Two very brilliant and glamorous people who actually liked some of this blog asked me to come to their wedding in London and meet them and disrupt their nuptials and wreck their memories by taking awful, incompetent photos of the entire affair. The decision hinged on two values:
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X = How much I like meeting people, flying, adventures, novelty, the UK, these individuals (above all), and escape from ordinary life
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Y = How bad I’ll feel when I disappoint them and drop my camera as the bride says “I do,” the loud clatter obscuring her words and provoking a liturgical dilemma and general confusion which will coalesce into hostility towards me -the smallest, stupidest, most superficial person in this party, I can already tell- right as I realize that I broke the only damn camera I have and the SD card, too, although at least said card will not precisely be overflowing with great shots, since I don’t know what I’m doing.
My narcissistic mathematical model somehow resulted, after significant tinkering, in X being slightly larger than Y, so I’m headed to London for a short while. Please keep your collective eyes on Will; I worry he’ll do something crazy while I’m gone, like shave. I’ll return once I’ve ruined some wedding dreams!
(They won’t be the last ones, either).
