instead of the sugar cookie you crave, you eat a bowl of Fiber One for an afternoon snack and think, "MMMMMmmmmm, with enough Equal it tastes ever so much like Honey Smacks..."
Saturday, my fiance and I found ourselves at the Manhattan Mall for reasons too weird to get much into (namely, a downpour and an open bag of popcorn in our hands).
As we sat down on the rim of the mall's unused fountain to eat our Garrett's Popcorn (get the mix, get the mix, Oprah ain't kidding, this pig is addictive), we joined a group of rowdy Midwestern high-school tourists who were busy taking snapshots of each other in New York's most compelling tourist attraction, the Manhattan Mall basement. Shortly, a security officer came along to shoo them away. We sat there still, figuring as locals, we had a right to park our cans anywhere in the Manhattan Mall that we damn well pleased, especially since there were no signs reading "Please do not eat your delicious popcorn on the bench around our nonworking, eyesore fountain." But no -- the rent-a-cop soon got in our faces, shouting, "AM I SPEAKING ENGLISH, OR NOT?" as if we were a group of, I don't know, loitering teenage Mexicans? Si, senor, it was all very strange.
Since we felt compelled to keep shoving fattening popcorn into our maws and didn't want to sully the fine merchandise there with caramel and nuclear orange butter-flavor powder that quickly worked its way into our cuticles, we moved to the food court and sat down at a table. I soon noticed that the chap across from me was ranting to himself as the contents of an egg roll dribbled out of his mouth; the fiance suspected he was cracked out and seeing things. As we got up to leave, some raving voodoo lady standing by Sarku Japan (where I definitely recommend you get sushi someday) cackled at my fiance that he sure must "like the crazy ones. She crazy!"
Yeah, lady. I'm the crazy one.
And yet, my day at the mall was not nearly as weird as it must have been on the day that Improv Everywhere struck:
So I'm planning a wedding in New York. On a (by local standards) limited budget. And trying to make it nice, for all my out of town guests, retired farmers and such, who might not appreciate a keg and doughnuts party in the park followed by a viewing of Fuerzabruta, or some such thing that always pops up in conversations when people suggest alternatives for saving money on the reception that will will save you tons of money, allowing for a future down payment of six million dollars for a studio apartment in Bed-Stuy.
Nope, we're doing the church, the organ, the pastor, the cocktail reception and private club (seriously, on a limited budget. I swear). That's why I'll be trying to save money on other areas, like flowers, and plan to carry a head of broccoli down the aisle.
As a result, I've been reading some wedding blogs, mostly to try to figure out how to force vendors to give me what I want for half the cost of what they normally do. Which, by the way, doesn't work.
(Sample coversation: Me: Here's what I want. And my budget is [20% less than what it really is]. Vendor: You want that for HOW MUCH? The LEAST we can do it for is [40% over ACTUAL budget])
My key initiatives while planning the wedding are to stay as sane as possible and do as little as possible, lest I turn into bridezilla and go completely gray by my wedding day and scare away the fiance.
ANYWAY, I am a big fan of weddingbee.com, a helpful place to get advice and inspiration. But I"ll admit there are days I feel a bit alienated on the message boards. Because sometimes, it's populated by folks like this:
