Although I probably shouldn’t write this, knowing a surprising amount of people I know in real life read this blog, I can’t help myself. I blog. That’s what I do. And panic. Yes, I blog and I panic. Or maybe that’s the other way around.

Yes, friends, both e- and IRL, it’s crunk (<— that’s a typo, but I like it better than “crunch,” which is what I meant to type, so it stays) time and the thought of all the remaining nitty-gritty that needs to be done is literally making me physically ill. One of the biggest, albeit insignifcant-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things concerns now is figuring out how to decorate the venue we chose (a national park) that doesn’t allow nails, tape or anything else that could remotely harm the interior of structure. So… what the fuck is one to do?

Well, the easiest option, of course, is nothing. Unfortunately, that’s not the most visually appealing.

And so… I can’t believe I’m about to type this… I’m zeroing in on… seriously, I can’t believe I’m about to type this… balloons. Yes, bitches, balloons. Filled with helium and weighted down with sand, these air-filled orbs sound like a simplest solution for our decor problem. Unfortunately, at first thought, they also seem like the tackiest. I mean, look at this mess:

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May 12, 2001, was a dark day in history, indeed.

Alas, just because the medium lends itself to horrendousness, doesn’t mean it can’t be tamed. After all, television airs both “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” and “Mad Men.” One of those things is clearly more tasteful, and less embarrassing to admit you watch than the other.

While my dream balloon decor would obviously be AN EXPLODING BALLOON WALL (the definition of elegance), I’m pretty sure in a structure that doesn’t even allow masking tape, anything with the word “exploding” in the title probably wouldn’t fly. And so, we may just have to settle for oversized hipster balloons. DON’T JUDGE ME.

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Except I won’t be buying these ones since they’re, like, $65 apiece.

JUST KIDDING. I’m totally going to get two of those. Hell, it’s under two wedding dollars. Sounds like a goddamn steal to me right now.

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