There’s No Good Way To Enter A Wedding Reception

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Your letters:


I’m a groomsman in 3 weddings this year. I feel like I’ve found the resources I need to write the best man speech for 1 of them, but am dreading those fucking wedding party intros. I searched for 3.5 seconds and was overwhelmed by cringey videos and cringey advice. I hate dancing and forced choreography. I think it might help to come into each of them with a plan.


Don’t bother. First of all, if the bride and groom have a Chris Brown dance routine in mind for all of you, you have to obey the edict. You can’t just ignore them and start vogue-ing instead because you think that’s a better idea. The bride will stab you with a cake knife.

If there’s no set entrance routine (and you better hope there isn’t), then I would just do the standard, awkward half-strut, half-boogie that is the go-to entrance move of every single groomsman who already has three cocktails in him. That’s the move that says, “Oh yeah… let’s ROCK this reception.” You own that damn ballroom, amigo. It lets people know you’re being festive, without being annoyingly conspicuous. Your only plan is to drink and have a good time.

Remember: it’s a wedding, so no one is paying much attention to you anyway. They’re all looking at the bridesmaids to evaluate the dresses and speculate which bridesmaids will hook up with which groomsman. (SPOILER: not you.) So long as you blend into the scenery, no one will give a shit. Everyone’s waiting for the bride and groom to come busting into the room anyway, Kool Aid Man-style. THERE THEY ARE! OH MY GOD IT’S THAT COUPLE I READ ABOUT ON THE INVITATION! SHE’S MISSUS FLORKHUT NOW!

As a rule for weddings, and life in general, you should never be afraid to look fucking stupid. There’s so much stuff that guys deliberately skip out on just because they don’t want to look dumb: dancing, singing, giving a speech, etc. You can spend your whole life standing on the side of the dance floor with your arms crossed, and then die having done nothing. It’s worth the risk of ridicule to get out there and make an ass of yourself. Not a TOTAL ass, mind you. You don’t have to do a helicopter spin on the floor or anything. Just accept that you’re not always gonna look like James Bond at all times (take it from me). Most of the time, you’ll look endearing for making the effort. And if some dickhead actively decides to shun you for entering a wedding the “wrong” way, well then THEY’RE the asshole, not you.*

By the way, I think it’s unfair that the wedding bandleader gets to introduce the wedding party. That’s a cool job that’s usurped by a total stranger who inevitably sounds like a strip club DJ. Let the best man do that shit. When else in life will you get to be like Ray Clay and be a formal hype man? “And at groom, 234 pounds… from NORTH Caro-LI-na!... Mick Fartwell!” That’s a fun job.

(*Sometimes it IS fun to be the guy who isn’t in the wedding party and casually strolls into the reception with a drink your hand. I like to pretend everyone subtly noticed me walk in, even though they didn’t. Who is that smooth, charming fellow who walked into the room so discreetly? I bet he’s very classy.)



What do you think is the best way to cook eggs?

Sunny side up. The only reason I prefer sunny side up eggs to scrambled eggs is because when you scramble eggs, they magically reduce in size by 60%. For real, two scrambled eggs makes, like, six bites. It’s infuriating. I need to start scrambling ostrich eggs.


What I like is two or three sunny side up eggs that bleed yolk all over my goddamn toast. Then I lick the plate like a pig. If you like eggs sunny side up but fear they’ll come out undercooked, with a glop of egg snot sitting around the yolk, I got a LIFEHACK for you. Just crack your eggs in the skillet and then, if the skillet has no lid, lay a sheet of tin foil over the top. That cooks the top of the egg while the bottom fries up nice and crisp. PRESTO. You are the egg man. You are the walrus.

Anyway, we’re all gonna get into a fight now about eggs, but here is my personal ranking for their preparation:

1. Sunny side up

2. Scrambled

3. Poached (so long as it’s with all the Eggs Benedict accoutrements)

4. Over easy

5. Soft boiled

6. Omelet

7. Hard boiled

8. Coddled? (I’ve never had a coddled egg but they look okay)

9. Baked/quiche

10. Over hard

I got omelets further down on this list than you probably do, because every sane person likes a good omelet. I’m just saying that plain scrambled eggs tend to be softer and fluffier than the eggs in an omelet. Nothing beats ruining an omelet and then crying out, “IT’S A SCRAMBLE.” You just accidentally improved the omelet. Quite the serendipitous turn of events.



If you have a book on loan from a friend is it okay to read it while taking a shit? What about if it’s a library book?


That’s fine. It’s a “don’t ask, don’t tell” kind of thing. Besides, it’s not like every time you go to take shit, you pick the turd up in your hand and go wiping the walls with it. It IS possible to bring a book into a bathroom and be sanitary about it. You sit down, you read, you poop, then you place the book down on a sill while you finish up and then wash your hands. There you go.

If there’s a stack of magazines next to a toilet, I don’t sit there freaking out about fecal matter gluing the pages together. I pick one up and get right into Jennifer Aniston’s quest to bear children.



If the Hard Knocks crew secretly captured footage of a defense legitimately planning an off-field assassination of a top star like Tom Brady that was eventually successful, do you think they’d burn the footage, give it Roger Goodell so he could do some hammering, or hype the hell out of the season with it?


Oh, they’d air the footage. Given what Goodell just said about Laremy Tunsil getting hacked in real time on draft night, he’s not above using a macabre spectacle for the sake of entertaining the masses. (The sport of football itself qualifies here as well.) So, here is what I think Goodell would do.

1. Seize the tape.

2. Give the tape to the FBI and suspend the players and coaches (Gregg Williams) involved immediately, then issue terse but vague statement condemning them. THE NFL DOES NOT CONDONE WHATEVER IT IS THAT JUST HAPPENED.


3. Watch the players get arrested and the charges leaked to a horrified public.

4. Leak to Schefter that the league office DOES have the tape and will air it at a time when it is legally appropriate.


5. Air that shit during the Hard Knocks finale, like that Robert Durst show did.

6. Send a personalized letter to all the conspirators, telling them they have disgraced the shield.


7. Let Schefter marvel at the press coverage. “NFL is still king, folks!”

8. Wells Report III/.

I assure you that if there’s a way to exploit ugliness while simultaneously distancing yourself from it, Roger Goodell will find it. He’s mastered the process.



The other week my girlfriend and I were watching The Wizard of Oz and we got bored and started having sex. Which movie in history do you think has had the most people have sex during? I think Oz is up there, just because it’s so old, but my number one guess is Grease.


Well I commend you for being able to maintain an erection with the Wicked Witch cackling in the background, because she scares me to death and I would have to abandon the coitus to go hide under a blanket.

Anyway, my guess would be any movie that’s extremely popular on DVD without being a mood-killer. Take it from someone who lost out on a hookup because the movie in question was Dead Man Walking (OOOOOOOPS), lighter fare tends to spur more hanky-panky. That means shit like Anchorman, Austin Powers, The Fast & The Furious, Pretty Woman, etc. Those are movies that you put on because you’ve seen them a zillion times and you already know that you aren’t going to watch the whole thing. You can sit there for twenty minutes, pretending to give a shit, and then make your move. If you have a date over to Netflix and chill, NEVER watch anything new. Ever. You don’t wanna be blindsided by a surprise puppy-killing sequence. And don’t put on SERIOUS erotica like Unfaithful or something. That’s way too transparent.


By the way, my guess is that the #1 sex movie is Dirty Dancing. It was hugely popular, sexy-yet-chaste, AND I’m sure any number of guys in the 80s and 90s would toss it in the VCR as a tradeoff deal. “Sure, we can watch Dirty Dancing. But then there’s sex, right? Shake on it.”


Imagine that an average man gets the ability to foul off every single pitch thrown his way (within reason, he has to be able to actually reach it and everything). In every other way, this is a common oaf. He would play the field, run the bases, etc. as well as you and me. What kind of contract would he get in the MLB?


So, wait, would every at-bat result in a walk? He just fouls off good pitches until gets four balls? Well then you’re talking about an invaluable commodity. I’d pay $30 million for a guy who reached base on every at-bat. That’s the perfect baseball player.

Of course, he’d only last in the majors for four weeks before fans decided, en masse, to stab him to death. Do you know how annoying it is to watch some dickhead foul off a dozen straight pitches? I’d kill him myself. Rob Manfred would have him buried in concrete after seeing the ratings sheet for a five-hour Tigers game.



How many consecutive winless seasons would it take for the New York Yankees to fold up shop? I imagine the revenue stream would dry up pretty completely after a few seasons of 0-162 novelty. Obviously they couldn’t keep it up forever. I’d say 15.


No way. That would be the most compelling dumpster fire in modern history. Do you know how much I’d pay to go see the Yankees lose their 1,390th straight game? At least twelve dollars. I’d buy my Stubhub ticket, get loaded, waltz into the stadium during the sixth inning, and then laugh my ass off. It would be the most extraordinary thing in sports history.

A storied franchise like the Yankees is so deeply entrenched in its hometown that you can NEVER kill it. As long as New York City exists, the Yankees will exist. Consider the Redskins, who have been warm puke for over two decades under Dan Snyder—a man who has done virtually everything to alienate fans and sabotage the team’s success—and STILL people turn out in droves. Once you put down roots in a city and win a few titles, the city is yours. You are given an endless amount of room to fuck up after that, no matter how much fans may complain. The Skins went 9-7 a year ago and that was enough to make the town obsessed all over again. That’s how easy it is to keep the scam going.


One of the beauties of owning a pro sports team is that you are always gifted with the advantage of an uncertain future. Fans will turn out for a team that sucks because there’s always a chance that the team will NOT suck, and fans wanna be there when it happens, if only to brag about their loyalty. So you can string people along forever and ever as long as the future remains unknowable. And it always will. BIG CRYSTAL BALL will never get its act together.



When do seconds become leftovers? I say when the food is transitioned to the fridge (or sealed up if the fridge isn’t necessary), but my friend says you have to wait a full day. If I had pizza for lunch but fridged it, I had cold leftover pizza for dinner, right?


You did. Once the food is refrigerated or moved from its original serving dish to a storage container, it’s leftovers. Your opportunity to continue the meal is over, especially if all the plates have been cleared from the table and you gotta get a whole new plate and fork and seat for this round of eating. Once you pop the Tupperware lid, you have started a new meal, or midnight snack, or manic eating binge. It doesn’t matter if it’s an hour later or 24 hours later. NEW MEAL.

This is why cookouts are wonderful, because you turn the grill on at noon or whatever, and keep pumping out burgers and chicken and dogs for eight continuous hours, and it’s ALL one meal. It transcends the boundaries of mere lunch and dinner and snacking to become a daylong orgy of gluttony, with seconds becoming thirds, and thirds become fourth-and-a-halfs, and fifths becoming firsts because it’s been five hours since you started eating bratwurst. I am in favor of all open spreads.


By the way, I have been known to sabotage the next night’s meal by digging into the leftovers well before I’m supposed to. Let’s say we make ten pieces of chicken one night and eat five of them. That leaves five more for the next night. IN THEORY. In reality, I will go scrounging through the fridge the next morning, discover the booty, and RUIN the next night’s dinner plans. And I know it when I’m doing it, too. The shame is so thick you could dress a salad with it. And then I would eat that salad far too soon.


My wife and I live in New Zealand (I am originally from Kentucky and she is originally from Australia). Here in this part of the country we are pretty much inundated with seals and penguins to the point of boredom. While most people would freak when they saw a penguin, we kind of yawn and move along. It got me thinking, what animal would be the most extreme to get used to? We had a friend who lived in Zimbabwe and said giraffes were annoying. Or in Sri Lanka, elephants hold up traffic and people just accept it like a traffic light.


What about grizzly bears? There’s only one dude who got used to living with grizzly bears, and he didn’t fare so well. I would assume that living in close proximity to any man-eating predator—sharks, lions, polar bears, etc.—makes it hard for you to ever let your guard down. The famous Tiger Tops resort in Nepal features lodges that are built on stilts, because tigers roam the countryside and will break into your room at night and eat if you are sleeping at ground level. This… unnerves me. I don’t know if I could ever get used to sleeping underneath a streak* of hungry-ass tigers waiting for me to slip on a banana peel and fall off the balcony. No thank you.

Then again, you get used to anything if you’re around it long enough—war, guns, falling bombs, etc. You just pretend everything is fine until a fucking bear eats your friend Bob one day, and then you cope with Bob’s death by going back to pretending it won’t happen to you. Like, if aliens invaded, and then ten years passed, we’d probably all just roll our eyes when we’re talking to each other about the stupid Quargluxxians. So I guess you could build your dream house in the middle of Shark Island and learn to deal with it.


(*Another name for a group of tigers is “ambush,” which really says it all. Do not fuck with tigers.)


What if you could bank runs for future use in the season? Say the Twins beat the White Sox 10 to 1. The Twins can take 8 of those runs and apply them to a future game, so the score changes to 2-1 in favor of the Twins in that game. But now if the Twins lose to the Sox the next day or any other time in the season, they can add runs they have in their “bank” to the final score. Do you think we’d see a lot more blowouts for the sake of banking points?


Sure, but the more interesting thing that would happen is that, if this became a rule, your won-loss record would almost always closely correlate to your run or point differential. By now, we all know that point differential is a more accurate indicator of a team’s quality than their won-loss record. You can be a 10-6 NFL team, but everyone knows you’re a fucking fraud if you’re point differential is in the red. So if I’m running up the score on a bunch of teams and I can bank those points, I can reverse an otherwise close and fluky loss to some dipshit team later on, thus boosting my record.

By the way, I don’t favor this. It would essentially destroy the existence of upsets in sports and piss everyone off in the process. Sports are better with unfair outcomes, especially when it’s some asshole team like the Patriots losing a fluke game to some unworthy opponent. That’s the whole reason I watch.


Also, aggregate scoring sucks balls. It’s common practice in soccer. But here, in America, I like my games to be singular. Free-standing. I want to enjoy the contest on its own terms. I don’t wanna watch a football game where a team has to win by at least 21 in order to “win” some grander prize. That’s horseshit. Soccer needs aggregate scoring because teams don’t score enough. I SAY WE DOUBLE THE NET SIZE. Boom. You’re welcome, world.


You’re given the chance so that your children will never be fussy about food again (i.e. you can feed them blackberry chili to your heart’s content). All you have to do is disgracefully relinquish and disavow your victory on Chopped (for example: you’d say you coerced the panel to let you win, otherwise you would’ve poisoned them). Do you do it?


FUCK NO. You’ll have to threaten their lives before I falsely confess to bribing Chris Santos. That title is MINE. I won it fair and square, god dammit. I’ll give you my arm before I let you take it from me.


Is it wrong for me to illegally stream sports games from home? I don’t have cable and I don’t want to buy any sports packages. Generally I feel like with all the blackout rules and other garbage, I’m validated in not paying.


As a responsible adult, I’m supposed to tell you that it IS stealing, and that you should feel bad and all that. But fuck all that. I doubt you’re losing much sleep over circumventing Comcast and/or Mayweather Promotions to watch some sports for free.

The real reason to avoid pirating sports is far more practical and selfish, and that is because pirate feeds suck. They’re choppy and the resolution is usually lousy, and God only knows what kind of hideous malware is forcibly entering your system because you decided to watch the NFL via a Hungarian feed. This is why iTunes and Spotify became profitable enterprises: because it’s better to pay a little bit for something and have peace of mind about quality and security, than to pay nothing and be in constant danger of computer herpes. Cable and pay-per-view sports are still expensive, but I’d rather pony up or go watch that shit at a bar than risk having someone bust into my bank account and drink my milkshake.



Just once I want to see an inbounding player heave the ball into the dick of a defender over-aggressively guarding the inbound pass. I don’t mean a weak little chest pass, I mean reach way back with one hand like you’re going to gun it to the other baseline, but at the last second drop your trajectory 45 degrees so that you just wreck the dude’s nads.


This has happened! Not in the dick, but just last year a high school girls coach got in deep shit after he was accused of having a player deliberately launch an inbounds pass at an opponent’s face. You can watch the vid here. The girl got her nose broken. It will not shock you to learn that the coach was forced to take a leave of absence shortly thereafter.

Frankly, I’m surprised this sort of thing doesn’t happen more often. Do you know how annoying it is to have some pesky, wannabe gym rat in your face when you’re trying to get the ball inbounds? The little fucker. A quick pass to the dick might teach him some damn manners! Like, when Dion Waiters just straight-up pushed Manu Ginobili out of the way last week, and didn’t even get called for it? I totally sympathized. Nothing worse than when some asshole pretends he’s Rudy and actually tries to defend you. Not cool, man. Quit being so damn tenacious and let me pass the ball.



Do guys still wear toupees? I feel at this point guys either cut it all off, keep it short, or have a procedure done to try to bring it back. Is there a secret society of toupee wearing old guys still roaming around?


Have you met Stan Kroenke? Toupees are still going strong, amigo. You may not notice them as much as you did in years past because of new developments in hair transplantation, weaves, etc. But they’re still out there. Look at Sheldon Adelson, man. Look at this fucking wig. The man has a billion dollars and can’t even get proper micro-plugs. Given improvements in modern toupee design AND the fact that 1980s sitcoms greatly increased bad hairpiece awareness among the population at large, you’d think this guy could do better. But you can still find plenty of toupee holdouts if you look hard enough, especially among politicians and basketball coaches.


What happens if the Cubs turn into a relatively hot team and win three pennants over the next five years? The Cubs’ ENTIRE IDENTITY is that drought. They’re lovable, quixotic triers. Winning three championships in quick succession would destroy their loser-cred. How would that team and fan base manage the change?


They’d be fine. There’s not a fan on Earth that would willingly forgo a title just to keep up a pity streak. The only reason Cubs fans play it up is because that’s the hand they’ve been dealt, so you may as well milk it when you’ve got no titles to fall back on. But once you get a title, all that shit falls away. Or I would assume so. I’m a Vikings fan, so I wouldn’t know. SHELTER ME FROM THIS PAIN.

Email of the week!


When I was in college, we used to put on small concerts sponsored by the school and got one of our favorite funk/jazz trios to play one year. The keyboard player, call him M, a musical genius and legend in those circles, looked a little squeamish as soon as he arrived. We were told by the other band members that he had the shits real bad and we would have to delay the show. The crowd was getting restless and we knew we had to do something to pass the time.

Sure enough, one of my friends, the goofiest and most awkward guy I know, told us he had been working on a standup comedy routine. He goes out and bombs as hard as possible. The whole audience is booing lustily after about 60 seconds. That booing must have made it to the dressing room because it lights a fire under M. He gets himself together in a hurry and rushes out to stage.

The show was great and the crowd went home happy. The band pretty much went straight from the stage to their cars and we load them out as fast as possible. Later, as we’re cleaning up the dressing room, we smell it. Then we see it. Underwear completely covered with shit hanging on the lid of the waste bin. They never came back to play again.


Trying to rack my brain thinking of a famous jazz/funk trio keyboardist.

Drew Magary is a Deadspin columnist and columnist for GEN magazine. You can buy Drew's second novel, The Hike, through here.