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Weddings stink!
Well, they do. I should know. I have been in 202. Well, make
that 7. But they still stink. Any bride that can actually
wear white and not smirk should be wearing green. Because
that's what she is. And the groom should be wearing blue because...think
I'll stop there.
And I am not jealous. Am not. So what if..
My last boyfriend was into candy and death. And ate a lot
of necrowafers...(not to be confused with Neccowafers or the
cute, little hearts Necco puts out on Valentine's day. They
recently updated the sayings on the little hearts. I am sad.
I really miss "dig me."
Well, maybe weddings don't stink. I just know that it is weird
to be in a wedding party when you are 36. And the bride is
35. Gimme a break. No, I am not trying to channel Nell Carter.
It's just weird to wear taffeta and matching shoes when some
of your body parts are starting to have a fight with gravity.
And gravity is winning.
No, I don't hate men. Although some men are pigs...
I say throw me in the trough.
Well, I do. Not that I do. Just I do. I mean just do it. Elope
or something. Is it really romantic and meaningful to go through
a year of stress planning the wedding only to be forced to
do the chicken dance when the big day comes...Hmmm?
All I can say is that this is it. This is the last time I'm
in a wedding party. And if I ever get married, I won't have
taffeta and hand corsages and coconut cake...mmm...and garlic
potatoes and London broil and...Hey, I hadn't thought of the
food...maybe just a small wedding ceremony with only 4 or
5 or 8 attendants and 400 guests and a big band and dancing
all night...
Oh, well. Okay. Maybe I am a hypocrite. Which just goes to
show...don't count your chicken dances....
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