Are you supposed to MST3K a wedding? I couldn’t help myself.
Walking in the front doors, I see a relative I haven’t seen in a while. A “Wedding and Funeral” relative. That kind. “Man, she looks like hell,” I thought. I think I should get some kind of point for not saying this aloud. Even as an aside. Anyway, I was taken with her hedgehog hat. Oh, wait, that’s her hair. Yeesh. The “highlights” sprayed on looked faboo. Again, yeesh.
Programs! Programs! Getch-yer programs! Can’t tell a bridesmaid from the flowergirl without a program!
If we could get hot dogs and popcorn, the whole ceremony would be much nicer. Maybe a “seventh inning stretch”. It’s a Catholic ceremony, by the way.
I walk into a sea of blue hair. I don’t descend from a svelt people. What to take my mind off this? Architecture? The church is a row of groin vaults. (See, I learned something in college Art History. Groin vault.) Groin vaults in the House of God. God’s groin vaults. God’s Groin. Groin, heh heh. “Groin” in Church, heh heh. I have a very low Amusement Threshold. And a low sense of humor. “Groin”, heh heh.
Wow, there’s some poofy hair. Nearly a natural shade too. That guy decided to show there’s nothing like a pony tail to really accentuate a bald head. Good look. Ah, Dad hasn’t shaved since he got back from vacation. So my complete lack of ability in growing facial hair is genetic? Huh.
The priest comes forward. Good, things are going to start happening. “Mah-wage is wut bwings us togevver, toodai…” OK, he didn’t sound anythinhg like that. He had a good speaking voice. But still, I thought it was funny. (“Groin”, heh heh.)
Wow, there’s a big butt on that bridesmaid. At least her dress doesn’t look like a slipcover. Actually the dresses looked pretty nice. (“Groin”, heh heh.)
Stand for the Bride. Sit. Stand. Sit. This is like watching the President give a speech. You gotta love a Catholic service. Or we’ll burn you at the stake! Ha! I jest. We don’t do that anymore.
I tried to think about what I was supposed to do next. No clue. I couldn’t remember a thing. But when the time came, I rattled off all the prayers and stood, sat, kneeled at all the right spots. Pavlovian Religion. (“Groin”, heh heh.)
One of the readings started (roughly): “And the mean old Pharasee tried to trip Jesus up in the Temple…” it went yammering on from there. Something about loving your neighbor, or some rot. I wasn’t paying attention. This is what I heard: "And the mean old Pharasee tried to trip Jesus up in the Temple by sticking his foot out in the aisle. Jesus was too wiley for that crap. He pulled a Jackie Chan move and back flipped over the offending foot. Hiiii-yaaaah! And Jesus kicked the crap out of the Pharasee. “Man, I wish I had my bullwhip like I used on those damned moneychangers. That would be so cool!” Jesus moved pretty good for a guy wearing a dress.
When they lit the Unity Candle, I thought they should have used sparklers. That would have been pretty. Yeah, there would have been a fire hazard with the froofy Bride’s dress, but think of the drama. Will the candle be lit? Or will the Bride go up in a shower of sparks? If anything untoward were to happen, we could toss her into the Baptismal Font.
At the end, they brought a flower for the Virgin Mary. That was some symbolic thingy. V. M. was halfway up the wall on a little shelf thingy sticking out from the wall. I thought the Bride was going to have to jump, and kinda dunk the flower into Mary’s plaster hands. They just left it on a table below her. I was disappointed. (“Groin”, heh heh.)
The next wedding I go to, I’m hanging out in the Cry Room. And I’m bringing Corn Nuts.
-Rue.
I don’t descend from svelte peoples, either)