Rabbit rabbit! And, as a note of caution, stay away from marriages in the South. Especially Florida or Mississippi. Alcohol and bad judgement are always involved. At least that's been my second hand experience. Hearsay. Mumbled hearsay. By someone not entirely sane. Who is a native of both of those places. Which, by the way, I have no intention of ever visiting.
Also, people there have daddy issues.
And by the way, a wedding is not supposed to be a barbecue orgy with buckets of beer. That's not how things are done. Though I hear the ribs were fabulous.
As well as the devilled eggs and the jello salad.
You know, here in the civilized world, when we hear the words "jello salad", we naturally think suburban supermarkets, and a fresh can of Spam. I'll take the Spam -- great with fried eggs, a heap of rice, and lots of hotsauce -- but instead of jello salad I'll have a side yauchoi or collard greens thank you.
I believe the usual term for jello salad in the South is "congealed salad".
And sweet Jesus, that doesn't sound appetizing at all.
It's what they do with cream cheese.
You know, sometimes I realize that my country is, strictly speaking, just a wee bit off-kilter. The sacred union of a man, a woman, and a plate of ribs washed down with beer, somehow doesn't sound like the wedding of the century. Memorable, yes. But people in the South fight over ribs. Especially when full of beer. Apparently when the men got back from smoking their cigars, the women were fighting, having been left quite alone with the beer. The jello salad had ended up everywhere. Why on earth do you have a mixture of cream cheese, strawberries, 7 Up, and gelatine at a wedding? Or any event?
The wedding photos, I've been told, are selfies.
Y'all nuts. You know that, right?
Rabbit rabbit.
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