Douchebags, Wedding Style

We have not one, not two, but FIVE separate dramas going on at the moment, and I'm not even counting the two dramas that wrapped up in March, nor the Neverending Short Sale (Atreyu Buys a Split-level). This is more drama than I've ever seen in my entire life, including Twilight I - VII and The Babysitter's Club series books. COMBINED. More drama than should be capable of existing on one plane of reality at a time.

WHAT THE FUCK, GOSSELINS. Jon's tattoo is NOT DOING THE TRICK. Help a bride out.

Seriously, where the fuck is Jon Edwards when you need him?

Douchebags seem to crawl out of the woodwork for two occasions: weddings and big lottery wins, and unfortunately we haven't hit any jackpots lately, unless you count the indecent number of brand new lubrication products I've received this week. Oh, and the candy bra. Gray was so fed up yesterday with one particular drama that he threw his cell phone like a little girl. I think he realized at the last minute that it might break more than it's already broken, and THEN how would friends and family contact him to bitch?

This is why people elope, we realized last night. Not the expense. Not the hassle. Not the stress.

IT'S THE DOUCHEBAGS.

This is also why weddings are called off because brides suddenly realize what they're marrying into and grooms suddenly realize who they're going to be related to and they both consider the implications for every future holiday and they both go, "Um...let's just keep fucking each other dishonestly." Because THAT?!?! Makes more sense.

I need Xanax, ya'll. And a punching bag.