Tag Archives: bride

The coming of Bridezilla

Bridezilla is a real thing.

You see that word and you envision a reality show, some over-indulged, moderately privileged bride snapping at people as she plans her wedding.

And then you are in Starbucks right now and you realize that the most over the top episode of Bridezilla is a best case scenario. 

Because she is here.

The bride to be.


The name conjures a Britney Spears image. 

A pretty blonde with good teeth in suggestive clothing.

The suggestive clothing is there, and that is all.

In your head, replace Britney Spears with a chunkier Roseanne Barr with bad hair and a serious overbite.

Take a second and let that sink in. 

If a shudder just went down your back, understand that its just being described to you, I am actually here.

And her entry is epic and befitting the name Bridezilla.

The front door of Starbucks opens with a little too much force and in she comes, talking on her phone to Lorraine. (How do we know her name?)

“Because I’m the fucking bride, Lorraine!” 

The phone being an inch from her mouth did not stop her from yelling. Loud.

Is the situation made better or worse that Amber is about 6 months pregnant?

That is a rhetorical question.

And the argument could be made that it doesn’t make it worse, but it does add to the comedic value of the entire situation.

Also, call me old fashioned, but the soon to be mama should go easy on the caffeine.

A soy latte with a triple shot seems excessive. 

But she is drinking for two. 

To each his or her own.

Sure you risk low birth weight, but have you HAD a triple shot soy latte?

It’s divine.

Lets check the obscenity board while we have a moment.

Things Lorraine (Maid of Honor) has been called in the 2 minutes since Bridezilla came into our lives. 

Cunt 3 times. (To be specific, 1 cunt, 1 dumb cunt and 1 response of cunt when responding to what I believe was Lorraine objecting to being called a dumb cunt.)

The list will end here. It seemed like a great idea, and then it got entirely too sad when viewed as a societal comment of millennials in general. (Plus, Bridezilla is sitting next to me and I am in fear for my life that she will lean over and read this.)

So, after the longest 10 minutes of my recent life, during which a triple soy latte was guzzled, 6 petite vanilla bean scones and 1 Gogurt from her purse, Bridezilla got up and stomped her way out of our lives. 

I was going to make a joke about missing her already, but its a little late in the game to start lying to each other.

In parting, let me throw some wisdom your way. 

Call your mom, if you are married to the mother of your kids, kiss her, send a text if she is your ex-

And thank her, from the bottom of your heart.

For not being Bridezilla. 

(Unless she is, then you are just fucked, my friend.)

(And if she is Lorraine, dim the lights, get her a glass of wine and rub her feet. You’re fucked too, but in a different way. And if you can get me an invite to the wedding, I would consider it a solid. Thanks bro.)


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Posted by on November 24, 2019 in Uncategorized


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On my best behavior, sort of.

There is a certain magic and stupidity that comes over people when they travel.

I live in Southern California, pretty much in the place that everyone else either moves to, or goes to on vacation.

And if you just asked the silly question of why would people move here, spend a weekend in Wisconsin in the dead of winter and you will realize where the phrase “Dead of Winter” came from.

So, since this is pretty much a sunny paradise, you can understand why I would jump at a trip to a place that is that much more paradise-esque.

Catalina Island.

And not just a random day trip, which can be fun, don’t get me wrong.

But this is for a wedding.

And weddings rock.

Catalina holds the Guinness book record for most bars per square mile in the world.

And the party starts on the boat ride over.

Its not often you see a ferry with a cash bar, but it is a nice idea.

And when you find out that the aforementioned bar is fully stocked with quality craft brews, it is just wrong not to drink.

The short version of this is that the ferry ride was good, and I arrived with a few cocktails in me and in the company of old friends.

The irony of living in a sunny paradise, but being descended from a pale people who have had the ability to tan bred out of them is not lost on me. While I don;t mind the sunlight, there is a certain point that I hug the shadows like a vampire forced out in the daytime.

You tend to fall into a slower pace when you are on vacation, no matter how short that vacation might be.

And much like Olympic diving, your score goes higher when the difficulty factor is higher as well.

So for this little vacation Olympic event, the difficulty is raised by being on that vacation for the purpose of going to a friend’s wedding.

Another difficulty factor is that there are a number of not only old friends, but some old high school peeps that have hated me for years.

So the stage is set for possible mayhem.

It is now the day after the wedding/reception.

Good lord. The shame is bordering on overwhelming.

A few thoughts.

Alcohol? Bad. Very bad.

There is a special section of hell for a single man that maneuvers an insanely hot married woman into giving him dirty dancing lessons in front of her really pissed off husband.

Also, seafood will never be my friend.

Food poisoning and alcohol poisoning have remarkably similar symptoms for some people.

Also, having a ticket for the 6:45 ferry back to the mainland does not mean they will hold the boat for you.

4 days after the wedding/reception and being all but deported back to the mainland.

I love weddings. There is something awe inspiring about seeing people at that apogee of happiness.

This is the time before, God forbid, hideous fights, harsh words, insane in-laws, baggage causing events.

Everything is gold. pure and clean. Frost was onto something there.

I wish them well, I wish them the toast I have managed to utter at pretty much every wedding I have ever attended.

I wish you luck, I wish you love, I wish you patience, and most of all, keep in mind that you chose them.

Stay gold, Pony Boy. Stay gold.

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Posted by on October 9, 2015 in Uncategorized


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