It's not a coronation, b*tch. It's a wedding.

Don't forget the Divorce Party on September 15th. I expect you all to attend and listen to me whine about what a beast Jake was. Bring a gift and a premium bottle of Vodak. If you can't afford Grey Goose or better, don't bother coming!

Then we will start all over with my marriage to Raul, the pool boy from the hotel in Las Vegas. We'll need to move fast since he is in the country on a Visa and it'll expire soon.

Summer Glau's Love Slave: Bride sounds fat.

/Dear Jake,
//Run.
///Run until your feet bleed, bandage them, run some more.
////Repeat.

Actually she sounds like she's annoyingly skinny but only because she eats a tiny salad every day and then biatches and moan to everyone she knows about how hungry she is.

And yeah, Jake, just carry this e-mail with you and there isn't a door of a single guy's house anywhere in America that will be shut for you. Hell even us sanely maried folks will help Mi Couch es Su Couch

Bride sounds fat.

/Dear Jake,
//Run.
///Run until your feet bleed, bandage them, run some more.
////Repeat.

your going to the wrong wedding.

Is it your wedding? Then, yeah, definitely the wrong wedding.

At an airport the other day, I saw a young woman walk by with a t-shirt with the number "1" on the back and "MAID OF HONOR" as if it was her name on a sports jersey. A moment later, two more walked by with numbers and "BRIDESMAID."

Tank it!

Bridezilla? nononononono... a Bridezilla would get crushed by a b*tch like this. This is a case of a Bridethulhu.

 

Just started planning a wedding myself. I told my sister, the only attendant I'm having, to pimp slap me anytime I get unreasonable.

Considering the bride's grasp of English, how the hell did she make the money to pay for trips to Vegas and expensive Colorado ski resorts?

/yes, yes, i know what the fark answer will be.

"Dearest Bride and Former Friend,

Go squat and piss up a tree.

Love, Me."

/only response that is appropriate to coonts like that

Hope for the groom's sake that he sees this and runs screaming for the exit.

I invited my "best girlfriend" L. to be the maid of honor (and in fact, my only attendant). It was a small formal ceremony, nothing lavish, and all I asked of her was that she show up and wear something appropriate. No shower, no parties, no expensive travel or hotel stays, just be there for me.

She did throw me a "bachelorette" party of sorts the week before the wedding -- she took me and some friend of hers I'd never met before to a Bennigan's, where we drank a lot of revolting shots with "sexy" names and I spent most of my evening trying to get L. to stop insisting that our waiter strip "for me". (I ended up slipping him an extra $20 and a note of apology on the way out.)

On the day of the wedding, we ended up leaving for the wedding chapel without her because she hadn't shown up yet, and left her a note on the door with the address of the venue in hopes that she'd show up. She did -- 10 minutes before the ceremony was due to start -- wearing a ratty, shapeless black polyester shirt and blouse, asking if I had a spare pair of stockings because she hadn't shaved her legs. (Or brushed her hair. Or put on makeup.) One of my other guests dragged her off to the rest room to tidy her up, and was thanked by L. calling her a biatch for gently suggesting she wasn't entirely presentable. She never did buy us a gift, though she had previously offered to buy us the bed of our choice up to $500, but that didn't bother me at all until years later...

I wasn't especially upset about any of it, really, I just kind of wished I had instead asked the friend who had so generously made my dress (by which time I had already asked the other friend) instead of L. -- that friend showed up on time and helped me get dressed, did my hair, held my hand, and generally did all the stuff one would generally expect of the MoH. I still feel kind of bad about it.

Cut to 10 years or so later. L. was getting married, and despite being Wiccan and having grown up in a secular Jewish household, she had decided to have a huge, lavish Xtian-style wedding with all the trimmings -- rented mansion, five attendants, and of course the big poofy white dress with the butt bow. (Officiated, however, by a pagan high priest and priestess wearing goofy robes.) To her credit, she did pay for the whole thing out of her own pocket -- $30k or so -- except, of course, for the expenses of her attendants. She asked me to be her maid of honor. Stupidly, I agreed to fly cross-country on my own dime and buy the dress of her choice in order to do this.

The first bridesmaid dresses she picked out were beautiful, a lovely pale peach shantung with a cut that wasn't too bridesmaidy and could easily have been cut down into a very rewearable knee-length sheath after the wedding. Unfortunately, it turned out that the size 18 (I wore a 12, but we were warned they ran "a little small") was still too small for me, and for two of the other bridesmaids as well. (It apparently fit the size 8 bridesmaid just fine.) L. picked out a different dress, one that came in sizes up to 24, and without consulting me, went ahead and ordered the 24 on my behalf (I had to pay her back) on the assumption that these other dresses would run as small as the first choice.

The dress turned out to be royal purple brocade -- much too heavy and dark for an outdoor wedding in Maryland in August -- and the size was true, which meant it was in fact *twice* my size. There was a month left to go, but L. was so terrified that if I tried to send it back I might not get the replacement in time that she insisted I have it altered to fit.

When I took it to a seamstress, she looked at me like I was crazy and said she'd basically have to completely take it apart and re-cut the fabric and put it back together, and that would cost me $250. Which I paid, because I wanted it to look right. When I got the dress back, she'd done a complete hack job on it; it didn't hang right, was still too big, and made me look like that girl in Willy Wonka who turned into a giant blueberry. Since it had taken her three weeks to alter it, there was no time to try to get it fixed.

My boyfriend and I were able to arrange to stay with his parents, but neither of us could take off enough work to be in Maryland for more than a couple of nights, so we weren't able to be there for the wedding rehearsal or dinner. By the time we arrived, L. had worked herself into a gigantic snit, and as soon as I was dressed on the day of the wedding she threw me out in favor of having the other bridesmaids assist her. On the up side, that freed me up to mingle, so I got to have a nice chat with a very prominent television journalist who turned out to be somehow related to L.'s fiance, but that was pretty much the high point of the whole event; the ceremony was interminable and exceedingly dull, and by the end of it I had sweated completely through the hideous purple gown, which, of course, I never wore again, and in fact threw away during a move a few years back because I was sick of looking at it.

Oh, and the postscript: in her "thank you" note for my gift, she actually complained that I hadn't chosen it from her registry. (I couldn't afford most of what was on it -- Lalique crystal, for god's sake, when I knew perfectly well she never personally shopped anywhere fancier than Target. I felt like a $150 gravy boat in her chosen china pattern was a pretty meaningless gift for the marriage of a friend of nearly 20 years, so I got them a nice gift for their house that actually reflected their personalities.

/A few months later I received an engraved pewter cup commemorating the wedding. I had no idea what to do with it, so I use it for loose change.

See, and I fully expect my next proposal will be something like this- he looks in my eyes and asks "will you continue being the chaos to my order for the rest of our perverted and sinful lives?"

And then we have a 20's themed party where the dress code is garters for women and cuff links for men, and no gifts, just buy us a drink.

It'd fit perfectly.

Expolaris: blatz514: /always a groomsmen, never a groom.

[i.ytimg.com image 480x360]

Give any good speeches?

Was only best man once. But my best friend had thee best "best man speech" evar.

"Wine'm, dine'm, sixty-nine'm"

dotvincent: a week after agreeing to be MOH (the only person in her bridal party), she excluded me from the engagement party because I didn't have a serious boyfriend.

Well sure, you'd have spoiled the Love Vibe with your loveless singletude. The nerve. You could at least have taken on a boyfriend for the event. Really quite selfish of you, I think.

Crackers Are a Family Food: [i46.tinypic.com image 454x627]

Hahahaha. I had gotten to that exact point with someone once... I had fun; they didn't, but I did.

Summer Glau's Love Slave: Bride sounds fat.

/Dear Jake,
//Run.
///Run until your feet bleed, bandage them, run some more.
////Repeat.

But her parents sound looooooooooooooooadeeeeeeeeeeeeed...

white women problems

Anyone remember the movie City Slickers with Billy Crystal? Daniel Stern's character's, Phil, wife?

markfara: It's not a coronation, b*tch. It's a wedding.

I lol'd.

KarmicDisaster: Advice to groom, run.

Running may not be fast enough... someone get on their motorcycle and have him jump on.

Jake, for the love of god, boy... run like hell.

The poor guy will be wanting a divorce by Labor Day in 2013.