America's favorist wedding bloggity

It's another stunningly perfect day here at My Special Fucking Day: America's favorist wedding bloggity that oozes with more creamy wedding goodness than a discarded condom on a gay porn set.

Us dopey chicks are sitting around here at the office, with our fingers jammed up our cooters, simply amazed and overwhelmed at all the submissions get each day. We are so blessed. We thank each and EVERY one of you for submitting, and SOOOOOOOO wish we could accept every SINGLE  photo you send on. We TRULY mean that. But as you all know far too well, we only want to repeat the same type of images repeatedly, since most of our blog readers have no fucking clue and take everything we show them as wedding gospel. One day we might be interested in all-things Ochre & Rust. Or perhaps pretty, happy balloons with Rococo striped hand-twisted paper straw handles. Maybe Tuesday it'll be glittery slipperettes that entice us...and Wednesday it may well be miniature hollowed-out pumpkins coated in chocolate attached to adorable kittens. Regardless, we will feature only what makes us moist, and then forget it all in 2 days.

Which is why today we are SOOO amazingly HONORED and blessed to share Lilac and Earl's once-in-a-lifetime completely unique 1940's-homespun-vintage-instagram-lumberjack-circus themed wedding. We have never seen a wedding so pretty or a couple so happy. We just wet our collective UGGS a little thinking about it...

This stylish pair met in Brooklyn while Lilac was working at her exclusive boutique selling moss-encrusted pot-holders. Earl at the time was an assistant to NYC's top Circus promoter before moving on to a lucrative position as owner of a one-man-band. "We wanted to have this wedding really say who we ARE," commented Earl, "..so we decided to go with our 1940's-homespun-vintage-instagram-lumberjack-circus concept. We now it's been done, but it's really US!"

To compliment the dreamy Lumberjack/Circus theme, this cutting edge couple brought in top NYC wedding designer Rosa Megablatt. Rosa initiated an enticing color palette of milky beige, snappy tangerines and shit browns. "Since we had 2 live elephants for the evening serving drinks, we wanted the colors to reflect what the guests would be walking through all night on the ground. Those fuckers shit a LOT!" she comically muses in her thick Yiddish accent while stifling her giggles with an ironic hand-embroidered kerchief from a Nazi Death Camp.

"I am really excited for this wedding night," proclaims Earl wearing a vintage green and persimmon bow tie and top hat from the year 1659 and suit made entirely of Hemp with crafted buttons made of vintage twine, "... Lilac told me she might let me fuck her in the butthole! I am so blessed." Lilac overhears Earl and delivers a demure smile, "...You SEE?! I TOLD you: I am the luckiest girl in the world!" she says sitting on her antique hand-carved acrylic Greco-Roman ivy-covered throne. "Why, i'm not even wearing underwear!" Her 29 bridesmaids all chuckle in delight and hilarious abandon at how perfectly silly their panty-less friend is.

Miss Megablatt smartly incorporated miles and miles and miles and miles (literally, there were about 25 miles) of stunning, sustainably-harvested burlap from Lilac Fathers Idaho Burlap farm (www.burlap-smells-funny.com), and more mason jars than at a back-alley basement abortion clinic. Overhead hung twinkling candles, actually held aloft by hovering dwarfs wearing futuristic jet-packs covered in lime-green chiffon and organza ribbons. The tables were wrapped in pale rose sequined tule, making eating impossible: but not to worry, as Rosa brought in 25 underage children from Haiti to hand feed the guests. How comical they were, dressed as various circus nymphs and side-show attractions!

Some of the breathtaking food included a molten cotton candy volcano station, French-Style whipped clams and peanut butter served in hand-knitted woolen pouches and a bubble gum and vodka mashed potato-bar. While the men enjoyed cigars and an indoor shooting range with live Elk, Female guests were treated to individual elegant engraved vibrators... in the wedding colors of course! The list of adorable details simply goes on and on.

It was simply a dream come true for both this amazing, blessed couple as it was for us to present this incredible adjective laden blog post of which you will never again see the likes of - until maybe tomorrow.

Cheap and Cheaper

These days things have really started to go off the deep end. Couples come to meet with you wasting your day when You could be watching HBO, spouting off about what a wonderful guy their friends told them you were, not to mention all the AAHHH-MAZE-ing photos their seen in the walls of pals and pages of Facebook. But then the reality monster sets in, there eyes chalk over like a monster in a Hammer film from the 60's, and they look like they took a hit off a crack pipe when you discus your pricing options (or "Investment" if you want to be a fucking prick-tool and sound all pretentious, like they money they give you will go to feed wild pigeons in the Mississippi Delta, rather than pay your Macy's CC bill) These motherfuckers just sucked 90 minutes of my life verbally stroking my penis to only THEN slam me with the 'what can you do about the price' bombshell. I'll tell you what I can do for you: NOTHING, you stingy prick-hole!! I've got staff to pay, taxes to try and catch up on, household expenses, a car thats on its last leg---need I go on? So unless you grab my cock REALLY hard and keep jerking me off until i plop my hot load on your fiancees 'wedding planning binder' - you can take a fucking hike, No-Deal, Discount Boy.

I'm tired of it. TIRED. So very, very sour and tired. I'm tired of it nearly always being the same story we must repeat over and over. It never gets easier. When do I sit back and enjoy all of this? EVER?! Defending ourselves to the same questions about problems some OTHER idiots perpetrated on THEIR clients, to which WE now must defend and promise will never happen again. Once upon a time I believed that work gradually grows and changes and gets better. Jobs come in more easily. Your reputations follows suit. You are hired for expertise and knowledge. You finally get away from answering the basics you've answered the last 25 years. I can relax and rest on my laurels. and peoples past experience making my job easier. I would NOT have to spend each 'mis-season' wondering if I would ever fucking work again You've 'made it'!

What an asshole I am.

It only gets worse. Those cunty brides are fickle. The even CUNTIER bridal magazines cram their skulls full of unattainable wedding-dreams which makes our job more , rather than less difficult. And the more semi-part-time-weekend mommie newbies there are; baby sucking on a tit in one arm, Canon RebelX-p1 Deluxe with F2.5-5.6 Kit Lens in the other,  out there shooting any shit that moves or looks Pinteresty, the more deadly the scenario becomes.

But the clients are not much better. Recently on facebook, a gal posted that her client was PISSED she couldn't get her in for the family session she hoped for, as she NEEDED the photos and had a gift certificate. The photographer says, "i'm taking time of." To which the custoCUNT says, "You're taking a vacation NOW?? Why not wait until after the holidays??!" SO as if thats not bad enough, she finally reveals she's not 'vacationing' and luxuriating on a fucking beach, but having surgery. The douche-nozzle replies, "Well is it SERIOUS, can it WAIT?!"
I TOLD HER TO REFUND THE WHORES MONEY AND TELL THAT TWAT-BALL TO GO TO HELL. WHAT DISGUSTING NERVE! What pack of wolves raised someone that ignorant and uncaring about someone having fucking surgery to even THINK those thoughts?! Maybe she can shoot from the ICU unit if they're lucky. Do a whole tropical take on "The Descendants" and hope she dies for extra drama while George Clooney sits there weeping?

I dont know - it happens each and every year around the holiday - everyone goes insane...and maybe the thought of handling it again is wearing me down. But you gotta watch your step photo consumers  -- keep pissing us all off and we will all retire at once and you'll be stuck with little 5 year old Patty and her Fisher-Price point and shoot---which you know, you probably would think looked fairly good after you had your shitty CVS prints made.

So why am I even bothering?....this little bitch has it all figured out already---and looks a lot happier than we do doing it with the way things are going.

2 Flowers Ruined My Wedding

You know there are 2 types of stupidity- there's 'stupid' and then there's FUCKING DUMB CUNT STUPID

heres a recent email a fellow photographer received---

"We have been showing my family/friends the pics you sent. They are so fun to look through... I'm really loving the pics around the city and all the partying on the dance floor.

I was really hoping you could help me out with something. I have expressed my concern to florist regarding this issue even though there is nothing that can be done to change at this point. I am concerned that I have a polka-dot effect in my bouquet. There are 2 hot pink roses that clash drastically with the ivory and other lighter shades of pink that were used. I only wanted the ivory roses, very light pink roses, and greens to create a more soft, subtle look. I am really keeping my fingers crossed that you can soften the hot pink in the photos. Particularly of the ones where I am walking in and out of church although if we can do to all where it seems more obvious, it would be tremendously appreciated. I am trying so hard to not let this ruin how beautiful everything turned out to be. 

Look forward to hearing from you. Thank you so much"

Honest to fucking Jesus...are you kidding me? A couple of flowers brighter than she imagined for the last 3 years planning this fucking train-wreck of a wedding is NOW going to 'ruin' everything?

[I might add I have seen the aformentioned bouquet, and I can hardly tell what this crazy hooker is talking about]

I mean - how do you even process that in your head? All I keep thinking about is the poor new husband and the shit he is in for if this matrimony sham lasts for more than a year or 2. Why didn't she just yank the motherfuckers right out of the bouquet that day? And what good is telling the florist NOW several weeks after the event? I'll bet her cooter was wet the day of when all her stupid, dopey bridesmaids were OOOing and AHHing when the flowers arrived, declaring them the most beautiful thing on Gods Green earth. Now - suddenly - they suck.

I tell you what REALLY sucks now: YOU

I chalk this up to simple Wacky-Post-Wedding withdrawal, as now you actually have to live your boring day to day life rather than a manufactured fantasy-world. Now you are no longer a Princess each day.  Now, not everyone is going to pay attention to you each and every second.

Now - you may have to acknowledge your husband.

So listen up Little-Miss-Fantasyland: just fucking get over it. There's nothing you can do now and there are more important Life Issue than the color of a couple of godamn flowers in your cheesy-ass Stop and Shop bouquet. No one noticed the day of. No one cared or cares. The wedding day is over.

And so is your poor husbands life.

Donner Party: table for 1...

PRO UPDATE 2017!

This venue has been taken over by caterers  who know what they are doing (finally!) and the food is absolutely delightful! HORRAY!!!!

Well the good folks in the vomitorium they call at kitchen at this well known waterside venue in Westport CT have outdone themselves this time around with their latest Vendor Meal concoction. Behold this slab of horror, which one can only presume is a human thigh or buttock. Gaze upon its rich golden urine like iridescent hues, which are so commonly found in meat products. Wonder in wide-eyed amazement how one can get something that was once alive to look like it's been dead for several years on the roadside.

What you cannot see is that under the chunk of gore sits a horrified heap of mushy mashed potatoes, hiding out for their lives wondering what they did in life as a gentle Idaho spud to end up suffocating under this heap of unidentifiable flesh.

And a couple paid for this--just keep that in mind.

Please Sir, may I have some more?

Well this is nothing new but of COURSE we were not fed this past weekend at yet another fancy-fucking-pants golf club. Well - I suppose 'technically' we were....well, read on...

Earlier in the day, when i arrived at the brides house there was a huge spread of fruit, sandwiches, snacks and shit. The mother, an under-nourished over-tanned handbag of a woman, said not "Why don't you help yourself to a sandwich." but rather, "You should get shots of the food spread."
Really, you Leather Cunt? Thanks for offering. I'm not hungry after my 2 hour drive. It's fine. Really.

That put aside, that evening AS I'M SHOOTING, the huge, sweating cargo-truck of a man catering manager whispers in my ear (as i gaze longingly at everyone's surf and turf) "Hey! I have a sandwich for you in the other room." No kidding? Let me drop my camera right now because that sounds so fucking enticing. "I'll get it and bring it to you." he says. I get a boner right on the spot in the middle of the dance floor, and start touching myself, I'm THAT excited.

Said sandwich never materializes, and as i'm about to wrap up for the night he says, "HEY! Did you ever eat?" Ummm, did you BRING me the sandwich, Jumbo?

I say, "I'm really ok, I ate the one I brought."
"No,no!", he insists, "It's still good. Tell you what, I'll package it to go and out it by your bag." So now I feel a bit (only a BIT) bad because he's actually being nice.

And as a huge fatso, you KNOW this guy likes to eat.

I walk over to my bag to see a tempting styrofoam container, which as i pick it up is at light as a feather. I open it to find a grade school proportioned sandwich, delicately cut on the bias to make it fancy. For a moment I assumed Gigantor ate the rest of it, but no. It was just a wee little thing. Hobbits eat larger portions. I've flossed out larger servings of meals from between my teeth. Along with Le Petite Un Sandwich was a bag of chips smushed in there as well for additional nourishment. I could barely contain my excitement. My erection returned. How would I finish all this? AND I get to walk out like early-bird douche who could not finish his omelet and asked for a take home container. How humiliating.

And so in the end, there really is no final punchline to this story, other than the fact that more often than not the nicer the place, the worse you get served. THAT and the fact that many people who are Golf Club members and thoughtless assholes.

Craisglist Cunt

So this has been all over the internet like wildfire today, and this enchanting blog seems the perfect spot to highlight such an article. Please read then come back. We will wait...

http://seattle.craigslist.org/kit/evs/2804332414.html

OK- so without going into what the actual cost of doing business as a wedding photographer is, I will just say that no one, as far as I can tell, is holding this cheap redneck hostage in her Double-Wide forcing her to spend $3000. There are PLENTY of sites and photographers offering their services at a cut rate. Sometimes because they are starting out. Often just because they suck, but regardless--the options are available. If she would put down her Silver Bullet ( beer/ Vibrator? ...who knows, could be either) long enough to do some research she would see this is the truth. Turn on that dial-up, pop in that AOL floppy disc, and look up 'Budget Weddings' Or maybe, "Cheap-ass wedding photos"--anything will likely yield a result to compliment your Piggy Wiggly wedding bouquet, Payless Shoes and KFC Catering.

Ahhh--imagine the lucky guts that get to revel in the splendor of your Special Fucking Discount Day...most of whom you have slept with in order to raid money for the event of the milemnnium.