I didn’t know that Catherine Deneuve married Wilson from “House”! Amazing.
Remember when I had my dream funeral? By the way, in the great migration from blogger to wordpress, all of my precious comments on previous posts were lost. I remember there being quite a few funny responses on my funeral post and I am practically inconsolable at having lost them. But life, like death, goes on. Mufasa. Or whatever.
I want to wear this:
For one horrible moment I thought it was sold out [note: at the time I wrote this, the dress was not sold out] and I was actually upset even though I AM NOT EVEN REMOTELY PLANNING TO GET MARRIED ANY TIME SOON. Anyway, if you buy that last dress, I’ll kill you. Seriously. I mean, you’re reading it on a public blog so you think it’s a joke but you’ll read about some poor slain bride-to-be and it will make you pause and wonder if I really did it. And I did. I’ll deny it. Then people will try to point to his blog to use it as evidence against me. I’ll say, “It’s just a joke! It’s a blog! Free speech!” But it’s really not, I totally did it. Then people will point to the sentence I just typed. I’ll still deny it. However if that dress or this one is sold out, I will have to make do and do what my Oma did at her second (or maybe it was the third) wedding and wear a t-shirt that says “Bride.” Seriously. Her husband wore one that said “Groom.” I think there were even “bridesmaid” tees. I would show you the photos but it appears that my uncle has them. My uncle lives in Silverlake and channels dead people. Or, specifically, one dead Scottish guy. BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.
Your choice of food at my wedding, as far as meat or vegetarian goes will be either In-N-Out’s burger animal style or grilled cheese. There will be animal fries. This part is not a joke. We will enjoy our In-N-Out with endless bottles of my favorite champagne, Veuve. (Hear that Veuve? I think you’re such an amazing champagne that you would elevate In-N-Out to culinary heaven. Following you on twitter was the best move I ever made. I was more excited to find that Veuve Clicquot was following me than Ellen Degeneres. Don’t get me wrong, Ellen, I love you. But I also love free champagne. Eh? Eh?? Think about it V. Just think about it.)
I don’t want any DJs. I would rather use my ipod. Or get Janet Klein and Her Parlour Boys, because nothing says PARTY!!!!!!!!! like a 1920s style band. Or I’m going to get Train but ONLY on the condition that they ONLY sing “Hey, Soul Sister” and “Drops Of Jupiter.” THOSE TWO SONGS ONLY. I don’t care if they alternate or if they play one 6 times in a row. IF THEY PLAY “MEET VIRGINIA” THEY’RE GOING HOME. ON A TRAIN. HAHA. BUT BY TRAIN, I MEAN BUS. Under no circumstances do I want Phil Collins. If Phil Collins is even near my wedding, the whole thing is off.
For favors I will be giving each guest one of my framed headshots autographed by me, with an inspirational quote like, “Keep reaching for that rainbow!” They might know me from such films as every student film produced by USC, New School, NYU, or The Los Angeles Film School. Let’s not forget those commercials I did as a little kid. You’re welcome, everyone. NOBODY MENTION MY APPEARANCE ON A CERTAIN E! REALITY SHOW. If you do, you’re tossed out of the wedding and will have to give Train a ride home.
I don’t really like cake so I’ll probably have pie instead. Or maybe just more hamburgers. I LOVE hamburgers. Instead of having the wedding recorded on video, I want it re-interpreted as a puppet show. Instead of photographs, I’d like a giant fresco. But not on my wall, put it in my parents’ house. For giggles, sneak into their house and paint it while they’re asleep. Then when they wake up they’ll say, “WHAAAAA??” and it will be like a hilarious misunderstanding as seen in “Full House.” Wait, that show was never hilarious. Forget the fresco. Who am I talking to, anyway?
My vows will be composed entirely of Simpsons quotes. Something like:
Good morning, fellow employee. You’ll notice that I am now a model worker. We should continue this conversation later, during the designated break periods. Sincerely, Homer Simpson. Sit perfectly still. Only I may dance. We should spend more time with Bart. He’s acting isolated…and weird. It tastes like burning. Slow down, you’re going to give yourself skin failure. Enjoy the show, for one day, we will all die. Ow! My Eye! I’m not supposed to get pudding in it! People, please! We’re all frightened and horny! But we can’t let some killer dolphins keeps us from living and scoring. Where’s Bart? His dinner’s getting cold and eaten. Do you take me to be your dental plan? [I do.]
Finally, you may have noticed that I left out the most important part of a wedding: the description of who I’ll be marrying. Eff that, I’m marrying myself. I just want the party.
And now for something totally unrelated, my friend Dave, one of the founders of the Dealbreakers Blog, is a finalist in something called the Function: Party Crasher Contest. Dave should win because he’s very funny and he’s a great guy and he’s totally going to buy all of us tacos. Just click here and vote for Dave Horwitz. You don’t have to register or anything. Also, Dave is probably not going to buy all of us tacos, but if he doesn’t win, we’ll never know. [Note: the contest has since ended. Dave did not give us tacos.]