I am a walking Frasier joke

You know, in retrospect, the most telling experience from this whole wild weekend past was nothing related to weddings, or hilariously sad and simultaneously amusing dancing (and I use that term incredibly loosely) in my basement. Nor, even the fact said house shenanigans involved 83% males. 

No, the experience in hindsight which gave me most reason for introspection was when me and Irene were running around squabbling over a box of Perrier (a match of wits in which I can proudly claim victory; though, rest assured, I will take only a pirates share. The rest will be waiting here for you.)

In my deepest thoughts, I realized that this was a microcosm of my being. Chasing around French Fizzy like a (well-dressed) crack addict.

Awesome.