Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Living in Utah, I attend more than my fair share of Bridezilla weddings. Of weddings seemingly designed to test the obedience of the future husband and the patience of all human beings in the county. Of weddings that make the drinkers drink a lot and the non-drinkers, well, also drink a lot.

A cousin of mine held one such a wedding. Hand-calligraphied “save the date” cards were sent out the year prior. The bridesmaids had to attend a “spa weekend” so that they’d all have matching hairstyles, makeup, spray tans. They’d been coached for months to what size to be at and to dear GOD not get pregnant before The Big Day.

You can see where this is headed.

The event was held in June on a golf course in the desert of Southern Utah. Every able-bodied guest was coerced to carry their own crucifix chair out to the no-trees-to-obscure-this-beautiful-view-aren’t-you-so-impressed ceremony site, a ledge overlooking some rock formations. Because of the view, the bride had opted to have no tent or gazebo that might detract from the experience. The old joke is always about rain at the wedding, but rain would have been most welcome. (So would locusts.) The sun shone so fiercely that the flowers started to wilt. The children of the wedding party were pink and cranky hours before they were supposed to skip down the aisle. There was nary a man to be found with the mental fortitude who could keep his tie and jacket on.

But the Beautiful Bride would not be dissuaded. There would be no moving the ceremony indoors, even though the clubhouse had been secured for the mandatory dance party afterwards. Parents began toting their children off to the restrooms, rubbing ice on their scalps and making promises of Disneyland and ponies in return for a few more minutes without a tantrum. The bride’s uncle bribed a busboy to run out for a cold case of beer which he proceeded to sell surreptitiously for $5 a bottle. Lies, bribery, the black market. Civilization brought crashing down by tent oversight.

There’s no need for this sort of insanity. Unless your party favors are mini bottles of aloe vera, if you’re going to hold an event outdoors you need to rent a goddamn tent. There’s seriously no excuse. Cost? Convenience? Here, I’ll make it easy. There’s a service on the Interwebz that brings renters and rentees of things like giant tents together so you don’t have to bother with the trouble and expense of an event contract just to rent a shade-maker. Check out for a perfect example of such a thing.

As far as what to do with the scheming uncle? You’re on your own there.

Disclaimer: the reviews at Aiming Low are paid but the opinions belong to the writers, as do the martinis 
photo credit: 96dpi

About OnBlank

Kristina is a type-A lunatic and a culinary klutz. She has many opinions, most of them about bread. She's awesome at setting nachos on fire and drinking beer. This in mind she's the brains at the food blog She dabbles in graphic design, self-help writing, bad poetry and working her husband's wood. (No really, he's a fine woodworker. You know, like a carpenter? Sha...buncha perverts.) She live-tweets meltdowns at @onblank and is always trying to keep her cheese from slipping off her cracker.


  1. LMAO I HATE the heat. I would have told that Bridezilla where to go, given her a map and taken back my gift.

    That is NOT COOL.

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  2. ChrisBird says:

    Haha, I had to get my wife reading this. She’s a wedding photographer, and she’s seen some warm days, but it doesn’t get desert hot here.

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