Geeks need love, too, and one of them apparently needs the quirkiest engagement ring box in existence: it’s shaped like TARDIS, the time-traveling police call box from “Dr. Who.” So did she say yes? Or is she holding out for David Tennant or Matt Smith? [The Mary Sue]
Miley Cyrus, pop star and heir to the “Achy, Breaky Heart” fortune, has announced that, at 19 years old, she’s engaged to marry her boyfriend of three years, actor Liam Hemsworth. I have this to say: Don’t do it, girl!
And when I Googled “Liam Hemsworth” to find out who the hell this dude is, the first result was his official website, and the blurb excerpted is … an interview with Miley Cyrus. Friend, if you are 22-years-old and your professional career is already defined by your romantic relationship according to the seminal information provider of the whole internet, I feel obligated to pass along a ‘Don’t do it, girl!’ to you, too. (Jessica’s Note: He was also in “The Hunger Games.” I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of him!)
Now, I know that trying to dissuade smitten young people from making bad romantic decisions is an exercise in futility. Miley Cyrus is gonna marry this dude. It will happen. And maybe, just maybe, she will not be a twentysomething divorcee. Miley Cyrus, I hope you are not a twentysomething divorcee! I want your marriage to Liam Hemsworth to work out. I want you to be the happiest, most forever-married person in the world.
But if Miley Cyrus asked me — and she definitely did not — I would discourage her from getting married at 19. If any 19-year-old in the world asked me, I would discourage that person from getting married. Keep reading »
“But Andie, it’s your last chance at freedom!”
This is what my father told me when I informed him that I wouldn’t have a bachelorette party, and instead would go camping with Patrick and all our best Texas friends.
My dad was disappointed that his daughter wouldn’t be vomiting behind a strip club at 3 a.m. But I just got back from a wonderful camping weekend, and I’m confident in saying that I don’t feel any less “free” for opting not to spend a few hours in close proximity to a banana thong. Keep reading »
Of all of the many things I worried about before our wedding — dreaming of accidentally getting huge, hideous chest tattoos or enduring painful silence at our karaoke reception — one thing that never occurred to me to worry about was, “What if our wedding venue falls through 20 days before our wedding date and we have to find an entirely new location at which to get married, two hundred miles away from where we live?” I should have known better. Keep reading »
On Saturday morning, Patrick and I were enjoying some delicious breakfast tacos when I got the greatest e-mail of my life from Susan, my person of honor at our wedding: in the next week, we should be watching the mail for the trampoline the wedding party bought us.
Yeah, you read that right: the trampoline the wedding party bought us! Tramp! O! Line!
I could hardly contain my excitement. I read and re-read the email over and over again. I envisioned the giant trampoline in our backyard, and the afternoons we’d spend sunning and jumping on it, and how our backyard parties were about to get approximately a million percent more fun, and how oh my God, we are going to have a trampoline!
Because of course we put a trampoline on our wedding registry. Why not put a trampoline on your wedding registry, if you have the choice between not putting a trampoline on your wedding registry and putting a trampoline on your wedding registry? Keep reading »
The State of Texas, beautiful and God-blessed land led by the white conservative men Jesus always intended it to be led by, rewards people who go to premarital counseling. The prize? You get to waive your license fee and don’t have a three-day waiting period between obtaining the license and getting married.
I discovered this fun new law while checking out marriage licenses generally, and learned that as of March 1, 2011, Texans getting married can either pay an increased fee for a license or get their asses to a counselor for an eight-hour course that will allow them to waive it.
The program is called, barfily enough, Twogether in Texas. I figured hey, if we can waive the fee and get counseling, that might be kind of cool. Of course, it’ll have to be free counseling because otherwise, there’s no money saved in waiving the fee. And we’re sure not paying a stranger hundreds of dollars to tell us we love each other and agree on major life issues like children (not for us, thanks), money (let’s make a reasonable amount of it and share it with each other) and religion (we’ll pass). Duh. That’s why we’re getting married. Keep reading »
When Patrick and I got drunk at the lake and decided to get married, we announced it to our friends a couple days later like the classy, plugged-in media power couple we are: via mass text message. Exclamation points. That kind of thing.
The congratulations came flooding in. A couple folks even called. It made me feel like the most important person doing something totally boring and normal in the whole wide world.
But the response I was really worried about getting, and the response that kept me glancing at my phone for validation, was one from my best ladyfriend Susan. I didn’t know what to expect, because I knew Susan hated weddings and wedding-related culture and generally always has a shitty time at weddings. How would she react to me, her best friend, shoving her into the center of a swirling, twirling wedding maelstrom?
“Awwww!” she exclaimed. “Awwww!” Keep reading »
I started having emotional breakdowns about a month into wedding planning. Sweaty palms, heart racing, knees weak, teary eyes, total immobilization. I would find myself staring at a web page filled with tiki torches or green bridesmaid dresses or centerpiece ideas, and I would just stop dead in my wedding tracks.
It became the worst when Patrick would ask me for ideas or advice. Two questions in a row about the wedding and I’d be a shaky, sweaty mess. All of a sudden, my mind was deluged with worst-case scenarios and paralyzing fear of judgment from others. How do you plan a party everyone has already been to before, but also make it the paragon of amazing loveness that super-embodies the perfect lovey-face of your wonderful and unique relationship?
Moreover, will our venue let us put party lights up and what if we don’t have party lights and we trigger Armageddon right then and there?!
Wedding planning is the worst. Keep reading »