My dad and stepmom came into town yesterday, and we toured six potential wedding spots in 24 hours. We saw some nice places, drove through some pretty country, and had fun hanging out and looking around.
Still, all the talk of floating votive candles, chair bows, and Party Machine DJ Packages was making my brain seep out of my pores. It turns out these things literally boggle my mind. I was absolutely useless during the whole procedure, and I still feel a little stupid.
Fortunately, while I was trying to blink out the glazed look in my eyes, my stepmom was busily taking notes in her planner and playing hardball. She's so freakishly organized that she was mistaken for my wedding coordinator. Good thing, too, because if it were up to me I would have just said fuck it and rented Gattiland for an afternoon, if only to not have to hear the word "tulle" ever again.
Things that managed to filter in through my permafog:
Everyone wants to know what your color is. If you say you don't know, they will throw you this quick look, like they're wondering why you're bothering to get married at all if you don't even know what your color is yet. God. For some reason, nobody asked Eric things like that. He got wander off to check out the view from the back porch or at least stare off into space, blissful and untroubled by things like whether the napkins should match the accent flowers in the bouquet.
Most wedding venue salespeople visibly lack a sense of humor. Don't you
know that getting married is serious business, young lady?
Tours seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on the bride's dressing room. Cherub sculptures are popular, as are lace curtains and rose-and-seafoam-green throws draped casually everywhere. Most of them are very pretty, and most of them look like the bedroom I was denied when I was seven.
Grooms get much less consideration, but they do at least get something like a nautical or a lone-star theme and maybe some leather chairs. It's all very manly, almost comically so: You are a MAN! Now grind out your cigar, get out there, and marry the shit out of that bitch! RRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRR!
Finally, the idea of incorporating live cobras into your centerpieces is never not funny. I see them loosely draped in tulle, with champagne-and-blue satin bows securing sprigs of baby's breath to their furious little tails. It'll be adorable.