We must stop the evil monster Bridezilla

Recently, several of you read one of my fantabulous myspace surveys and seemed to want to know the story behind my answer to this question:

[eleven] if you must be an animal for one day, what would you be?
A giant duck. No, wait, a giant Canada Goose…that way I could fly over Bridezilla No. 1’s wedding…my enormous wingspan blotting out the sun…let loose a booming “HOOOOOOOOONK!” which would shake the very ground that they stand on…and then shit all over the ceremony. I really wish Bridezilla No. 1 and No. 2 would really just STFU. I’m sick of the drama.

Ok, well, basically the story is this: We have 2 young ladies who are getting married. One is actually getting married today, and I don’t know when the other one is because I try and tune them out at every opportunity. And both of them are Bridezillas, meaning they are totally obsessed with their weddings, and it’s the only thing they talk about. Pass them in the hall, and they’re bitching about their weddings. Have to ask them a question, they’re bitching about their weddings. Say “Hey, how ya doin?” Bitch bitch bitch. I’m sorry hun, I don’t care. My question was rhetorical.

Now clearly, I don’t understand the whole Bridezilla mentality. I mean, the one woman was freaking out because the mailing rate changed, and she was going to have to add a couple 1-cent liberty bell stamps to the envelopes for her invitations. Oh dear God no! Not that! Not the fucking Liberty Bells! Oh, the day will be ruined because of that damn post office! It’s a conspiracy I tells ya! The horror!

From my understanding, weddings are supposed to be a happy occasion–so who knew that the 6+ months leading up to this are such an intense hell.

Bridezillas, if you ever wonder why men get cold feet before the wedding, here’s why: They’ve seen you transform from the woman that they fell in love with into some kind of colossal obsessive freak that’s flying off the handle about the most insignificant stuff, acting as though Western civilization depends upon your getting this whole thing to exact specifications, and it must be perfect. Oh God help us all if it’s not. He has to listen to your grousing, endure all of this nonsense for months, and he’s supposed to be excited about entering into a legally binding ceremony with a woman who’s turned out to be a complete and utter unstable freakshow? No, what they’re thinking before stepping up to the altar is “Holy hell! How did I not see this before I proposed? Should I take the hit and lose the engagement ring, or is she going to calm the fuck down after this colossal waste of time and money is over?” And you’re wondering why he isn’t as excited as you are for this day. Oh, actually, you’re not. Your more worried that the flowers aren’t exactly so, if they’re going to give your guests the proper meals, if the cake is the exact measurements that the baker said it would be, and if that stupid bitch seamstress did what she was supposed to do your dress, cause if not, you’re gonna call the lawyer that you have on retainer and set her ass straight.

This is probably just me, but should I ever get married, here’s how it’s going to go:

1) Elope. The ceremony is supposed to be about us, so let it just be us. These Bridezilla ceremonies seem to be more about women whipping it out and trying to upstage each other than about the actual point of getting married, so screw the whole thing.

2) Party: After we return, we rent out a fire hall or something, and basically throw a killer party for our friends. Get a couple kegs, a stocked bar, some great chow, a good DJ and great photographer. That’s it. Everyone shows up in comfortable clothes. No one sits through a ceremony that they pretend to care about. God doesn’t strike any of the guests dead for stepping foot into a church. It’s win-win!

And the best part: I don’t have to look at my future wife and say, “Holy hell, am I gonna have to deal with this bullshit for the rest of my life?”

One thing is for certain, though: If I was stupid enough to be getting married to either of the two Bridezillas at work, when we started the honeymoon, the first thing I would do is insist on having anal sex with her. If she said no, I would say, “Honey, you’ve been a bigger fucking pain in the ass than this for the past 6 months. This won’t last nearly as long, so suck it up. You owe me.”


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