A Long-Ass Ceremony
I went to a wedding once (we’ll call it the nuptials of Donna and Derek) that lasted longer than the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. It involved a wedding party of 34, 775 guests, 18 prayers, eight performances on flute, lute, harp, cello, dulcimer, steel banjo, children’s xylophone, and maybe even armpit farting, two priests, a Protestant minister, ten readings (some Cherokee, some Shel Silverstein), a gong, a rabbi, a boys’ choir, a hologram of Tupac, confetti, widespread fainting, and Deep Vein Thrombosis.
I remember leaving the wedding to head to the reception, thinking: Gin. I need someone to get me gin. What’s the fastest way to get gin in my bloodstream? Through my eye? Someone pour gin in my eyes!
I also remember thinking: I hate Donna and Derek.
The only thing that got me through that ceremony was imagining Forrest Gump shouting “Run! Run, Derek, run!” And then imagining Derek running far, far away from Donna, until the braces came off his legs.
So, you know. Keep it reasonable people. Fourteen minutes is more than adequate.
Babies and Animals
Babies and animals are adorable, but they cannot control their voices or bladders. Let’s keep them where they belong: on Hallmark calendars. That is, unless you want your wedding to be remembered for the boy who dropped trou halfway down the aisle and urinated in the rose petal basket. Or for the doves that were released only to release an entire flockload of birdshit on people in strapless dresses. Or for the doggy in the doggy tux that ran out of the church, was blinded by his doggy top hat, and was run over by a limousine.
The one exception for this rule is capuchin monkeys. Boy, are they ever cute! If you can train several dozen of them to dress as little genies and deliver margaritas without throwing turds or transmitting ebola, go for it!
Veal and Vegannaise
A wedding ceremony is not the time to announce how incredibly cruel or how amazingly thoughtful you are through food. No one wants baby seal kabobs any more than they want a tease-burger. So, stick with the chicken breasts and green beans and mashed potatoes. Or, if you’re inviting me, steak and lobster.
What is UP with the FAVORS? You’re giving everyone a big-ass free party, and they’re giving you a toaster, so let’s call the damn thing even. Do you know how time-consuming assembling favors is? I have seen mothers and daughters try to glue gun one another’s mouths closed over favors. In fact, there should be a reality show called HUGE FAVORS, in which brides ask people to help them put glitter on 500 tiny boxes that are filled with pink M&M’s. It would be a fun show to watch, because every episode would involve drug overdoses and homicide.
If you really feel like you need to hand your guests something as they are leaving, give them two doughnuts and a handful of Advil.
If I hear this song again or see one more uncle break his hip to it, I’m going to pull a double Van Gogh and send my bleeding ears to the couple on their honeymoon.