Category Archives: weddings

Ask Apocalypstick: Are Cash Bars Tacky?

jackie john f. kennedy wedding photo

Hi! I know you’re not a wedding blogger, but you’ve written about weddings before and you have good advice in general about stuff, so I wanted to ask you about this. Please be honest!!!!! I am engaged and I am very excited & happy and hes [sic] the best. He’s helping me with everything. There’s a big issue that came up. Should we have a cash bar at our wedding? Do you think cash bars are tacky? Our families are divided on this……we’re having a big reception and we want to give alcohol but it’s so much more expensive than I thought it would be to have a full bar. Half of everyone is saying, do a cash bar and then the other half are like NONONONONO!!! I think I know what I want to do but i [sic] just need someone not involved to give me their honest opinion….so yeah. I didn’t think it was going to be so stressful. 

Okay, let’s dance. First of all, big congratulations to you and your man! Second, who is “everyone”? There are way too many people involved here, which is probably why it’s so stressful. If you listen to everyone’s opinion, you won’t hear anything.

Since you pleaded with me to be honest, here you go: YES, CASH BARS ARE TACKY! A wedding reception is a party, which is why the people you invite are called guests. That makes you the host. Hosts do not ask guests to pay for their food or entertainment, period. The rules don’t change because it’s a wedding. You’re throwing a party because you want to celebrate with your family and friends. Thus, you need to provide for them. If you cannot afford to pay for everything for your party, then you should not have a one. If you had them over for a big party at your home, I’m assuming you wouldn’t say to them, “Please bring cash. Beer and wine is $3, mixed drinks are $5. Thanks!”

But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I just went to my dear friend Katie’s wedding and she did a wine and beer bar. There was a special brew named after the couple along with a good variety of beers on tap and bottled, and a nice variety of wine, including champagne. At Katie’s kind request I got very, very day drunk and all was good. I even went exploring in the very pretty park and managed to avoid getting hit by the sprinkler yonder.

almie rose

Drunk daytime exploration is the best kind of exploration, fact. Also I want to point out that I was NOT wearing white. it’s light pink. It only looks white in this photo. And I cleared the dress with the bride ahead of time, just to make sure. And she said, “LOL you’re fine, that’s not white” and I said, “I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE TO AVOID FUTURE ARGUMENTS WITH MYSELF” which I clearly failed to prevent.

What do YOU think, everyone? Are cash bars tacky?

Got a relationship/dating/life question you’d like to send my way? For honest advice, email me. Please realize that anything you email me I may use and edit (mostly for length) at my discretion. 


Photo credit: JFK Wedding photo, 1953, by Lisa Larsen for LIFE magazine, via LIFE photo archives for Google.


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It was ONE time!

bride wedding 1970 vintage photo

This is one of the more embarrassing things I’m going to admit. That says a lot considering this and this (and you can read more about that second incident in my new book, I Forgot To Be Famous).

I blog about weddings a lot, but I do not want to get married anytime soon. I just like weddings. I like to party. I like the trends. I like the blogs. I like looking at dresses and looking at rings. I’m a wedding girl. These things happen.

A few years ago, I was in the middle of wedding fever, and the only prescription was more cowbell more wedding fodder. The blogs just weren’t enough. I needed something harder. I needed a magazine.

Shit was getting real.

But I didn’t actually want to pay for the magazine. I hadn’t completely lost my mind. So I searched the internet for “free wedding magazine subscription.” (I know, I know. I just, I know.) I found a lot of leads. Some were dead ends. Finally I found something. A new wedding magazine was offering to send the first issue, free. Zero payment.

But there was a catch. You needed to provide the date of your wedding, the location (just the city) and the name of the groom. Which is really fucking weird, why the hell do they need to know the name of the groom? What if you are the groom? What if you’re a lady marrying a lady? I still don’t get it. But whatever. I made up a date, put my city, and as for the groom…I glanced around my room, looking for inspiration, the way Robin Williams did to come up with the name Mrs. Doubtfire.

And then I saw it. My cat.

Yes. My cat.

I’m not proud of this.

I used the name of my cat.

My cat’s name was Sony (may he rest in peace.) So I put my fiance as “Mr. S. Ony.”

“Haha!” I thought. “I beat you, wedding industry! I beat your system! I’m not even ENGAGED. My fiance is my CAT . Who’s stupid now???”

Oh, Almie. You.

Because now, I get all these invites for bridal shows:

wedding postcards

I did this. I DID THIS.

It was ONE time, years ago, and I STILL GET THESE. It was one time. ONE TIME! Yes, I got the magazine. It was enjoyable. But ever since, I’ve been getting an endless stream of postcards inviting me to bridal showplaces. (Sometimes the invites come in a nice envelope, leading me to believe that I was invited to an actual party or wedding. And then I open it and feel like an idiot.)

These showplaces are events one goes to when they’re actually engaged to be married. Some things you can do at these events:

  • Attend seminars. About…who the fuck knows.
  • Get makeovers.
  • Find free (sure) or discounted wedding planners.
  • Sample cakes, hours d’oeuvres, chocolate desserts, and candy buffets.
  • Win prizes.
  • Get free stuff, like personalized t-shirts.
  • See a bridal fashion show and the latest wedding gowns.

Even after I moved, they still found me. I don’t know how, but they found me. Run for it, Marty!

And I get emails too. So many emails soliciting me for wedding and bridal stuff.

This is my fault. I know it. To quote a sobbing Wadsworth (Clue), “We all make mistakes.” And to quote Mr. Green, “Mrs. Peacock was a man?” And to quote Wadsworth again, “Why should the police come? Nobody’s called them.” Those last two don’t have anything to do with this, but once I start quoting Clue, it’s very hard for me to stop.

Anyone else here have some embarrassing wedding stories? Please share.


PHOTO CREDIT: Daryl Westbrook, 1970, Nantucket Historical Association via Flickr.


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I Hit It First: A Love Song.

jayne mansfield wedding 50s

Ray J made a sex tape with Kim Kardashian and wrote a song about it, titled “I Hit It First.” I do not think Ray J knows that the word first is not the same as the word before. But, okay Ray J. You hit it first. Yeah. Sure. And Dick Sargent was the first Derrin.

Some lyrics from “I Hit It First”:

I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it first
I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it first

Really. No exaggeration. That is the chorus.

This song made me realize what love is.

Really. No exaggeration. Here’s why.

I would like to get married one day. I would like to marry someone I am in love with and actually really like as a person. And he feels the same way about me. And beyond loving each other, we’re friends. We have something. There’s a “we” and it’s not the eye rolling nauseating “we” that is the basis of so many godawful romantic comedies. It’s the “we” of David Bowie’s “Heroes”, the:

And you, you can be mean.
And I, I’ll drink all the time.
‘Cause we’re lovers. And that is a fact.
Yes we’re lovers. And that is that.

I want to marry someone (again, far into into the future) who actually likes who I am, all the weird bits and pieces that create this stubborn, bizarre, sensitive, silly personality of mine. I want them to be silly sort as well. And I want them to have their own weird bits and pieces. And we look at our pieces and we say, “You know, these don’t have to fit. We don’t have to complete each other. We just have to be with each other. Because if we don’t, our lives will be unhappy. And that is that.”

This person, this wonderful weird handsome man, will love me and understand me. He will want to make me happy. I will also love and understand him and want to make him happy. We’ll have this mutual appreciation between us of the others’ quirks and we’ll want to make each other better by the end of every day, and not worse. He will be the man who finds joy in stupid fun things.

And so when I tearfully accept (I know I’ll cry) his marriage proposal, and we plan our wedding, and I won’t insist on anything but ask if I can choose our wedding song, and he says yes, and I say I choose, “I Hit It First” he will laugh and say yes. He’ll expect me to back down. And I won’t back down because I don’t want him to know I’m mostly kidding. So neither of us backs down and it all culminates in that moment where we’re about to dance our first dance to a song the DJ (or iTunes Robot) has to introduce as, “Uh, a song that came out in…like…2013? About…some guy, who, ah, he…he slept with this…there was this…do you guys remember reality TV? And Kim Kardashian? Kanye West’s ex wife? Yeah, this song is about a guy who banged her. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. And Mrs. ______!” and we’ll dance and we’ll laugh and laugh.

And that’s love.


Photo of Jayne Mansfield by Ralph Crane, 1958.


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Malibu Wedding.

sunset beach malibu

Once I accidentally went to a Malibu wedding. Sort of. My friends and I decided to spend a day at the beach. Living in Los Angeles, one gets spoiled and treats the beach as though it was another Starbucks; a sort of, “Oh, yeah, it’s everywhere, it will always be there.” At least my friends and I do, not being surfer types and not having beach houses of our own. So one day we thought, right, this exists, let’s hang out there. We sat on a Harry Potter blanket and discreetly drank wine coolers while we watched a fat man play volleyball with another fat man. They seemed to be having a good time.

After that, we all got stuck on the idea that we simply had to go to Moonshadows. Moonshadows is the restaurant where Mel Gibson famously got arrested and let a beautifully horrendous tirade spew forth. The infamous “The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world” and “What are you looking at, Sugar Tits” the greatest hits of Gibson all happened just down the beach from us. We thought perhaps we’d get a drink from their lounge but as the responsible and decent adults that we are, because we are not Mel Gibson, and if you are around Mel Gibson and he is around alcohol, you should just save everybody time and call the police. By the time you hang up the phone he’s going to be cursing Jews and stomping on houseplants like he’s King Kong all the while panting and screaming.

We made it into Moonshadows, feeling very grown-up, which is different from feeling very adult. We didn’t feel, “Ugh I wonder how much valet is going to cost and how much these drinks are going to cost” or anything of that nature. We felt, “Man, we look so cool. Are we allowed to even be in here? This is like being in a Bret Easton Ellis novel.”

And then it really got into Bret Easton Ellis territory. We’re sitting at a small booth and to the left of me is a very cool old woman. Cool in a different cool than we were. She was an established, kooky, “Fuck it, I’m old” cool. I noticed the owl pendant hanging around her neck. I told her much I liked it. She seemed thrilled by this. I really adored her. I thought she looked familiar but maybe I just wished I knew her.

Then it started. That beautiful pop new wave sound, with bittersweet undertones, all in earnest, of “The Promise” by When In Rome. And a bride and groom were dancing. It all happened very suddenly. The song, perhaps a dimming of lights, the swelling of joy — this was their moment, they must have planned it. And they’re dancing in the middle of this lounge, mouthing the words to each other, blissed out of their minds. I stared at them, respectful, slightly confused, but quietly enthusiastic. They saw me and smiled. The groom looked into my eyes, and said, with more joy in one sentence than I’ve heard in hundreds, “I’m marrying my best friend.”

My cynicism halted. I smiled back. I promise you, I promise you I will was all I heard and all I saw. Later my cynism about marriage would return, replaced with a bitterness once I watched helplessly as divorce took another marriage away, all the while with me stubbornly refusing to ever get married, ever.

I do want to get married. I don’t know if I want to marry my best friend. I’m still unsure about that idea. That the person you marry should also be your best friend. But that’s not important right now.

Ever since that night, I’ve fallen in love with that song. I hear it and even though I’ve forgotten what the couple looks like, I see them dancing, laughing, holding onto each other, have an occasional goofy moment, lip-synching, smiling endlessly.

I was so full of joy that I asked the kooky old woman next to me if we could take a photo with her. She seemed shocked and said, “Really?!” I said definitely. “Let’s go outside,” she said. She had a friend with her. “Do you know who that is?” she asked me. I paused. Yes, I knew now. “Phyllis Diller?”


And yes. She was.

“You made her night,” her friend told us. “She made  ours,” I said.

We took more photos, got into the car, and drove with the windows down back to where we once belonged. I looked at the ocean and in my head, over and over, If you need a friend don’t look to a stranger. You know in the end. I’ll always be there…I promise you. I promise you I will.

And that’s how I accidentally went to a Malibu wedding. Sort of.


The Promise by When in Rome on Grooveshark


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Sex, dating, and marriage survey of 2012. OMG. is one of the many Internet dating sites that I’ve helped friends with; by which I mean, making over their dating profile. Because being single sucks. Or, it does for me. Most of the time. Probably because I need so much attention.

“Constantly talking isn’t necessarily communicating.” — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Since 2010 has done studies on singles and married people, asking them about what they want, what they have, and what they need. This year I’m bringing some of those stats to you, via Singles in America. singles america

Anthropologist Dr. Helen Fisher lead the study of 5,481 single people, spending 12-14 hours a day analyzing her data. I feel like if you’re single and/or have single friends, we all do that in some way or another. Analyzing our data, and our friends’, and whatever we need to do to feel normal.

So how do we, (and by “we” I mean 20 somethings, but if you’re over 20, I still love and adore you, ASK YOUR DAD, the implication being that I had sex with your father, it’s a bad joke), feel about marriage?

kennedy wedding

Over 2/3 of men and women in their 20’s want to get married. Can’t help but wonder what if the question instead was, “How many of you want to get divorced in your 20’s?” 82% of women in their 20s wanted to get married. 67% of men do.

Weirdly, or weirdly to me, these numbers drop in the 30’s to 78% of women and 64% of men. I thought it only went up the older you get, especially with women. That’s what the movies and the television shows tell us. Except for Sex and the City. Actually, no, wait, didn’t they all wind up married at the end? Except for Samantha I guess. That Samantha! She is a PISTOL! So why is it that the stats go down? Is it because people get married in their 20’s, get divorced and think, Fuck it, I’m buying a boat? Can anyone explain this from personal experience?

Henry Groskinsky


Here’s something that shocked me from this study. Really, really surprised me. Did you know that the first thing both men and women judge when they first meet someone is their teeth? I always assumed my entire dating life that it would be how fat or thin someone is. But apparently it isn’t, at least not in 2012 when this survey was taken. So good news if you’re fat! You’re gonna be fine! What do you see immediately about someone you’re dating when you first meet them? Guess what else is important to people? GRAMMAR! YEEEEEAAHHHHHHH! That’s not a joke actually.

90% of people asked, “Do you believe that you can stay married forever, to the same person?” answered yes. YES! YOU IDIOTS. THE MATH DOESN’T ADD UP. THE NUMBER OF DIVORCES IS TOO DAMN HIGH!

Melina Mercouri

OKAY, LET’S GET TO YOU SLUTTY SINGLE SUPER PEOPLE. 45% of you had a friends-with-benefits relationship that turned into a REAL THING. And Dr. Fisher says, “I’m not surprised. Because any kind of sexual stimulation of the genitals drives up dopamine which can push you over the threshold into falling in love, and with orgasm is a real flood of oxytocin that is linked with feelings of attachment. Casual sex is NOT casual unless you’re so drunk you can’t remember it.”

mod sqaudI hear you there, good doctor. Being really drunk is like time travelling. I think I just accidentally made a Dr. Who joke. And this is where she said something REAL interesting to me: “maybe we’re in a new stage of courtship.” Dude, I said this way back when I started my blog. I said this in my THIRD POST. It’s TRUE, DR. FISHER, IT’S ALL TRUE!

So what do you guys and dolls think about all of this? What are some dating or marriage trends you’ve been seeing? Do they reflect this study or are you reading this and as puzzled as Cogsworth when Lumiere cooks up one of his schemes to get Belle and the Beast together?

I think this study is interesting as hell, and I recommend you watch Dr. Fisher’s talk here. It was a livestreaming video so the quality isn’t the best, but it’s worth watching/listening to, because holy fuck, it really surprised me.

(Oh, and for all you sexters out there, don’t be too hard — omg that’s what she said — on yourselves if you’ve sexted because you are so not even close to being alone. 35% of women say they’ve done but, oh my God, we all know it’s higher. It’s such a thing now that Match made a short vid about it. Check it out below. There’s another stat in there that may or may not embarrass you.)

This post was sponsored by As always, all opinions are my own, for better or worse.


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The wedding trap.

pattie boyd and george harrison

Oh look we're all happy and shit now but then I'm going to leave my amazing husband for his shitty friend Eric Clapton which is the stupidest decision because who leaves George Harrison but damn do I love your wedding outfits.

It’s happening, comrades. My friends are getting engaged. Dear diary. As of this point in my life, I’ve had friends of friends get engaged, and friends of yore get engaged, but one of my best friends, my friend since kindergarten (that’s like, 20 years) is engaged, and that’s real. That’s a direct friend. That’s not like, oh, Lula Mae from Facebook that I had two classes with in college and saw her last year at a Brooklyn party and we spoke for twenty minutes, no. This is real. This is life.

I’ve blogged about marriage before. Here I am going mad over Will & Kate’s wedding. Here I am going on about how I want a wedding but not a marriage. And here’s a controversial post where I explain why I think you’re a jerk if you don’t give your guests a +1 to your wedding. You don’t need to read those first but if you want to, they open in a new window for your enjoyment, so have at it. Oh, one more. In this post, I explain why the marriage system should be like renting a car. There.

I am so thrilled for my friend. I am deliriously excited for her. I, of the Pinterest board “Wedding Insanity.” Because I really, really do love weddings. And I love people who are in love and want to get married. I just fear it for myself. It’s a trap. And the trap is the party. The dress. The food. The attention. That party is to me what mousetraps are to mice. But there’s no cheese before my sudden end. Only marriage. That frightens me.

Things change after marriage, they do. Having not been married, I do not know exactly what changes, but I’ve heard the experiences from those wiser than I, and I have some common sense, so my idea is that after marriage, you’ve gone from Oz back to Kansas. You’re muted. You’re so happy to be home with your Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, but the days of munchkin lands and yellow brick roads and trippy poppy fields are behind you now. Your new life is in that farm, with a family. Even if you don’t have children, you’re still a unit.

Children. I do not want children. That is a different post.

I want to be in love. I want someone to be in love with me. I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said, “Do not fall in love with a man who doesn’t make you feel like the most awesome, incredible, baddest bitch on the block.” Those of course weren’t his exact words, but the sentiment was the same. If I had that, and if I had money (because I think it’s just stupid to get married if you’re poor, but that’s another post), then I could do it, I could go to Kansas.

But for now I’ll stay in Oz and screw around with brainless scarecrows and heartless tin men and cowardly lions while wearing fabulous shoes instead.


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Will & Kate & Apocalypstick

You guys. YOU GUYS. I cannot get over this Will & Kate thing, I really can’t. I am like, mourning their wedding. I want it to happen again. It should be a series. Each episode they have a different wedding and at each one Elton John sings a different version of “Candle In The Wind.” I love it all. Except Pippa, I don’t really get Pippa. Is she going to be a thing now? Can we not? She’s not as plain as Kate but not in a cute way, so what am I supposed to do with her? Kate’s plainness is her appeal. Pippa’s is her downfall. Who am I talking to?

I said in the past that I want to marry a prince, but really what I want is attention and security and money and a pretty dress and a big wedding and a catch of a husband BUT THERE’S NO POINT BECAUSE THEY ALREADY HAD THE BEST WEDDING EVER SO I’M JUST GOING TO GIVE UP. They WON at weddings. Minus ten points for The King’s Speech rendition of Kate’s Jolie brother-like brother’s reading but he was probably super nervous. I know I would be. Just kidding, I would be so drunk it would be awesome. I’d be like, “lol Posh Spice why are you here?” And I would actually say “L-O-L” instead of laughing, because I Am Internet.

What is wrong with me? Why am I so fascinated with someone else’s wedding? WHY AM I EXCITED FOR THEIR FUTURE TOGETHER? WHY DO I WANT TO RELIEVE THEIR SPECIAL DAY? At least I have that Lifetime movie about them. Or I did, until I moved. You can’t take your DVR records with you. My life is really hard, guys. I panicked when I thought I didn’t get OWN here. Turns out, it is here. But it’s just not enough.

Does anyone else feel this way? Or am I totally royally bonkers?


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