Wedding bliss. Or something.

As you may or may not be aware, I, my friends, am the official wedding diva (tm). I have been involved in nearly thirty weddings in the last 5 years or so. My greatest aspiration in life at this point is to get to just GO to a wedding as a guest and at no point have to tie tiny tulle bows on anything.

By far the scariest wedding I have ever attended was in Ontario a few years ago. Nothing against Ontario, it could have happened anywhere, since unfortunately crazy people are a worldwide plague. A few highlights for your reading pleasure (and some snarky comments, for mine).

• The bridesmaids dresses were ordered from a show choir catalogue. For real. They were black floor-length polyester with gold and black sequins on the top. It was breathtaking, and not in a good way. I had to subscribe to 2 years of Vogue just to get that picture out of my mind.
• The groom's family all came up from North Carolina in a bus. Specifically, THEIR bus, complete with painting of a stagecoach on the side. Did I mention that they owned a family bus? The thought of co-owning a bus with my family, nevermind riding 16 hours in it, makes me want to co-own a lot of valium as well.
• The train on the bride's dress was 14 feet long. You could have housed refugees under it.
  
• The wedding sermon was 45 minutes long, had eight points, and contained no less than three very explicit references to Activities Generally Reserved For The Honeymoon. The minister was clearly not aware of the existence of clever euphemisms for such activities, but had a firm grasp on the single entendre. In case that isn't disturbing enough, the minister was the bride's father.
• At the reception, some guy played a saw. In case you missed it, let me repeat. He. played. a. SAW. At a wedding reception. My snark-maker shuts down at the thought.
  
• The wedding favors were Chrismas ornaments. Specifically, they were glitter-coated music notes with little cherubs sitting on top. Little anatomically correct boy cherubs. Yep, the reception tables were all adorned with tiny glitter-covered penii. Somebody call Martha Stewart.