In traditional weddings the world over there will be food, and often music. In American weddings, there is suffering, as befits a gun-crazy culture told not to bring their weapons. Because otherwise they would shoot the bridezilla putting them through all this.
This pops into perfect focus when one sees the demands of a person on the internet, whose nuptial event is a year hence. She demands that all invitees dress in a specific manner. Women between 100 and 160 pounds: green velvet sweater, orange suede pants, Louboutin shoes, and a Burberry scarf. Men between one hundred and two hundred pounds: Purple fuzzy jackets, white trainers, glow sticks.
Children: red entirely. Freshly ripped dripping heart red.
Fat people: dress in black; it represents the devil.
She and her husband-to-be are certified spiritual healers. Deep experience.
She's pissed that someone turned her requirements into an internet meme, and has bought a ninety nine dollar polygraph kit to test all of her friends at a Saturday night jamboree at her house. Part-AY.
Because she is a spiritual healer.
With psychic creds.
I bet she and her not-yet-hubby wrote their own vows.
Because I am making fun of her, I am a troll playing video games in a scum basement, and how dare I comment about people I don't even know?
Um. No basement. No X-box.
I'm just an average middle aged Dutch American with too many books littering my second floor digs, pipes and tobacco all over the place, and an unhealthy taste for pastries, hot sauce and hot Hong Kong Milk Tea.
Spiritual healing and its attendant meaningfulness give me bile.
No one in their right mind wears orange suede pants.
The only dress requirements I consider valid are "presentable, with no private parts showing". Which means no codpieces, no exposed cracks or cleavage. No hotpants either.
If I ever get married, the stuffed animals will be there.
Some of them might be under or over dressed.
Leave your guns at home.
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