Back from a week on the east coast, and a wedding in the beautiful San Juan Islands. The week back home was a week back home, killed a dog, don't want to visit again, that sort of thing. Didn't score at the wedding. I was sharing a room with the very nice, well-spoken gay minister, and that combined with my blonde hair led the ladies to conclude I was a disco-dancing cake boy. Such is life, they were all skanks anyway. Or taken. Whatever. Interesting note about the wedding: everyone from the groom's side who made a toast or speech commented on what a self-centered prick the groom is. I always thought he was an okay guy. Another funny part: the father of the groom, during his interminable toast, likened the groom's bachelorhood to being a cab driver. Drive along, night after night, out of service, not picking up any fares, until one day, one decides one is ready, and turns on the in-service light, and picks up the first fare that comes along. And marries her. I thought that was a little cruel. If I ever get married, I'm vetting remarks.