mnvnjnsn's Diary To contact send email to mnvnjnsnATSIGNgmailDOTcom. 2005-11-29
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Letter to a Git I attended a wedding this weekend, the marriage of sister J to new brother-in-law P. It was a lovely ceremony at a small, British themed P, B & B (Pub, Bed and Breakfast). The groom looked fantastic decked out in a full authentic Scotsman's kit, even down to the mystery of what he wore under the kilt. The bride wore a simple emerald green gown with a sash of her betrothed's tartan. It wasn't a Scottish wedding, per se (no pipes, no haggis, no sea monster), but it was beautiful in its simplicity and stayed true to the nature of the newlyweds. And then there was Estelle. I will now write a letter to her, using her real name so she can find it if she self-googles. Dear (and I use that term loosely) Celeste Q. Graham: I hope you had a nice time at J's wedding. It was certainly nice of her to invite you. J always has been the most tolerant of you. It's a shame, though, that you felt the need to take advantage of her good nature and show up to her wedding dressed like a douche bag. Let me explain. There is a fairly common sense of decorum when one attends a wedding. One does not wear the same thing as the bride. One does not try to dress to a theme unless requested to do so by the bride. And one especially does not ignore a direct request from the bride not to wear a goddamn kilt and tam o'shanter to her wedding, for fuck's sake. It seems strange to have to remind a grown woman of this, but unless the occasion is your birthday or your wake, the party is NOT ALL ABOUT YOU. Guests dress nicely to a wedding out of respect for the institution and/or the betrothed. It is not a free spotlight for you to show off that stupid generic tartan you bought twenty years ago when you went through your Scottish phase. As a man much more graceful than I put it, you're as much a Scot as Queen Victoria was an Englishwoman. I see it more like the last time you had *any* Scots in you was just before your husband died. P was celebrating his family's heritage, and welcoming J into their clan. You wanted to feed on attention refracted off the bride and groom. 'LOOK AT ME,' you fairly screamed, 'I'M SPECIAL BECAUSE THEY'RE DRESSED LIKE SCOTSMEN AND SO AM I. PLUS, I HAVE A HAT WITH A PUFF BALL ON TOP. LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!' Not once, but twice you were told that wearing a kilt was probably bad form in this circumstance. The bride herself told you that women don't wear kilts unless they are playing the pipes or drums. While your vocal styling could be considered somewhat bagpipe-like, that doesn't count. You don't wear a cap and gown to someone else's graduation, you dipshit. Everyone in my family is too polite to say this to your face, so this entry must suffice: Your attendance at every family function is onerous, but your pathetic, self-aggrandizing appearance at the wedding was graceless and ridiculous. You disregarded several polite attempts to steer you away from your trip down Narcissus's way and then added a stunningly stupid-looking hat. You are truly lucky to have my mother running interference for you, and even more so for pulling this stunt at the wedding of the one least likely in our family to stab you with the cake knife. I would have kicked you in the balls and fed you to the rottweilers. Very sincerely, Emily New! See the outfit HERE!! 20:13 - 2005-11-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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