A Cocktail, A Gun, and Two “I Do’s.”

21 Oct

The age is upon me where everyone around me is getting married, talking about getting married, planning weddings, getting engaged, having engagement parties, showers are as abundant as underage workers in China, and stress is plentiful. Ahhhh, breathe it in… and pass the Xanax.

I’m going to look on the bright side and thank the universe that we are not to the baby stage yet. Because when that starts… I’m moving to Antarctica and blaming the faulty public transportation to and from glaciers on my lack of presence until the children… have graduated college.

I love these girls and will help them with anything they need in their final hour as well as seriously enjoy being creative…but COME ON! This whole idea of “weddings’ and “happily ever after” cause of a six-hour production has totally gone over my head.

Let’s get this straight… You are going to spend a lot of money, time, energy, stress, lose a few chunks of hair, gain a couple of scars and hot glue blisters, and maybe forget your name, where you are from, and have to be committed by the end of it just for ONE (supposedly magical) day (the magic must be in the amount of relief felt when the disaster is over and no one lost a finger or died)?? Ok, that’s what I thought you said. Just checking.

I had NOOOO idea the amount of energy that goes into planning these things. And lordhavemercy! the amount of money that is made on this (is increasing with every divorce). I would think if we stop making all the crap fake foliage, and crystal tiaras, and light up bride and grooms that go into the creation of weddings, the polar bears might have a nicer home and Bridezillas and the WE channel may have never existed… only in my dreams… Oh yeah, and people might actually STAY married.

The amount of details that rack each and every bride’s brain blows MY mind. And the fact that we all sign up for our dream nightmare day willingly nonetheless.  I’m not even in (most) of the weddings and am feeling willing to soon agree to chip in for an elopement and need a strong cocktail. I can only imagine what all the father’s across the planet Earth are feeling. And the pictures, and the place cards, and the freaking centerpieces. Who thought up this madness and how did something so painful stick for so many years?

What happened to the good ol’ days when young men took their bride and 3 goats, shook hands with their father-in-law’s and called it even. 😉

The moral of this story: Fathers only have boys… and I’m going somewhere tropical with one AMAZING dress, copious amounts of relaxation, and vodka. Save the date!

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