Thursday, February 11, 2010

What. The. Fuck. Weddings.

Ok, so I've been planning my wedding for a week now - yeah, you heard me - MY wedding, and this mind-fuck of a project entails a tremendous amount of Internet research.

Which...how in the holy hell did people do ANYTHING before the Internet? Seriously, I cannot even begin to fathom what planning a wedding must have been like even just 10 years ago. 35mm film? NO THANK YOU. Actually picking up a phone book and calling caterers and florists and photographers and venues and DJs and rentals and AAAAAAAAAAHHH. You have got to be kidding me.

To those women who were married before the Internet, this is me giving you major props. And also, my wedding can kick your technologically inferior wedding's ass.

"The Guest List," oh dear lord, "The Guest List", the bride-to-be's 3 most hated and feared words just above "vaginal dryness" and "nobody has seen your groom", because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST it's difficult to think of every single person you know, used to know, might know in 5 months, know your parents, etc. The pressure not to forget a single person is immense! I am going to need an proof reader to make sure I didn't forget anyone super obvious, like MYSELF.

It turns out that The Guest List must be completed before the bride can do much of anything in the way of planning her wedding, because in order to get any sort of accurate quote for catering or chair covers or party favors or cake...YOU MUST KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE COMING. And prior to selecting a church, reception venue, hotel, rehearsal dinner, transportation...YOU MUST KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE COMING.

It's like you must know how many people are coming, or something,like a damn Catch-22, the whole, "And how many guests are you expecting?" thing because who the fuck has time to make a guest list while they're planning a wedding?!

And once you have a list that (hopefully) doesn't exclude any important guests and DOES exclude some very specific others, then begins the task of getting each of those 250+ guests' addresses. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get somebody's address for christ's sake? I have a better chance of winning the Power Ball jackpot while the sky rains Skittles and I spontaneously sprout a penis and use it to fight in the war against drugs. Which is to say, almost no chance at all. Those are not good odds.

Now that I think about it, guests' addresses were probably easier to come by back in the DOS Dark Ages when everyone still used an address book and always wrote in ink and there was no line for "cell" and nobody ws afraid to list their personal information in the white pages because there were no psychos with computers plotting to kidnap them and sew a jacket out of their back skin, just the regular, ill-equipped psychos, and none of those kind knew how to Skype with your children.

Ok, so I feel a little better now, and I want to share with you some of the most hideous wedding gowns I have ever seen, courtesy of oncewed.com and woreitonce.com :


The Beach Wedding. Because where else would a cowboy tie the knot.




This newlywed barely escaped disaster when her left boob knocked the officiant unconscious.



There is NO WAY this is a chick. No way.




I have no words for this one, only pity.

"

Oh my god, RUN! THE DRESS IS ALIVE!!"



I'm not sure which is worse: the baseball cap or the tan lines.




There are SO SO SO many more of these to come, ya'll. I cannot wait to show you the pictures from the deer stand wedding. Now THERE'S a couple probably didn't even bother with a guest list.