Remember that terrible wedding I told you about? And how I promised to give you more details about just how shitty it was?
Well, the above is a photo of me at the reception. Doing a choreographed dance. In front of all of the wedding guests.
We were forced into doing that dance because the bride, terrible douchenozzle that she was, “wanted to be entertained” at her reception. Seriously. We were not her friends. We were her entertainment. Much like the little person who was hired for the bachelor party. But that’s another story.
The dance was to that song at the beginning of My Best Friend’s Wedding. To this day, I feel queasy whenever I hear it. The maid of honor, whose dance experience consisted of a combination of elementary school cheerleading and getting her freak on at any establishment that offered a mechanical bull, choreographed it. So CLEARLY it was, in her opinion, The Greatest Dance Ever, which meant that she made us come to NUMEROUS rehearsals throughout the weekend so we could learn her intricate “technique.” So I spent all the precious free hours that I had learning a dance. I could have been lounging at the pool, trying to forget how much I hated everything that was happening around me. But instead I had to learn a motherfucking dance. So I reacted the only way I knew how: I made sure that, when I performed our little routine at the reception, I was completely, absolutely obliterated. Hence my smile.
Also, yes, that was my dress. It was hideous. But compared to everything else about the wedding, complaining about the dress seems kind of unnecessary. I mean, the only way that the dress itself could have been as bad as the entire wedding would have been if it was made out of razor blades and used syringes.
Lastly, notice how pale I am? I did that on purpose. The bride wanted us to be tan for the wedding, so that our skin color would match her own leathery, precancerous skin. I stayed pale out of spite, and when I arrived at the wedding, I told her the self-tanner didn’t take. Amazingly, she believed me. In case you are wondering, she is also an idiot.

Remember that terrible wedding I told you about? And how I promised to give you more details about just how shitty it was?

Well, the above is a photo of me at the reception. Doing a choreographed dance. In front of all of the wedding guests.

We were forced into doing that dance because the bride, terrible douchenozzle that she was, “wanted to be entertained” at her reception. Seriously. We were not her friends. We were her entertainment. Much like the little person who was hired for the bachelor party. But that’s another story.

The dance was to that song at the beginning of My Best Friend’s Wedding. To this day, I feel queasy whenever I hear it. The maid of honor, whose dance experience consisted of a combination of elementary school cheerleading and getting her freak on at any establishment that offered a mechanical bull, choreographed it. So CLEARLY it was, in her opinion, The Greatest Dance Ever, which meant that she made us come to NUMEROUS rehearsals throughout the weekend so we could learn her intricate “technique.” So I spent all the precious free hours that I had learning a dance. I could have been lounging at the pool, trying to forget how much I hated everything that was happening around me. But instead I had to learn a motherfucking dance. So I reacted the only way I knew how: I made sure that, when I performed our little routine at the reception, I was completely, absolutely obliterated. Hence my smile.

Also, yes, that was my dress. It was hideous. But compared to everything else about the wedding, complaining about the dress seems kind of unnecessary. I mean, the only way that the dress itself could have been as bad as the entire wedding would have been if it was made out of razor blades and used syringes.

Lastly, notice how pale I am? I did that on purpose. The bride wanted us to be tan for the wedding, so that our skin color would match her own leathery, precancerous skin. I stayed pale out of spite, and when I arrived at the wedding, I told her the self-tanner didn’t take. Amazingly, she believed me. In case you are wondering, she is also an idiot.

  1. glitterandshade reblogged this from fullcredit and added:
    I will always reblog this as it’s one of the funniest stories of all time.
  2. lifeisforliving reblogged this from glitterandshade