A friend of mine is getting married. Yay! And you know her, if you read the blog closely, but I’m not allowed to announce it formally yet. Cue the crying, hugging, dancing around, promising we’ll always be friends even after she’s got a live-in boy, etc. Then comes the important discussion:
Me: What are you thinking as far as the ceremony?
Friend: I’m kind of torn. Courthouse is very tempting, but my family would be really hurt if they couldn’t participate in a traditional wedding.
Me: Courthouse all the way, baby. Wham, bam, thank you, your honor!
Friend: But the wedding dress!
Me: That you wear once!
Friend: And the reception!
Me: That lasts for one evening and costs more than your honeymoon!
Friend: And the presents!
Me: Oh, yeah, the presents are pretty sweet.
Friend: But if I had a wedding, I’d have to get my makeup done.
Me: I can do your makeup!
Friend: I’d have to wear heels. I hate heels.
Me: Ballet flats.
Friend: I don’t have a preacher.
Me: Internet Church of the Spaghetti God.
Friend: Wait. Which one of us wants a wedding?
Me: I can’t help it. I always have to have the last word.
Friend: I can see it now: ”Do you, [friend's name omitted] take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” ”I do.” And do you, [Hot Fiance's name omitted], take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” ”I do.” ”And do you, Little Blind Girl, give your blessing to the union of this man and this woman?” ”I do.” And only then will we be legally married!
Me: Better believe it!
You think that’s bad, just wait until you read the yet-to-be-written post about the Little Blind Girl and the Open-Bar Reception!