4/15/99

The wedding shit hit the fan this evening. John and I were hoping to get away with a private ceremony, right after I moved down there, and then have a big party next summer. Not so easy. Our parents wigged out. His parents called him, he called me, I called my parents, he called his, I called him, it's now two hours later and the wedding's on. This summer. Like, three months from now. Fucking up my recital plans, vacation plans, moving plans...I suddenly see why getting married sucks. It's not about marriage, it's about a wedding. What a pain in my ass.

And at the same time, I'm relieved. No explaining to our friends that they can't come to our wedding. No chance of wondering, 30 years from now, what it would have been like to have a big affair.

Trying to think of alternatives to certain traditional things--like the cake. Big sheet cake? How about a nice wedding pie? Plastic bride and groom swimming in cherry sauce? And do I have to wear shoes? People will be upset if I try to get married barefoot, I guess, but those same people will be appalled by the fact that I'm taller than the groom. Damn straight. Not that I care--I wear platform shoes to make him look shorter. I don't want to get married in platform shoes.

I'm not going to get out of this ring thing, either. Apparently the engagement and wedding rings come in sets...?

Okay, fine. I'm a teensy bit excited. John made fun of me. He way made fun of me. I made fun of him for saying he didn't want "goddy" rings. "Goddy."

"Gaudy?" I asked.

"FUCK you! Goddy!"

"Haa HAAA! Goddy! Gaudy!"

This leads us back into our discussion of whether or not I will be laughed at when I get to GA. I guess I have a midwest accent, but geez. Is it that noticeable? I don't say "pop" or anything. At least, not all the time. "Gee, theenks! Theenks a laaht!"