Monday, July 14, 2008
A Lark, A Spree, It's Very Clear To Me
My parents are insane. Flat out insane. And I'm only saying insane instead of what I really think - which is that they are incredibly selfish - because I hate the idea that that is who my parents really are.
But let me back up. So we booked a place. A very nice place and I readjusted all my expectations for my wedding, realizing that I would need to compromise with my parents to make them happy since after all, they were footing the bill. However, I told them that I felt as though I was losing control of this wedding and that my happiness and/or my impending nuptials had very little to do with this event. Rather, impressing their friends from Sad Pathetic Lexus-Owning Upper-Class, USA was the main goal of the day. (And shouldn't it be? After all, isn't that why we get married? It isn't? Shocking.) And we agreed to compromise. (Just to make sure my entire premise isn't on shaky ground - compromise generally means that multiple forces with varying of differing viewpoints agree to adjust those opinions and/or desires in an effort to reach some common ground, yes? Yes.)
[Aside: as I'm typing this, I'm so angry I am literally shaking and my stomach is burning and my chest hurts. Just so you know.]
OK. So since we have booked a place, the following things have happened:
1) I chose my wedding colors - peach, brown and gold. I told my mom said colors and offered up the fact that she would look lovely in a champagne colored dress. She told me she "doesn't look good in champagne" and then lamented how [LARGE SIGHHHHHHHHH] she would "just have to wear brown AGAIN" [note: Mom wore brown to Brother's wedding last October]. E&E changed the colors of her wedding so Mom could wear a dark plum wine colored dress which is better suited to her complexion. New wedding colors - peach, brown, and plum-wine.
2) Mom reviewed the budget and gave E&E the *look* when she saw that money was allotted to pay for a babysitter for those guests who were told that the reception is an "adult only" event. (Note: E&E has friends with young children; Mom does not have any friends or family with young children.) Another *look* was supplied when Mom saw money allotted for decorations including, chivari chairs and uplights. Mom then said that money needed to be used for valet parking and a $3 upgrade per person for better wine, because the house wine was not satisfactory (to be fair, this was Dad who wanted E&E to spend $500 for better wine). Note also that Mom and E&E had agreed that since E&E chose the hotel as a compromise, that Mom would allow E&E to make decisions about decorating for the reception. Apparently there was no decisions to be made because all of the money would go to things that Mom wanted. And then there is nothing to decide. Or to decorate with. Except her own tears. Salt makes a beautiful mosaic apparently.
3) Mom told E&E she "needed to get something off her chest." This was the fact that E&E was a poor decision-maker and she was doing something she would regret for the REST...OF... HER...LIFE. She was not inviting her fiance's brother's wife to be a bridesmaid. Got that? (Yes, Mom just suggested that the girl who told the guy who was in her gym class that she saw Ferris at 52 Flavors last night should be in her wedding party.) And to be clear - Mr. F's Brother's Wife (we'll call her Baskin Robbins) is very nice. But more importantly, I don't know her middle name. Or her birthday. Or her favorite color, or least favorite color, or ice cream flavor. And I've never even seen her drunk, or held her hair back when she puked, or seen her cry. But I'm supposed to make her my bridesmaid? And I know what you might be thinking. You're thinking - bitch. I know. But you've got it wrong. I have invited Mr. F's sister to be in the wedding party - but I've known Mr F's sister since we met each other (and they were roommates). And when Mr. F moved away and we dated long distance, F's Sister (who I was about to call "Fister" but then changed my mind...yeah) and I actually hung out on our own. Baskin Robbins I have met exactly 6 times. And 3 of those times were for less than 20 minutes. Really. OH! And more evidence as to why I am NOT A BAD PERSON - I have not asked a friend who I have known for 20 years (literally we met in 6th grade) to be a bridesmaid because I had to stop this thing called the wedding party from getting out of control. (We're up to 7 on each side.) And yes, I was in her wedding a few years back. And I know she'll be ok with this because the others I selected MAKE SENSE. But this would not. And then Friend Of Twenty Years would think - "Wow, I guess our friendship is over if she chose a girl she met three times over me." OK, done venting on this one. And yeah, I have no frickin clue where I started or what the point was and my narrative thread is wrapped around the stem of my glass of Cabernet, so screw it.
4) [Taking deep breaths.] We have arrived at the camel. My goodness, she is carrying quite a load there. Don't know how she hasn't just shit her hump. And witness now...yes, watch carefully...while I just take this TEENSY little straw, so light, so little and just put it on her back. Except that this tiny straw is not tiny; you have been fooled. It is in fact a giant piece of FRENCH TOAST I am putting on the camel's back and the camel is SMOOSHED.
OK, so the camel looks up to see what in fact this thing is that has just ruined it all for him. And by god, it's BRUNCH!
In the infamous words of Elton John, "I'm a brunch, I'm a brunch, oh the brunch is back." (For an introduction to the wonders of E&E's parents' obsession with brunch, see e.g., post regarding Plan D - Mission Accomplished.)