Before you can begin your spiel they start talking about this and that.
He is yawning.
She still won't make eye contact.
She looks like a horse.
You begin to try and answer a question.
Mid sentence, you get interrupted.
That happens numerous times.
They ask a completely unrelated question.
Moments later they say how you haven't answered the last question.
You try to do that.
He says something unrelated once again.
She responds to him.
They go into their own mini conversation.
They finally remember you are in the room, look back at you and you start to answer.
They cut you off with another random question.
They inform you how organized they are.
The notes are written on a crumbled sheet of paper.
Your blood pressure rises.
They start talking about photos.
They infer that there are special people they want photos taken of.
They do not want groups, just want me aware of who is who.
'How will you know them?" they question.
You briefly consider making a joke about learning telepathy before their wedding day but bite your tongue.
They tell you how they "...don't want many formals but HIS side of the family is huge and they will need a photo of all of them."
"OH - and we will need multiple groups on my side as well."
But they do not want many formals, you see.
They ask if you can get all the formals completed in 30 minutes so they can attend their cocktail hour.
You tell them they are fucking bat-shit crazy.
They once again proclaim their love for their butthole venue, then mention how "the view is not that great and there seems to be no where to take nice photos."
Yet they adore their venue.
Super fantastic, you think. A picture-perfect perfection.
The venue is under construction.
There is mud all around.
She is worried.
Yet they ADORE their venue.
They wonder how you will handle that.
You try to answer, they briefly smile politely and then suddenly ask about albums.
They suggest they can do their own on Shutterfly.
They disagree as to which parent will want what type of album.
This goes on and on for an hour.
He yawns even wider and she starts looking more like My not-so-Pretty Pony.
You are hating them.
No-REALLY: you hate them.
You want them out of your studio.
You hope their 'perfect' venue burns down.
You hope she slips on aforementioned mud and breaks her boney-ass horse hip the morning of the wedding.
being an equine, she then then need to be shot.
You hope he cheats on her and brings the pregnant girlfriend to the wedding the day of and ruins everything.
You really, really, really really hope they would die, right here- right now in front of you.
Just keel over dead so you could bury them in the back yard, as no one would miss these 2 fucking pests.
I'm not bitter---really i'm not. But if you're in the wedding business you know how crazy it can get. And if you have a blog, you always have to be nicey-nice with everything you say...
Not so here, my friends. Post away anonymously and let it fly. It's time to let off some steam.
And listen - this is meant to be fun - so don't go gettin' all bent out of shape
