Toasts and the O-town and weirdness

I wish I didn’t suck at expressing myself. I’m now apparently going to O-town for to set off dee soosh bombasticos with Christo but I feel like things are surrounded by oddness. It is my own fault. I have got to get some social practice going here, I really really want to be better. If I were to make a “to do” list, it would be topped with “Stop sucking,” underneath which would be the bullet points “ASAP” and “I mean it.”

Anyway, we’re all anxiously working on our toasts, and I have warned sternly: no one else had better start with, “You’re probably wondering why I called you all here. Somebody in this room…is the murderer!” because that is what I am going to do. Best. Wedding toast. Ever.

I am not the only one confounded by these situations and, harkening back a bit, by eggs to boot.

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