Lord of the Rings
3/23/07

I assure you I hate publicity stunts as much as the next guy. And, as a close personal friend of “the next guy”, I can also assure you there isn’t much he hates more than publicity stunts. But, as a closer personal friend of mine, I am asking you, loyal reader, to overlook this rare e-sell-out, and help me wish Kristen a big happy 26th trip around the sun.

In honor of the birthday girl, who will complete her quarter century + 1 orbit officially tomorrow (3/24) I invite you all to post your personal birthday wishes in the comments section provided below. (You may know it better as the big empty space most of you have ignored for the past ten months). Extra points will be rewarded for those of you who surpass the cliché “happy bday” remark. In fact, I’m willing to offer a substantial prize to the “commenter” who submits the most original entry. Mark my words, the winner shall be rewarded with a very important role to fulfill come Wedding Day. While I don’t want to give away the whole kit & kaboodle, I can tell you that the lucky winner has the possibility of playing the role of minister, D.J. and/or groom, should I be unable to attend.

(Sidebar #32407: As much as I am honored that I have been invited by the Byrnes family to attend the festivities on 10/13/07, let’s be honest. With a historical payroll well into the neighborhood of $100 Million, and the fire-cracker, no-nonsense leadership of Lou Pinella, the North-siders have an above-average shot at the Series this fall, and as much as I love Kristen, hell, nor high-water, nor the American Club can come between a boy and his baseball.)

In honor of Mrs. Focker-to-be’s big day, I felt a blog update would appease both her and the throngs of daily followers who have once again experienced the thirst for my e-tangents. While the visit from the Bobs did not bring with it the pomp & circumstance one might expect from a visit to a florist and photographer, still many significant developments have transpired since we last “got our blog on.”

Probably of most important note is that our wedding rings have been ordered. That is, the piece of metal that will figuratively brand me for life as the property of Kristen Byrnes. While some might say that I “branded” her with an engagement ring back in May, I would argue the contrary. One simply cannot be branded with loan-required bling. To a girl, the engagement ring is most closely compared to the Ryne Sandberg homerun ball a guy was lucky enough to chorale from his seat amidst the drunken mobs of the left field bleachers. The same staple characteristics apply: he immediately shows it off to everyone he knows, in return everyone will ask him to tell and re-tell “the story,” after which all of his friends will overflow with jealousy and express to their significant others how badly they want one.

Though it is true that the market for men’s wedding rings is turning a bit more decorative than it was 20 years ago, for us “non-decorative” guys, the simply stated metal loop is more than adequate. In my opinion, if you don’t have a Grammy or a shoe deal, diamonds are best left for those who do.

That being said, I was pleased to learn that today’s metal loop is “not your father’s wedding ring.” For example, I was instantly sold on my wedding ring when I learned that the metal it was cast from was called “Tungsten Carbine.” Despite having an unarguably bitchin’ name, this metal is scratch-proof, dent-proof, and has a melting point of 10,832 degrees Fahrenheit! And if you’re not salivating yet, Tungsten Carbide is also used by the United States Military in armor-piercing ammunition, when depleted uranium is not available or not politically acceptable. And, according to Wikipedia.com (slogan: “We make the average blogger sound like a genius.”) it was first used during WWII to destroy Soviet T-34 tanks.

In other words, MY RING HELPED TAKE DOWN RUSSIA IN WORLD WAR II!!! After hearing this sales pitch, I believe my exact words were, “Giddy up!”

(Sidebar #32408: For those of you concerned about my ability to pass through airport security with such a powerful material strapped around my finger, there is no need to fret. I have been assured by the Department of Homeland Security that such metals are approved for travel, being that they are stored in a clear, 3-ounce Ziploc bag.)

(Sidebar #32409: Before I forget, I’m sure Kristen would want me to mention her ring as well. It is very beautiful. It’s got some diamonds and stuff on it. But I’m pretty sure it never saw combat.)

A few weeks ago we also got our first taste of the Wedding Invitation Industry. This $42 Billion-a-year industry is in the business of depleting the rain forest and charging us for it. I have always found the wedding invitation a fascinating display of excessiveness. If you’ve ever opened a wedding invitation you are probably already aware of the following rules:

1) The number of envelopes contained inside of one wedding invitation is directly proportional to the amount of vowels in the bride’s last name. Luckily, “Byrnes” allots for only 1 (sometimes 2) envelopes, but this rule spells disaster for my fellow betrothed co-worker Michelle Lucarelli.

2) Tissue paper: It’s not just for shoeboxes anymore.

3) It is not mandatory to include an actual invitation. With the response card, driving directions, accommodation information, and organ donor card, sometimes there just isn’t room for anything else.

4) All dates, times, years and other numerical characters must be spelled out in their entirety. This practice was originally employed during the Victorian Era, and was used to weed out any unwanted illiterates from free-loading off of the King’s royal wedding feast.

I am personally making it a point to violate as many of these rules as possible. It is my intention to save the rainforest (and the free-loaders).
I have also been given various other “hard to screw up” planning responsibilities in regards to what Kristen continues to tell me is “our” day. The most exhilarating of which has been planning the honeymoon. My approach to this adventure was one of open mind and open pocket book, though, true to form, I possess neither.

Yet I found myself faced with the age-old question, “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” For a people like me and Kristen, who call the greater tri-state area “home,” and 62 degrees “shorts weather”, a truly exotic trip meant something international and preferably a little bit further up the mercury level.

Sure Hawaii is popular and a Carribean cruise is common, but I wanted our honeymoon to truly define our relationship. Popular and common would not suffice. You are more likely to find Kristen & me frolicking among the “bizarre and unexpected”. It had to be a place a million miles from Middle America; a place equally foreign to the both of us. A place known for the three pillars that Kristen and I have built this relationship on: history, hard work, and an excessive use of olive oil.

As soon as this blog attracts 26 birthday wishes for the birthday girl… I’ll continue my story.