my jaundiced eye

the absurdities of life

Category: all about me

the really royal wedding

the real royal wedding

The following is taken almost verbatim  (with a bit of well deserved MJE embellishment) from the actual wedding website of a member of  the OB&C’s family.  To be crystal clear, not one of my kinfolk. The names have been changed to protect the profoundly narcissistic.  I chose not to include the “entourage” section with head shots of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, brief bios and their deeply personal histories with the bridal couple. And sadly I could not include the “gallery” of selfies of the lovely couple taken during their jaunts around the globe. Major landmarks are helpfully included in the background of each photo to ensure that unsophisticated viewers don’t miss the sheer fabulousness of their exotic, exclusive and obviously expensive, destinations.

welcome to our wedding website!

We can’t wait to share our super special day with all of you. The north carolina mountains are one of our most favorite places in the world. We have traveled just about everywhere that anyone would want to go, as you know from our facebook posts, but we are thrilled to get to show you all a glimpse into our most happy place. Who knows, it may even become your very own happy place too! If it does, I am a licensed realtor and would be super excited to help you find the perfect property. Well, after our awesome over the top extended honeymoon in bali that is! If you have additional questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us. If they are real estate related, my business contact info is below.

our story

Queen-e and gorgeous george met at a second tier college in january 2011 on the dance floor at a phi delt party during queen-e’s freshman year and gorgeous george’s senior year. They hit it off that night, and george got her “number” and a couple of days later, he called queen-e to ask her out to a date party. He continued to see her that semester, riding the campus hookuphickle to visit her at the freshman commons. Her friends were super impressed that she was dating a senior and his friends were super impressed that he was “dating” a freshman. A match made in heaven for all.

the never ending wedding events!  

 bridesmaids’ brunch      thursday  at 11:00am in the holler off buck belch road

Gal’s only! You boys get out on the links!

bbq and bluegrass       thursday at 7:00pm   by the “lake”

Bring your clogging shoes and growly tummies over to the lake where the banjos and fiddles will be whippin’ up some old timey mountain music. Don’t worry about any dueling banjos deliverance stuff here, everyone in this neck of the woods is from ponte vidra or buckhead.

welcome party         friday at 9:00pm  the ugly mutt saloon

We feel bad for all of you who didn’t get invited to the rehearsal dinner so we’re don’ this to cheer you up! Like you don’t feel special enough just to be included in this super great event! But we want to just make sure, so we’re havin’ a party just for you b-teamers at the ugly mutt. We’ll have even more of that good ole bluegrass music for you to enjoy washed down with some locally brewed artisanal beer or if you’re up to it some real honest to goodness moonshine. But be careful, remember this is a marathon not a sprint.  Think rush week!

pre-ceremony welcome      saturday  5:00pm at the farmstead

Yep, another welcome party! This is to get you pre-lubed for the night ahead! Again, think rush week, slow and steady gets the pledge card! FYI girls, flats or wedges! Leave those jmmy choo’s at home cause the incredibly picturesque farmstead is all about manicured lawns and gardens and of course a barn that martha stewart would die for. And boys, black tie is optional but preferred, this is a class act.

the ceremony      saturday  5:30-6:00 pm at the farmstead

The big event! Needless to say, my dress is the best ever. But do pay extra special attention to the exquisite vintage bruges lace detail on my train and the native wildflower garland in my hair, picked that morning by my beloved.

cocktail hour   6:00-7:00pm

The bar is open!

dinner and dancing    7:00-11:00pm

You got it, more bluegrass but with enough muscle shoals thrown in to get you up and shakin’ your money makers. We’ll be switching out bbq for a prime rib carving station, sushi and lobster rolls. But we’ll also have vegetarian options, and for those of you who are doing the whole30, relax we made sure you’re totally covered!

The evening will end with personally curated fireworks as we are whisked off in a quaint horse drawn carriage! Hands up gals to catch the bouquet!

We love you guys….so please be safe getting back to wherever you are staying. Be mindful of the presence of local law enforcement (and they are everywhere) as you try to drive on the winding pitch-black mountain roads after the past three days of unbridled bacchanalia. Good luck. Really. We mean it.

p.s. My dad’s a lawyer and our liability ends at 11:00pm.

And thanks for sharing our super special wedding weekend!

Advertisements

spire!

spire!

Some time ago MJE wrote about the Fitbit, which I then thought was the plus non ultra in full frontal digital narcissism. In that same post I predicted the probable invention of a gadget that would document and regulate a number of bodily functions. It did not occur to MJE that there might be a market for a device that measures not your colonic progress but the dryer lint of your brain. MJE grossly underestimated several things: the astronomical levels of self absorption, the dim intellectual wattage of the populace and the speed with which some huckster could exploit both. Folks the future is now.

Meet “Spire!” The Wall Street Journal (a publication I rarely read because it doesn’t reinforce my world view) reported on a new device called, “Spire!.” which advertises itself as “your personal mindfulness coach.” It promises to reduce your stress by 50% via “smart notifications and gentle reminders.” Personally, MJE finds that mindless activities are the best stress reducers around, but that’s just me.

“Spire!” clips onto your bra or jock strap and monitors your breathing which is, according to the“Spire!”-land marketing department, a better indicator of your cerebral wellbeing than a brain scan. It is “backed by seven years of research.” So what, the OB&C has been “researching” a magnetic bead technology for 11 years and it still doesn’t work worth a crap.

“Spire coaches you to a more calm, balanced state of mind. It tracks and improves your state of mind by allowing you to discover when you’re stressed, where it happens, and what you were doing.” Yeah, well booze and xanax do that too and I can guarantee you that I don’t need any gentle reminders for those.

The online accolades from “Simone,” “Michael” and “Hilary” are so effusive that you want to cyber stalk them and make their lives really miserable. Then we’ll see just how effective “Spire!” really is.

thanks loads

thanks loads

Well the holly, jolly frantic materialism of xmas is over until next month when it will slowly start to creep back in. I gave the OB&C a pasta maker and a “no oil fryer” both of which are still in boxes under my desk. Well, more accurately I gave them to myself and he was a pass through so I could feel self satisfied about my thoughtfulness and generosity. The OB&C doesn’t suffer such pangs of self doubt and so isn’t hypocritical enough to go to the transparently selfish trouble of getting me gifts. We’ve been married long enough for him to know that if I want something I will have long since beaten him to the punch before he ever picks up on any hints I might drop. And really, that whole charade is such a waste of time. My motto is: Decide what you want, get it, don’t ever use it, re-gift it and move on.

Apropos the business of the giving and the getting I was reading an article in that commie rag, the New York Times this Sunday about how the mere thought of being appreciative has become the latest means of spiritual masturbation. In the alternative universe of the truly narcissistic, simply thinking of being thankful, whether you express it or not is plenty good enough. Apparently, keeping a journal of your thoughts of appreciation is also a tonic for the self-absorbed soul. The heavy lifting of actually outwardly expressing your appreciation for something is totally unnecessary, just pondering it is sufficient. Making the effort to grunt out an actual thank you every once in a while or god forbid writing a thank you note simply demonstrates how incredibly insecure you are. Loser.

Well in the spirit of self-congratulation on her mindful appreciation MJE says, thanks for nothing.

remembering names?

remembering_names_10_14_14__pic-1

I just read my daily email from Luminosity, a “brain training” outfit that promises to get your mind to do what it hasn’t done in years: think. They apparently are of the opinion that I am one blank stare from the alzheimer’s wing or they wouldn’t hound me every morning. Alternately it could be that they already know that I can’t remember doodlysquat from yesterday so every email is like my very first. One of their recent tips was on how to remember names. I frankly couldn’t identify my children in an airport, nor would I want to, but that’s a tale for another time. So Luminosity said that when you meet new people you should fixate on some characteristic and link that to their name, e.g. Leroy Pantyhose: really bad teeth. Vulgaria Otherwise: lousiest face lift ever!, Stanley Mattressthrasher: freakishly large nostrils. I got it. From now on I will be able to confidently extend my hand to any vaguely familiar acquaintance, match it up in my mind’s eye with my handy mnemonic of ‘aggressively unattractive.’ and cheerily chirp, “So great to see you again, “Lusitania” it’s been way too long!” you old crone.

step by step

step_by_step-1

 

It occurred to me that about 70% of the exercise I get in a day involves starting at point A, traveling to point B where I then am not able to remember why I needed to be at point B in the first place, so return to point A. I then retrace this path a couple of times before I recollect why I went anywhere at all and realize that where I really needed to go was point C. That, my friend, is called triangulation. While on the subject of exercise, you know those little rubber naval-gazer bracelets that track how many steps you take in a day and give you a virtual gold star when you reach the bracelet’s goal for you? Why stop there? What the world needs is a model that will monitor your every belch, fart, sneeze, hiccup, cough, and excretion and warn you when your performance is not optimal: “Warning! !That was the last fart for you today. Tighten up that sphincter, you foul smelling swine.” or “Alert! You are at only 63% of your recommended bowel movements for the week, Fiber up! Show some effort. Push harder, you unproductive anal retentive toad.”

Company motto: “We make you way better than you really are.”

clean living

mstibbs4

What exactly is so great about clean living? I don’t get it. I know a number of people who watch their diets, never touch liquor, exercise regularly and are front row and center at every Sunday sermon. Sounds like hell to me. They all “act” so very happy, like the people in commercials who have just discovered a new toilet bowl cleaner and can’t believe their good fortune. It’s not the kind of true happiness that’s a result of a long boozy lunch with a bunch of reprobate friends or eating a whole bag of cheese doodles watching Dr. Strangelove. Sure they’re all going to live to be 100, still running marathons when they’re 80, then spend the rest of their overly long lives in a nursing home, surrounded by droolers, due to the hip they broke at the finish line. I want to drop dead at a cocktail party.

 

i’m #1

I'm #1

Do you ever wonder where your life has gone? What have you accomplished in your short time on earth, done for your fellow man or given back to society? I don’t. Really, that’s heartbreak on a hot plate. And if you have devoted your life to the service of others, that’s great, but in all honesty, keep it to yourself. The rest of us just don’t want to hear it. I am willfully ignorant of as much of the bible as possible, but I do like the bit about “God helps them that helps themselves.” or something like that, If it’s good enough for Jesus or Abraham or whoever penned that bon mot, high five on that. Think about it, do you seriously believe anyone else on this planet cares as much about you as you do? Let’s cut this thought experiment short, the answer is no. So just like in the airplane safety lecture “Put your own oxygen mask on first…” and extrapolate that to everything else.

welcome to my madhouse

 

Just to clarify from the outset, this is really all about me. I suppose that is pretty evident when your blog platform is @narcicissm.com. However, I do plan to cover a broader range of topics other than myself, but do remember, I am the overarching theme.

Just to start, perhaps a bit of biographical background might be helpful. However, that’s sort of a problem, even if I change the names to protect the innocent. That said, as far as I am concerned there aren’t too damned many innocents lying around.

I was born in New Orleans into a household whose cast of characters even Tennessee Williams couldn’t conjure up. Six mismatched siblings under one roof ostensibly under the care of their parents whose interests, for the most part, did not involve child rearing. Cliché alert! The household retainers did the heavy lifting.

I am going to stop before I launch into a re-write of the Help, which frankly I couldn’t even read and gave it to my daughter in law for Christmas. It now has a place of pride along side their other two books, “What a Dog” a biography of UGA, the University of Georgia mascot, and a copy of Roget’s Thesaurus.

But I digress. Things were smooth for a while in our little lunatic asylum, relatively speaking. There was the time my father’s collection of snakes escaped from the cage in the backyard, which caused a stir, and when the neighbors’ gibbon brachiated onto a power line and knocked out the lights for almost a whole day. And of course, my older brothers’ proclivity for public drunkedness and subsequent incarceration was an ongoing irritant. But don’t these things happen in every family if you look closely enough.

Now I inhabit my on madhouse, come on in.