Drone Groan

This happened in the newspaper this weekend and reminded me why I started wedding blogging in the first place. It’s unicorn barf for men!

Kevin Good thought there was an 80 percent chance he could successfully deliver his brother’s wedding rings with a tiny drone.

“The other 20 percent is that it could go crashing into the bride’s mother’s face,” the Bethesda ­cinematographer somewhat jokingly told his brother.

His brother was okay with those odds, so he signed off.

Nothing says “I care about my guests ability to have a good time at my wedding” more than a good possibility that one of them — your mom — might get drilled in the face by a robot.


Wedding Blogging, the Aftermath: I’m a Wexpert Now

To my surprise and somewhat narcissistic delight, I’ve actually received a few emails from readers who aren’t my mom who are asking, “So, now that you’re married, will you continue to blog about weddings?”

I guess so? I mean… I’m a wexpert now, right? (That’s “wedding expert” written by an incredibly lazy typist, and you’re welcome.)

Or… perhaps more enjoyably, as somewhat of a comedy writer, the wedding industry remains an easy target. After all, it writes itself into the butt of all jokes. For instance, take this piece of important journalism, brought to us by the E! network’s website. The serious investigative journalists there asked a wedding planner named Mindy Weiss to give a few pro-tips for having the best wedding ever, and her No. 1 rule is “Don’t lose the rings!”

Groundbreaking! In fact, now that I’m a wexpert, too, let me add a couple of tips to the list:

1) Don’t forget to put clothes on!

2) Don’t forget to show up!

Actually, fuck it. Even if you forget to put clothes on, your wedding will probably be fine as long as you (and your future spouse) show up. Really, once you remember the point of your wedding—to get married—nothing should phase you. In other words, everything the wedding industry tells you to worry about (the dress! the cake! the guest list! the food! the invitation! the fucking rings!), is a sham. It’s all a made-up game to get you to plunk down more money on more shit you don’t need and/or care about.

What’s funny, though, is that of all the tips most wexperts give, very few seem to remember the most important one (but that’s probably because their jobs depend on you freaking out about stupid shit): 


Here’s little secret shambles that went down at my own wedding: my maid of honor (aka, best bitch) lost my vows about an hour before the ceremony.

Now, according to the wedding industry, I should have…

I should’ve immediately ended the friendship, cried in the corner and called the wedding off.

But instead, my reaction was more like…

I must say, I was remarkably calm… like, out-of-body calm. Now, perhaps it was because I hadn’t eaten in three days or slept in, like, five. But I honestly did not even flinch. I just reminded myself that as long as I was to be married at the end of the day, everything would be a resounding success, “perfect” vows or not.

Literally, save for an asteroid falling to Earth and actually preventing the wedding from happening, anything that the industry promises will ruin your wedding is small and inconsequential. Even losing the rings vows.*

Here’s a list of other stupid stuff that happened that, according to many wexperts, should’ve devastated my day:

  • This might be TMI, but I  didn’t get a chance to cut my toenails, which meant… ugly toes! (I’m the only one who noticed.)
  • Another wedding imperfection: the bus that transported most of our guests was late, which delayed everything for about 45 minutes.** (We ended up getting our a partial refund.)
  • I also felt a zit emerging on my nose. (There’s make-up for that.)
  • My dress was wrinkly in the front because I didn’t get a chance to steam it as properly as I would’ve liked. (Who cares?)
  • I cut my own bangs the morning of the wedding… and didn’t do that professional of a job. (Well… that was just kind of dumb.)
  • My veil kept falling off. (Put that shit back on.)
  • Etc. Etc. Etc. (Whatever.)

I did not care. And you will not care about dumb shit like this at your own wedding (and yes, something, anything will go wrong). In the end, though, if you focus on the most important goal of the day—getting married to the love of your life—I promise you, future brides (and grooms), your day will be outstandingly great. Just check the asteroid report beforehand.

*Consequently, about five minutes before the ceremony, our officiant came through with an older copy I’d sent her previously, and I was able to wing my changes quite gracefully.

**We ended up getting half our money back… not that it really made a big dent, though.

And Then We Made the Mistake of Finally Adding It All Up…

What would you do with $37,000?

In retrospect, I definitely wouldn’t have spent any part of it on $180 balloons.

*punches self in face*

How did this happen? Well, weirdly (albeit unsurprisingly), I’m the only one confused. My now-husband was not surprised by the number at all. Me? Shocked. Clearly… something happened here. For one, we (or probably mostly I) didn’t keep track of exactly what we were I was spending while we were I was spending it, which means a million little things like, erm, that time I spent $180 on fucking balloons (*dropkicks self in teeth*) or shelled out $500 for personalized cat stamps and napkins (although, I have no regrets about that one) ended up adding up. Big time.

Of course, let not our my money shambles go to waste. Let us take my mishaps and turn them into sound advice for those planning to wed in the future. Yes, friends, dig up those old Casio calculator watches from the ’90s and keep track of EVERYTHING while you’re planning. Because that ballpark figure you thought you had in mind along the way? It’s bullshit. Also, if you can, avoid credit cards and use straight cash. That way, you have no choice but to limit yourself and your unicorn barf whims.

Speaking of… I feel like such a hypocrite. This blog is called “The Anti Wedding” after all, and goddamn it if I didn’t throw…a fucking wedding. Thirty-seven-thousand bones is about as pro-wedding as they come.

Then again, aside from those idiotic balloons (*slap*), dang near everything had meaning to it. I mean, you saw some of the pictures, right? So, perhaps I’m still just a little bit credible? Maybe? Anyone?

Or I guess I can just think of it like this: memories are priceless or at least worth multiple thousands of dollars I’ll never… ever… get back.

Yup, we’ll go with that. In the meantime…

Hopefully the bar accepts credit…

And We’re Back…This Time With More Visuals!

But not without regrets. Luckily, though, said regrets aren’t about the marriage, but the length of our honeymoon. While we know it can’t last forever, I highly recommend a three-week minimum. While 10 days seemed like a lot when we booked our flights, once you subtract two days of international travel, a few more hours for time readjustment and even more hours planning our trip on the fly (another piece of advice is to plan where you’ll be staying every night ahead of time), suddenly all those luxurious days off are dwindled down to what seemed like just a long weekend.

Obviously, this isn’t the worst problem to have, but in the realm of “First World Problems,” it’s a recipe for disaster… OK, that’s an exaggeration, too. The honeymoon was pretty much the opposite of a disaster, but going back to daily life after being stressed to the point where you’re actually now thinking Botox isn’t the worst idea ever (stress makes crazy wrinkles, ya’ll) feels pretty shitty.

Alas, such is life! Pretty shitty! (Hey, you don’t direct your browser to this blog for the optimism.)

Speaking of shitty… the bills. I am so embarrassed, but obligated to report that we went WAAAAAAAYYYYYY over budget. (Goddamn wedding dollars…) And this is considering we allotted ourselves a budget of $25,000—twenty fucking five thousand fucking dollars—and we couldn’t stay within that budget. (Although, I guess, it could’ve been worse…) The biggest bite (and you’ll get that pun now) was our catering budget, which clocked in at around $15,000. I don’t even have the exact number because that’s how organized we apparently were. I guess having an Excel spreadsheet isn’t really a useful unless you actually use it…

Yes, future bitches getting married (and I mean that lovingly and in a non-gendery kinda way), don’t rely on a broken abacus your cat dragged out of a former-Soviet elementary school dumpster to keep track of your funds. More importantly, make sure you and the person you’re planning to wed constantly communicate about who is dropping what on whatever, when, where and why. Because after the wedding, when you turn to your new spouse and say, “I can’t believe we pulled that off on our budget!” and he or she returns with, “Um… is this your first time reading numbers?” it’s kind of a buzzkill.

That said, at least the wedding is over, which means I can go back to worrying about more important things, like, how to get out of crippling debt after having a fucking ridiculously expensive wedding…

And thank you notes. Those are also very important.

But first, more pictures to remind us this was the best day ever, courtesy of our photographer extraordinaire, Dakota Fine of Dakota Fine Photography, whom I highly endorse and recommend.

ImageGoal accomplished: I felt comfortable and could walk in both my dress and shoes.

ImageGoal accomplished: we had a great guest list and a damn near perfect venue for our aesthetic.

ImageGoal accomplished: the only place, it seems, we saved money were the centerpieces, which consisted of 99¢ Goodwill vases and Whole Foods flowers purchased the day before.

ImageGoal accomplished (although this one wasn’t hard to achieve): my mom looked awesome.

ImageGoal accomplished: my cute-as-hell nephew almost stole the show.

ImageGoal accomplished: GOT MARRIED!

ImageGoal accomplished: we recited heartwarming, personal vows that made people happy, including both of us. (I will publish the vows in a future post.)

ImageGoal accomplished: I surprisingly held my shit together that day.

ImageGoal accomplished: THIS PHOTO.

ImageGoal accomplished: first look captured!

ImageGoal accomplished: I guess our first dance felt more awkward than it looked (THANK GOD).

ImageGoal accomplished: our music mixer for the night, DJ G (another one I highly recommend), kept the dance floor bumpin’.

ImageGoal accomplished: dope pictures on the carousel!

ImageGoal accomplished: I made the boutonnieres. *high-fives self*

ImageGoal accomplished: I also made the motherfucking bouquet. *nods with lots of smugness*

ImageGoal accomplished: I have a favorite photo.

ImageGoal accomplished: I have another favorite photo.

ImageGoal accomplished: I have lots of favorite photos.

We Did the Damn Thang!

I will go through the grueling details of this most righteous occasion in the future (when I return from a much-needed vacation, aka honeymoon in the Scottish highlands without teh Internetz, but for now, here are a couple of pics from two of our more webbed up friends, the lovely and incredibly smart and beautiful Glory Edim and the venerable, always well-dressed Greg Rutter and his equally admirable wife Aubrey.



awesome lighting




P.S.: The dress is by Mara Hoffman.

P.P.S.: And yes, in the end, the wedding was worth all the aggravation, especially when your friends send your husband (and that felt a little exciting to type) feedback like this:

I really got to hand it to you and Marissa. Your wedding was a refreshing change from so many I’ve been to in the recent past. You made it about the people, about you and Marissa, and about the marriage. These are the things that are lost at so many weddings. It turns into too much of a production and the true meaning of the day gets lost in the show. From you selection of the location, the music as Marissa walked the aisle [Intro by The XX], the vows, and the ceremony itself; to the food, music, bar, and celebration; we had such a blast in such a comfortable way.You know how opinionated I can be. I was so impressed with your wedding and have no constructive criticism to offer. It was a perfect day.

P.S. Including the presence of Humps [our cat, Humphrey] was brilliant.

P.P.S. The style of your beer selection and design was original and fantastic. [We chose beers from every place we’d lived, from England to Russia to DC and more.]

P.P.P.S. You have forever changed the meaning of XX’s “Intro.” I played it for my mom the following morning and unexpectedly got choked up. I couldn’t even explain to her how it went down because the music sent a wave of emotions through my body I was not expecting to feel. I played it again when I got home to see if the feeling lingered and I got the chills once again. Just writing this email has my hairs standing on end. That’s power. You nailed it.

The Goddamn Bouquet

As I near the ZOMFG-this-wedding-is-one-week-away-and-sheeeeiiiiiitttt-there’s-still-so-much-to-do-because-we’re-idiots-and-decided-not-to-just-elope mark, one thing has become very, very clear. Fuck decor, including all the flowers.

While I’ve figured out the table junks (99¢ Goodwill vases paired with farmers’ market scraps), the bouquets for myself and my best bitch, as well as the boutineers for the mothers and the mens, at first seemed like a professional matter. Unless, of course, everyone was gonna be happy with holding potted plants and pinning leaves on themselves.

But after visiting a flower shop and having the woman behind the counter look at me sideways when I inquired about bouquets for my wedding, which yes, holy shit, happens to be next week (get over it), and more importantly, having learned the prices of a professionally crafted bouquet and single-flower-attached-to-a-pin boutineer, I made the executive decision to just DIY that nonsense. Plus, this looks relatively simple.


If that doesn’t work, then we’ll just gather those tree branches and leaves on site and…

 photo Tim-Gunn-MAKE-IT-WORK.gif

Three Versions of Someone’s First Dance Song

What’s your favorite Elvis?

But, no, this will not be my first dance song, but it would be if I was marrying Elvis in 1968. Also, I’ve somehow become obsessed with Elvis in the past two weeks. It’s weird. We were all warned we’d eventually become our parents… but… but not this soon. I guess I’ll have to start referring to 50 Cent as “Fifty Cents” now. And pointing out the difference between regular Walmarts and SuperWalmarts… THE SUPERWALMART HAS GROCERIES!

Remember Those Wedding Clogs I Was Contemplating?

Sure, I have some semi-respectable almost wedding-like heels for the ceremony, but for the rest of the night? You know, the part when I’ll want to dance and not be thinking about how much my feet hurt?  I wasn’t joking about those wedding clogs. But I did end up going with another color. Mainly because they’re even more awesome and they go well with many of my high-waisted ’70-inspired mom jeans ensembles.


And because I only got them for about 30 percent off (my gold standard is at least 50 percent), I’m assuming they will also go well with my now very empty wallet. Then again, my mind is still adding things up in wedding dollars, really, these were less than $3.

And if you don’t agree? Well…


Have a nice day!


The Mission Will Be Accomplished

The Mission Will Be Accomplished

And if I had to give the Montgomery County Courthouse a Yelp star-rating, it’d be four. Minus one for the metal-detector-chic decor. Every thing else, though? Since the other party to these nuptials is out of town at the moment, I was able to roll in solo with a copy of his license, my license our SSNs and a check for $55, and voila! Less than 30 minutes later, shit just got a lot more official. Well sorta.

Now, here’s to hoping I don’t lose this piece of paper between now and May 26…