I'm attending a wedding on Saturday, the first of three this summer.

I cannot wait until the funerals I attend in a year outnumber the weddings.

I don't wish to attend more funerals, but I've never felt like my presence at a funeral was a courtesy to the departed.

Moreover, I've never been pressured into catching a garter belt at a funeral.

"Come on, Jon! Don't be a buzzkill! Join the pit of losers in the spotlight!"

Nowadays, if I dream while I sleep, the dream is undoubtedly a nightmare.

I had one recently in which I was prepared to finally pass Biology and then couldn't answer a single question on the Biology final, which was published by Sports Illustrated.

Note that I finished school in 2004 and last took a science class in 2000.

I pleaded with my high school Biology teacher to let me pass Biology anyway, but she said that I'd have to re-take Biology for a third time, and that Biology wouldn't be offered again for another year, at which point I freaked and fled through surreality in a sequence similar to the subcon chase in Being John Malkovich.

And then I woke up.

"Did I just have a nightmare about Biology class?" I thought. "The fuck?"

Of all subjects, I hated and sucked at Chemistry the most.

I tolerated and passed Biology fine, both Honors and AP — two years of Biology! Heck, I received a 4 on my AP Bio exam!

Hmmph.

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