While certain wedding traditions have meaningful roots in religion and culture- the Italian chair dance, the breaking of the glass in Jewish ceremonies- the garter toss is simply a time-honored tradition in tackiness. Seriously, I don’t want anyone lifting up my goddamn skirt in goddamn public. There is a time and a place for cheeky sex-play, and the presence of my entire extended family and my husband’s family that I’ve only just met is clearly not it.
So I’ve decided to dedicate this recurring column about tacky, ill-advised wedding trends and ideas to the infamous garter toss. After the jump, yuppies maxing out their self-indulgence allowance, and a head-scratching hipster homage:
Like most brides, I’m signed up at the Knot.com. They do have some useful tips and planning features that are helpful. However, I reccommend staying out of the Knot’s message boards unless you’re really into unchecked Crazy. I mean, their boards give you the status option of “Not Engaged… Yet!” Seriously, you should recieve a monogrammed airsickness bag as a free gift for signing up at the Knot. Anyway, occasionally they send out some unintentionally hilarious articles in their promotional emails. This is the best one I got this week:
Ideas for Table Names
Apparently just numbering the dining tables is not good enough for Today’s Individuality-Minded Bride, so the Knot to the rescue! They suggest some resonable ideas for memorably marked tables, and some other truly emetic themes that even Disney wouldn’t touch. (What follows are approximated images from the Knot’s slideshow. Why? Because they’re bastards who won’t let me lift images from their site. )
For the Self-Impotant Outdoorsy Bride
It’s a really cool idea to name your tables after favorite vacations you’ve shard with your sweetheart. If you’re laboring under the delusion that anyone cares to see your vacation photos.
For Posiibly the Dorkiest Couple to Ever Convert Oxygen Into Carbon Dioxide
This one needs the on-site description to do it justice: “Katie and Ryan’s table numbers, which were designed to look like Mondrian replicas, were uniquely personal. Instead of sequential digits, each table number had special meaning: One table was labeled 26.2 to represent the Columbus Marathon the couple had run together; and another table was 107,501, the official capacity of the University of Michigan stadium.” Hoe. Lee. Shit. These people must have thought their guests were constantly giggling because they were just having thatgood of a time. I’d feel sorry for these two schmucks if they weren’t such sad, sad douchebags.
For the Couple Who Just Don’t Get it That Guests are Really Only There for the Free Food.
“At the reception, Valerie and Ben’s guests solved a riddle to find their places at tables named for different artists, with a small print of a painting by each set up on each table.” OK, the artist idea is good. Very good. And the riddles would be kind of cool if I didn’t know how impatient and hungry weddings make people. seriously, after sitting through the ceremony and then the invariably slow processional to the reception location, people just want some damn shrimps on sticks. And to deprive them of that for the few moments longer it takes them to suss out a riddle on empty stomachs and low blood sugar is just going to make them hate you. For realsies.
For the Dog People
We get it. You love your pets. But a picture of your damn dog on every table? Give us a fucking break.
Again With the Vacations
Your vacation postcards? Oooooh! I’m only saying this because it’s the truth: people don’t care. Unless they went to fucking Napa with you two and tasted the same wines and stinky cheeses that you did, they don’t give a crap about your romantic tour of the Wine Country. And they’re only asking about it to be polite. Rekkonnize!
And, my pick for absolute worst:
For the Hipper-Than-Thou Bride Who Grossly Mistakes “Style” for “Taste”
Are you fucking kidding me? Framed photos of Twiggy, Edie and Andy Worhol at your wedding? Do you seriously think your great aunt Edna knows who Twiggy is? And do you think that the members of your family who actually know who Andy Worhol is will appreciate staring at his ugly, pockmarked mug while chawin’ on some overcooked brisket? Bad form, doll. Yes, you’ll get cool points with your loft-dwelling friends, but think of your parents. Whenever you’re not around, they will forvever have to endure questions about the Drug Addict Gallery at your wedding, because somewhere in your family, chances are there’s a pervy uncle who watched the Ciao! Mantattan Tapes just for the titties. But who gets all the blame? Not you, not your Uncle Roger, but your long-suffering parents who probably paid for your hipster circle-jerk of a wedding anyway.
Please share tacky wedding stories or leave me hate mail in the comments.