Two weeks, two Sunday night posts that start with "I'm tired"-related whining. But, hell, I'm tired.

My nicknameless friend Duvy (I guess that's a nickname, but he whined at some point last month about not having one; I'm taking suggestions, and I think "Dirtbag" is a viable one) got married on Saturday. It was fantastic. A major recording artist performed at the outset, there was a word scramble before the ceremony, and the house lights went down at one point for an in-ceremony slideshow. Truly, an arena-worthy performance. The pastor also declared, "Duvy, I love your eyes," which was uncomfortable, yet enlightening.

And yet the highlight of the weekend comes at the reception, as that's where highlights tend to come.

[Warning: I'll probably come across like a jerk here. I swear, I'm not a jerk. Gosh.]

You see, there's a mutual former coworker, who shall remain nameless. Nice enough girl, but boring. More importantly, socially inept. Most importantly, very negative. Most most importantly, sucks the fun out of every situation ever. Most most most importantly, has far lower standards for "great friend" than most. (I consider the term "great friend" to mean things like "mutual," and "interested in the other's life," and "occasionally in some sort of actual contact;" I believe her definition is closer to "breathing" and "once talked to me.")

In December, when I was making my final departures, I met this former coworker and another for lunch. She had left the staff in August, so this was our first communication since then. We were both in town, and it was convenient-ish. I mentioned Dirtbag's (we'll try it out here) pending wedding while playing the "So what's [name] been up to?" game.

Flash forward to, say, late-January. Dirtbag gets a phone call, chooses to ignore it. "Hey, this is [former coworker]. I hope everything's going well. I know you're getting married in April, and just wanted to say that I'm really looking forward to it. Give me a call!"

At this point, I took a page from Derek Bell and declared a personal Operation Shutdown with regard to this situation. I would stymie any further communication out of a) Fear of revealing the wedding date, therefore opening the door for an appearance, and b) Lack of interest in further communication anyway. "No pity phone calls anymore," I declared. [And, again, this is coming from someone - me - with approximately two friends. So to drop a potential one is a pretty big step.]

Flash forward to the end of January. Duvy gets an email:
I was just wondering about the date of your wedding. My schedule is starting to seriously fill up for April, but your wedding is definitely tops on the list, what weekend is it going to be?

He chooses Operation Shutdown.

Flash forward to, say, mid-February. Duvy gets an uncomfortable Valentine's Day email. A mass "Wanted to say hello to my friends on Valentine's Day" email. Harmless, but weird, mostly because of the people included on the list. Thankfully, I was not included and, thankfully, it was forwarded to me, with message contents "Are you kidding me?" He chooses Operation Shutdown.

Flash forward to, say, later-February. I get an email. "Blah blah blah. I'm really looking forward to baseball season getting started and to going to Duvy's wedding in April." I choose Operation Shutdown.

Flash forward to, well, mid-March. Duvy gets an email. Not a phone call, but a less-avoidable or forget to respond-able [maybe?] email. A second email. "I just wanted to say that I'm really excited to come to your wedding." [Sadly, I did not get this one forwarded to me; I got the immediate, incredulous phone call instead.]

What to do? Can one continue to ignore? By ignoring her, would he be leading her on? I had previously counseled Operation Shutdown for Duvy but, when it became apparent that she wasn't going away, he did the tactful thing and responded. "My future mother-in-law had 200 people she wanted invited, and my mom had 150 she wanted invited, and we've only got room for 250, so even some relatives of mine didn't get invited. I'm really sorry."

According to Duvy, her response was understanding.

So, now, the long-awaited payoff.

At 8:45 on Saturday night, despite not being invited, and despite not talking to anybody who was invited, she entered the banquet hall, placed a gift on the appropriate table, and begin to mingle. Yes, she showed up. Again, she was never invited, and was explicitly told that she was not invited. And yet, an arrival [in her defense, an after-dinner arrival]. So, at 8:52, anybody with whom she had ever had contact started to make excuses to get away (i.e., lots of restroom stops and trips to the bar). By 9:02, she was alone at the mingling table, and those that had abandoned ship had reconvened at the bar. At 9:09, Duvy's beautiful and piercing eyes gave the most intense look I've ever seen. I believe he said, through clenched teeth, "Can you believe that?" Then we shook our heads, and proceeded to execute Operation Shutdown the rest of the way. It was sort of successful.

The question becomes: How could she have even found out the date? Wedding announcements in the paper? Is there anyone she could have spoken to? (Not the beat writers; please, not the beat writers.) Amazing.

She's probably just read this as well. Sigh. "Close friend" lost, perhaps.

On the bright side, it's given Duvy and me a topic of conversation that will be eternally interesting and mind-boggling. He's a pretty good dude.

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I'm not a callous or mean person, I don't think, but I just absolutely couldn't believe it. Still can't. Won't ever. Probably, though, I won't think about it after tomorrow. Derek Bell's awesome.

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Remember, it's only one week of the season. Just one week, so don't lose your head. But, let's be honest, 4-1 is a lot better than we expected. A sweep of the Cardinals was unfathomable. An effective Maddux on Friday, some clutch-Barretting on Saturday, and a more-clutch Jacque Jones donger combined with Isringhausen pulling an Ankiel tonight? Nemo's already set his World Series ticket price point. It's five digits, and maybe greater than his annual income. I'll just watch Joe and Tim, I think, while it's snowing in Northern Michigan.

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My high school senior year-like goodbye tour's been pretty good. Gurs and Mike on Friday, the Quad crew on Saturday, Coach tonight, DBN lunch Monday, fellow former radio guy at the ballpark Monday night, another dinner Tuesday, Wej and Jenny at Wrigley on Thursday afternoon, and the granparents next Sunday. Pretty effective tour, I think.

Once Friday hits, it's two days of packing. Maybe I'll try to catch the Silver Jews show, although it is sold out. I don't know if I'll go to the trouble of heading down there to find an extra. I think I should, because DCBerman is the greatest.