It’s not you. Wait, never mind, it still could be...I’m also from the South and now living in New England (burbs of Boston). Up here they either look like they’re bridesmaids or way more casual than I remember from the (gasp) early 90s.

I pick not being told I’m an asshole by self-centered self-righteous parents who think the entire world should fuck off to accommodate their special snowflake. That attitude is as bad as a screaming child. Worse actually.

I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Clearly Equity Residential has never heard us white ladies after a few glasses of Pinot Grigio. Or white guys with craft beer and insert sporting event here. Or, you know, just whenever. Because what the actual fuck?

Meh. I’m still voting for him.

He’s a very cultured Cocker Spaniel. Except for the junk licking. He’s also kinda cranky. Love him to pieces though. The other dude is his big brother, Oscar. Oscar will start having seizure like happy fits if you sing Insane In The Membrane to him. We'd probably have a lot to answer for if they were actually…

That would be awesome.

You have something there. You're right.

My dad has always been critical of me, he’s not sentimental, and has a hard time expressing feelings. However, on my wedding day he pulled out all the stops and wrote the most touching and beautiful toast.

This is true. I posted the list of the weirder ones already, but here they are again:

Why does everyone assume I meant the proposed to and not the proposer? Most of my friends are guys, so it would be far more likely that the friend in question would be the proposer. I didn’t state either way.

Damn it, you people do NOT understand that some of us are taking Chantix and the freaky nightmare potential is like a million times worse than usual.

The cake is merely an excuse for the bride and groom to have a sharp knife on hand.

I bet you're right.

You assumed I meant the woman that was proposed to. I meant the dude proposing.

Oh no. Just no. If my day was already ruined by this kind of asshattery, I’m afraid my Emily Post manners would go straight into the shitter over this. That friendship would certainly be over too.

With God on retainer, who needs lawyers?

That’s the pragmatist in me. She has every right to a sense of humor about her job. It’s just unfortunate that you can tell people to lighten up or to suck it over stuff like this, but how often do they change their tune? Never, so humor is wasted on them and a shitstorm develops from a tiny raindrop.

My mother would have sent her a bottle of Scotch with an apology. Seriously.

I think my first sentence said that in a different way. I'm a pragmatist for the most part and know full well you can tell people to suck it, but the reality is they aren't going to. Which is why my second comment was better safe than sorry and lock that shit down.