Three Splendid Years!

Source:  www.wegmans.com

Even amidst all the chaos of the wedding planning, there's still time for a little fun.  My little lady and I recently celebrated three years of dating!  Who says the romance should be dead at this point?  I am here to report firsthand that it is alive and well!  I prepared a delicious feast for her (who doesn't love grilled cheese?) and we washed it down with a champagne toast -- a bottle each of Andre Brut AND Cold Duck!  Although, if I learned anything in my Beer & Wine Appreciation class, I know that neither of those is actually champagne.  Shhhh, don't tell her!

Following the meal, we exchanged gifts.  I hope you like your T-shirt, darling!  And thank YOU for such a great present!  Nothing says "I'll love you more when you're not so fat" quite like a gym membership!

The Merger

Source: http://musicalstewdaily.wordpress.com/

It has more to do with this marriage than you'd think.

Big East pride has flowed through my veins since they pulled me from the womb.  I took my very first breath on the Syracuse University campus on the weekend preceding the all Big East NCAA basketball tournament championship, when Villanova upset Georgetown to cut down the nets. Sometime later, I would return to Syracuse for a brief five years, where I would end up meeting half of my superhero groomsmen, and my beautiful Bride-to-be.

Where was said Bride-to-be for her undergraduate career? The University of North Carolina. Gross. Fortunately, though, our beloved Alma Maters have rarely played each other in their prideful basketball programs, leaving little contention between my lady and me in the past few years (just one single, noteworthy game).  It was no joke when I proposed the wedding colors of powder blue and orange, in honor of our schools.  Again let me say, the powder blue was a concession on my part.

Now my Orange have betrayed me, and left a so-called floundering conference. I concede, it was the only move we could make, as someone from the Big East was definitely going to abandon us.  We didn't want to be left playing DePaul and TCU. We had no choice. Yet, these words are like alcohol on a big gaping wound. They help, but it still hurts like a bitch. And now, the Syracuse Orange are a part of the Atlantic Coast Conference.  The ACC is known for a helluva rivalry between two podunk schools on filthy little Tobacco Road. Tobacco will stain your teeth and rot your heart, my friends.  So will those slimy NC teams.

The irony is, the only silver lining I've found in this cloud of a merger is the fact that the Orange will be sticking it to the Tar Heels and Blue Devils on a yearly basis.  Though, as said by the Grateful Dead, "Every silver lining's got a touch of grey." One to three times a year, depending on tourney play and scheduling, our Holy Matrimony will be raked over the coals when Syracuse and UNC collide.  All I can hope is that our marriage has more of a backbone than Big East ship-jumping Syracuse.

The Necessity of Engagement Photos

When you're engaged, odds are you're planning a wedding. When you're planning a wedding, odds are that you've set aside all of the fun things you and your best gal/guy fell in love doing, and you've started, well, planning a wedding. So what better way to commemorate this period of engagement than with photos that will last a lifetime? No better way.

At first, being so angry, I was skeptical of these engagement photos. Then I realized, there are still a few glimmers of happiness left in this relationship, even amidst the wedding planning. Better to capture them now, than wait until they're gone for good! So yes, darling, I will take these pictures with you.

But don't ask me where and when we should do them. On a beach or in a car, I do not care where the hell we are. As a matter of fact, I don't even care if we are in them. If you want to get down to the real nitty gritty, I don't think we should be in them! Conventionality is dead! That's why we're switching it up: An Engagement Diorama!

This afternoon I will head to the Play-Doh store, where I will pick up all of the necessary colors of Play-Doh to create the most beautiful, picturesque engagement diorama this side of the other side. I already have the shoe box. With Play-Doh, our love will know no bounds. We can go anywhere we want! Wear anything we want! BE anything we want! The true American dream. Plus, since neither myself nor the Bride have any artistic talent whatsoever, no one will know what the pictures are!

It just came to my attention that I have absolutely no idea what the point of engagement photos is. Do other people even see them? And if so, wouldn't they rather see cool, badass Play-Doh people, rather than faces they've known for years?

So why trek to some romantic bluff overlooking some romantic sunset over a romantic ocean with romantic dolphins copulating at high tide? We could spend a day - nay, 2 days! - creating memories that will last a lifetime while creating the first ever engagement diorama. And when we look back in five to sixty years when this romance has run its course, at least our Play-Doh likenesses will be smiling.

Source: http://blog.timesunion.com/

Just Say No to "Say Yes to the Dress"

...Because it isn't a good show. At least not if you care about your time. Problem is, it's always on in my house. Between my gal and her weird, new, out-of-nowhere obsession with white dresses, and my roommate's new aspirations of being a wedding planner, I can't escape this Godawful show.

Let me try to explain it to those of you that have never heard of it. A bride (generally a lady, sometimes not?) goes to the Bride-clothes store with a group of her shrews and usually her madre, and she gets into different wedding dresses and everyone says what they think. Makes for riveting television, let me tell you. I have no idea how it ends, because somehow I am always able to pull myself away from its black taffeta hole. I guess in a lot of cases the bride ends up getting a dress.

Harmless enough for whatever estrogen-laden cable channel it's on, but of course they take it a step too far. Last week, the bride's mother (who never had a proper wedding of her own) decided to slip into a wedding dress that she was going to wear to her daughter's wedding. That sick, sick woman. In another case, the groom came along for the ride, and was making the bridesmaids try on hideous clothes. Bridesmaid A, the bride's sister, was reduced to tears! Tears!!

TEARS!!!!

To pay him back, the stylist or costume man or tailor or whatever the dude is called made the GROOM squeeze into a dress. I managed to escape from such an intriguing story line because I had something better to do, like take a crap. Actually, now that I think about it, the show may have acted as a catalyst for my BM. That shit was flowing.

And now that you're thinking about poop, you have an accurate depiction of what "Say Yes to the Dress" is really like.

The Groomsmen's Attire

From the first day of this engagement, the Bride made it clear that I have only 1 - count it, one - item of control in this whole planning process, and that is the cake. Now, don't get me wrong, I love cake, but this is not my only area of expertise. Fortunately, the Bride was a little shortsighted, and didn't realize I get to choose the groomsmen.

After much debate, it appears that we (she) have (has) chosen the wedding colors. I didn't get the Syracuse Orange I was so adamant about, but I'll deal (and let's get something straight here, when I offered powder blue as an option, it was only to appease the Bride).

So now we have to find some clothes that are good enough for the group of badasses that will be standing up next to me. These are no ordinary men, people. They are superheroes, and they deserve to be dressed as such. No, I'm not talking about capes, although no one has ever looked bad in a cape. I'm talking about a suit that speaks volumes about the man who is wearing it. So look no further:








Source: http://www.yankeesmall.com

Obviously I know what you're wondering, my dear, old Bride. Why did I forego Roger Maris and a complete lineup of single digit legends? I'm just hoping whoever ends up in #42 will get the ultimate save, and whisk me out of the church before you show up.

All joking aside, darling, what are your thoughts on capes?

To The Bride

To My Dear, Sweet Bride,

You know how I feel about you. That's why I've started calling you "My Bride" instead of "Some Broad." You also knew what you signed up for when you said "Yes." So now, a month into this engagement, with approximately nine months left until this knot is done-and-tied, I'm going to be airing out all of the wedding planning bullshit on here.

Don't get me wrong, sugar-pants, I want you to have the wedding you've always dreamed about, and I want to be a part of the planning process, but there's only so much time I can spend debating the pros and cons of wedding colors without losing my mind. Thus, I've taken to bloggers' catharsis, rather than passive-aggressively rolling over onto you and smothering you to death while we sleep (an accident, I'm sure).

So, in conclusion, asking you to marry me was undoubtedly the best decision I've ever made in my life. As for the rest of these decisions, well, in a year we'll just be joshing each other about what a long, arduous process it was. Until that time is up, though, I respectfully reserve the right to rant and rave to anyone who will listen.

Love Forever,

Your Angry Bridegroom