom, I hear some guys going "Meh…" on Row 1, "Getting a little more interesting” on Row 2, and “Now we talkin'!on Row 3.
Here’s a little video advice to get started, as espoused by a few of the ladies. 



Here are two better, more detailed and helpful written pieces on getting started in this whole area, here and here. There’s generally a ton of information and guidance out there if you want to dig some more.

But the real golden nugget of knowledge here lies with what all of the above or anyone else AIN’T gonna tell you.

That’s where Bob dishes it out to Jock Finn, late at night at a fancy Hawaiian reception, after the lads have some underwear on the brain, as it were. It will deffo win a guy a major future hall pass and/or brownie points from the lady in his life. Unless, like, uhm, he got several on the go. But hey, that angle be for another time, and another chapter in the book, with other characters and discussions. For each and every one he does buy lingerie for though, this tip still applies.

As Bobby Bo discussed with Jock Finn, one important secret sisterhood tip the ladies ain’t usually sharing on lingerie purchasing is this below. As a guy, you need to know. This is deep insight destined for application in the trenches of mandom.

[BNB] “When you’re buying lingerie for your honey, buy a double set of
matching lowers to go with every bra up top.”

[JF] “Why?”

[BNB] “On account of they can wear the top a few times no problem, but
down below, being a bit more squishy squashy and all, they tend to change
the bottoms out more frequently. With two bottoms, the overall set lasts
longer between laundering than with just the one.”


[JF] “You know, that is a good one. As a guy, damned if I’d ever think of that
myself.”

That’s a top tip if ever for the guys out there when it comes to buying this stuff, but may on occasion need to be tempered with the actual retail experience. 

[BNB] "The only practical issue I’ve encountered on occasion is with the salesgirl
in the store; 
sometimes you need to wrassle for that second pair of bottoms. They
tend to not like 
breaking up matching sets and being stuck with a bunch of extra
tops …. 
One way around it—buy a thong, a full-seat jobbie, or a cheeky, along with
the bra. 
It seems to be far less of an issue. But then your honey has to be into those
as opposed 
to just the thong."
 
There's quite a bit more to their actual exchange in the chapter. Bring Bob a problem, and he brings your ass (or her's, perspective dependent) a solution. He ain’t just some single guy hitting weddings around the world. There be a ton of deeper matters delved into about how our big bad world out there works in the shadows. You ain’t gonna be seeing this stuff on TV, learning it in school, or even dropped in some women’s advice column either.

One of your bigger decisions in this purchase process is how much "jingle jangle from Juan’s bol$illo" you want to be  plunking out here, cuz, like, you can drop a lotta dinero on this stuff, depending on your budget, taste, and lust factor at play in the moment, stage or state of the relationship.

And like with anything you do in life, including buying your gal some lingerie, there's a need to pay a little attention to detail, yet not lose focus of the big picture and surroundings, as this fine European ad demonstrates.


Further, when you’re that dude venturing into a lingerie shop somewhere, stay sharp as well, lest you get taken advantage of by some casual chikita banana shopper or salesgirl looking to have some fun at your expense. D'oh, Homer!


Last, this compilation can also be used for even more ideas and style inspiration on the matter if one needs to dig even deeper. 


Now, for the other side of the coin, what about the fellas and their underwear selection stuff? Quick like a bunny, it’s way simpler, as main man rapper MF Doom throws out here on his "Space Ho's" collaboration with Danger Mouse, where they are collectively known as Danger Doom


Note the strategic silence in the lyric line above is paying a bit of homage to Notorious B.I.G. in "Unbelievable," where he raps, ”Wear boxers so my dick can breathe.”

So, ladies, between MF Doom and Biggie, with a little help from Judy Jetson, all y’all got your answer on shopping for your guy down below. Maybe, sorta, kinda ... sometimes.


But you may otherwise find the book way more insightful and entertaining, especially as it comes to some guy's global observations and spin on weddings, marriage, and relationships.



You go to a few weddings, and as a guy, you wonder why many bridesmaid dresses are so bad, be it the color, the style, or to maximize the effect, knocking off both angles simultaneously. Maybe it’s because the bride needs to ensure she outshines her posse, so she purposely goes out of her way to peg them down a notch or two in the fashion department. But at the end of the day, the bride can be partly judged by how well her girls are dressed as it's a reflection of her taste.

Here’s an attempt at an anatomical breakdown on how to do this right with a few choice suggestions. 


It could well be a true test of a bride's friendship with her gals. Maybe you match the dresses to the drapes, as noted here by yours truly at that 1987 Montreal wedding.

The interior was decorated in rich, soft colors, and the bridesmaids’ dresses were designed to match the room’s peach draperies—or was it vice versa?—per decree by Carole’s mother, Celine. I didn’t ask.

But then you take it to another level altogether beyond just a simple soft color and put some patterns to that curtain play.


Or sometimes, better yet, maybe you have the dresses made from actual drapery material.







There really are a lot of possibilities for getting that special look you covet as the bride for your tightknit troupe on the biggest day of your life. You can certainly just go BOLD with color to make an impact.





The vintage look can also have its appeal as well, amd is a little softer in its approach.




Then there’s that slightly sassy, cheeky look too for shits and giggles in a quick photo opp with your BFFs, even if the rest of your collective attire is otherwise just fine. 



Or maybe you need to fret and fuss for that "furry fringe" look to really take things to an absolutely friggin' fantabulous level. Some $hekel$ must have been spent to get this vibe just right.


A lot of the guys won’t be complaining about the boob overload look though. Breathe deeply for added effect.


In all fairness though, the discriminating fashion choices need not be exclusive to the female side of the equation. The fellas can also go out on a limb with their outfit tastes as well, but it usually doesn't seem to be as extreme as with the ladies, and can be quite subtle.







Then, there are those nuptials where the fashion faux pas equally straddle both sides of the gender divide and aisle, whether it's impromptu, "come as you are" casual, a painstakingly planned theme affair, or looking back in time a few decades for inspiration.







 
There's no need to write much, when the pictures show it way better. This single-guy wedding attendee hasn’t been blessed by any such fashion-forward events as seen here,so maybe he's really missed out on sumpin' in life. 

Bob just be laying out a few fashion options for your benefit and consideration on your big day so everyone looks their best. The possibilities are endless, if you really apply some imagination and creative energy to your wardrobe selections. One need not be limited by budget constraints to make a daring style statement, yet keep it classy. 

 



In keeping with the name game practice of hidden meanings and/or famous references sprinkled throughout the book, some of the characters in this beachside wedding chapter down Mexico way circa winter 1996 fall into ths category. 

There was a porpoiseful [sic] musical theme going on with the names of Bob's former classmates that attended from Europe, whether they be Dutch, Norwegian, Cuban or Spanish by origin. They were all lumped together in a single sentence in gang-of-five fashion.

There was Anouk ter Eeuw, Dutch, here on vacation with a female friend of hers,
Norwegian Morten Furuholmen, his Cuban wife Ana Cristina, and from Barcelona,
Jaume Sisa, with his wife Malú, which was short for María Lucía.

 
Here’s the deal on all of the names and references therein. 

1) Anouk ter Eeuw was a play on Dutch singer Anouk (Teeuwe). She's probably best remembered for 1997's "Nobody’s Wife" and picked no doubt for the marital theme there, and perhaps the blonde hair in common with Birgitta Henriksen at the time.


Her surname, ter Eeuw, translates from Dutch meaning "for centuries" and sums up how long Bob felt the two-week vacation and wedding trip had seemingly dragged on for with girlfriend Birgitta at the time. 

2) Morten Furuholmen and Norway are the clues for the take on A-ha from back in 1985, and their biggest hit "Take on Me". This was a combination of the names of two of its three members, Morten Harket (vocals) and Magne Furuholmen (keyboards). Hey, bad on Bob for not working in third member Pål Waaktaar (guitarist), but hey, Paul had a few variants on his name it seems, so it was kept simple.


3) Ana Cristina borrows the name of current day singer-songwriter of Cuban descent, Ana Cristina (Álvarez). But in 1996, our real-life, yet-to-be entertainer was not even 11 years old at the time of the wedding, so Bob just time-traveled her name back as needed. Yo, artistic license allows for this kind of crap anyhoo. It's Bob's book, and he can do whatever he wants.


4) Jaume Sisa and Malú (María Lucía), the couple from Barcelona, were named after the two Spanish singers. Our guy definitely has his own style, and defines himself as "Galactic." Makes one wonder if any alien abduction stuff is at play here. Her style is a little more conventional, and she's the niece of Paco De Lucía, the renowned guitarist, and daughter of the flamenco singer, Pepe De Lucía. There be a whole lot of music going on in that family. 
 

In aggregate, Bob was going with names that fit with the countries of origin, and not necessarily that the music by some of these artists, if a little mellow jello at times by some folks' judgment, grooved with his own personal taste. Currently, Bob is more likely to be listening to something more energetic and punchy, or a little Austin Powers shagadelic and groovy, Baby, just like these two tunes.


5) Last, but not least, for non pop-culture, bookworm types, I threw in a solitary literary reference in this chapter with Juan Rulfo, who was named after the Mexican author (1917 – 1986), screenwriter and photographer of note. His character in the book is the Mexican friend of the bride's family, who worked as an economist in Phoenix. He was the guy mixing up the micheladas that afternoon and pouring out the fine tequila later in the evening.


Sometimes you go with fame, and sometimes you go with a name that just sounds really kool. From the sporting world, in this latter category, the likes of Coco Crisp, Dick Trickle, Fabián Assmann and I.M. Hipp spring to mind and provide for inspiration there. With names like that, it makes one wonder if they actually "are" and/or "do" when met live in-person. 



Bob is saving a few of these neater sounding (but completely fabricated) names for the next two instalments in the trilogy. Here’s a prime tandem example to come: 

 Jack Goff and Holden Hiscock—they were the best of friends.
 
There’s also gonna be some cat called Chris Peacock and a “chikita banana” named  Selena Goodhead. As regards the banana angle in that expression, it was covered off in detail here recently. 

Hey, don’t look at Bob that way regarding all this movie-based naming innuendo! It’s all in keeping with tradition and the likes of Alotta Fagina from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997), on down to Dr. Holly Goodhead from Moonraker (1979) and even further back to Pussy Galore in Goldfinger (1964).


One would need to do some much deeper research to see if this goes back even earlier than the start of the first Bond flick, Dr. No (1962), or predating Ian Fleming's original book series.

My all-time favorite with this naming convention comes from the same Fagina bin, in this scene from Austin Powers in Goldmember (2002), with Austin going Japanese (in stereo to boot, for added aural fidelity) with them sassy twins Fook Mi and Fook Yu. There's so much more to this scene between the dialogue, body language / physicality, visuals and even Austin's ten-deep bucket list, the details of which are listed here if one is so-ever curious and discerning to dig deep on them there devilish details. 


There’s alotta good material to play with here, and so little time.

So sayeth Bob N. Boguslavski, some single guy meeting all kinds of interesting people at weddings around the planet. With a name like his, makes you wonder if it’s real. But then all you have to do is compare his name to some of those last ones above, and you ain’t gonna be spinning many cerebral cycles for long.

After all, as stated at the start of the novel, "this is a work of f(r)iction, where fact and fiction rub up against each other, and nobody wants to know it regardless."



The close of this chapter set in 1994 features a brief exchange centered around bananas.

A global spat on banana distribution had erupted in late 1993 between the US and EU. This informative piece lays out the playing field nicely. On one side, you had your American-owned  Latin American companies pumping out larger-sized bananas, and on the other side, you had European-owned enterprises that operated in many former colonies of Africa, the Caribbean, and Pacific with smaller-sized bananas  As for taste and texture preferences and differences, it wasn't about that. At stake was importation into different global markets, and a tussle over tariffs and quotas.

It was all kind of like a “my banana be better (if not bigger) than your banana" battle. 


Maybe the Germans had the right attitude with "just let the consumer decide," but of course that would have been too easy and logical. As tall Dutchman Ruud de Cock presciently commented,

"If we can’t even fix bananas, how we can fix all the other serious matters in the world? The banana battle is only getting started, but will take years to solve. You’ll see."

Ruud knew the drill, and it only took like nearly 20 years to sort this shit out per here and a more detailed breakdown here.

German Karl Kurt Köttelwesch (aka K-Kube) dropped a pearl on all when he talked about the optimum method monkeys use to peel a banana, one which many humans are not aware of. This video shows it ain’t rocket science, Corky. Look and learn. If you really are fascinated by this then you can also check out this WikiHow covering the eight methods to peel one, and wow foe and friend alike with deep MacGyver-like insight. 


The US-EU spat t wasn’t the only banana battle it seems. The Velvet Underground had Andy Warhol’s famed banana design on the cover of their 1967 debut album with Nico. A lawsuit erupted in 2012 and took 18 months to settle per here and here. It was good to see that as the trade banana dispute was winding down, there was another banana themed dispute to take its place. Maybe that was by "design," pardon the pun. 


If setting bananas straight took so long, is anybody surprised we can’t resolve more complicated world matters like peace in the Middle Crease, pretending that climate change ain’t happening,  and increasing global inequality. Go figure. We’ll all be waiting a very long friggin’ time to deal with everything else.  Either that, or the powers that be steering the ship just want it that way. Cuz , like, when it’s "heads I win, tails you lose," they can play that game all day long and always come out ahead.

Perhaps it makes as much sense as this little ditty, as taken from Despicable Me 2, featuring The Minions, and their take on the Beach Boys song Barbara Ann.


For those with an ever-inquisitive mind and dying to know what language this is, here’s a link to some background on Minionese, and some more on the specific lyrics.

Then, there are these banana commercials, ranging from a 1940s classic through to ones from modern day Japan and Australia.


N.B. Somebody who penned a novel and utilized "chikita banana" as a reference for a woman (making his female editor’s skin crawl every time it came up) may have been inspired by this vintage ad.  Or maybe it was just pure coink-e-dink.



 

 

The fellas also gotta like these topical banana-based words of wisdom. So true, but it kinda makes me wonder about what the preceding 391 rules are. 

                                          Source: QuickLol

Chikita bananas, on the other hand, can get away with THAT all day long, and the world comes to a stop.


Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s all about the fruit, Bobbolin(o/a), and proper technique. Truth be told, most guys will not  be bothering to correct them on their peeling technique as Karl Kurt pointed out above. As the Pink Floyd Dole ad above declared, "if you feel it, peel it." Bob sure digs the double entendre going on with that tagline.

After all of the above. know that bananas be bidni$$ too, and now that the trade tiff  has been settled, consolidation is in the air, as evidenced here by the attempted acquisition action going down between Chiquita, Fyffes and some Brazilians in Cutrale and the Safra Group wading into the fray of late. Maybe the Brazzies are pissed cuz of their showing at the World Cup. In the end, they may all still figure out a way to get cozy together and mix $$$ with bananas and oranges. 


Bob be diggin’ deep, to bring you the skinny on matters of consequence in our world, when he ain’t busy as some single prat traveling the world attending weddings.



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