Tonight I am going to be a Maid of Honor. I was never a MOH(Maid of Honor) b4. And frankly, being anyone’s maid is NOT an honor in my book. I looked up my duties. For a minute there it all sounded like fun–a bit kinky–in my mind’s eye, I was purchasing a Maid’s outfit complete with a feather duster, and looking, well…slutty. Right–Halloween doesn’t come out in August, nor am I a porn star. (Awww…lol…I am an amazing thespian…talent gone to waste, I tell you.)
My friend told me I am supposed to walk down the aisle with the Best Man (Wikipedia didn’t mention that–is she changing the rules??? Wikipedia is my bible today….Well, the ones I pick I will stick to=0) who is ANYTHING BUT THE BEST OF MEN. The little I spoke to him, he couldn’t make eye contact–he was too busy undressing all the chicks and MILFs and the Engagement Party. He was a Bulemic Moment waiting to happen. If he has to walk down the aisle with me, I hope my stiletto doesn’t crush one of his male chauvenistic metatarsals.
The color scheme(see??? the word scheme gives it away…something is rotten in the State of New York) is brown. No waaaay. I have a few designs that are so minute on my gown that even G-d would need to put on His reading glasses to see em. I am in all black…Love it!
The bridesmades dresses are not only satiny, they have an additional irridescence that make even the most anorexic of them all look morbidly obese. I guess there are perks to being a maid. And stubborn.
One of my jobs apparently was (whoops!) to organize a bachelorette party….Oy vey. I would have jumped out of a cake, but wouldn’t want to have the bride go into cardiac arrest right before her nuptuals. And a Chippendales-looking male? I wouldn’t want to cheat on the guy who I was dating, that I told you I broke up with….
I will tell you in my next post how I fell worse than ever….
Gigi, so witty! So cool! Such a faker.