The Ubiquitous Bridal Bad Hair Day

This has been all over You Tube and strangely, most major news outlets, so I figured it was my duty to cover this. This is the unedited, extended version with all the dramatic, hair pulling, screaming fits intact. God help the groom.

Is it me, or does she look like she could be Rachel Griffith's twin? It's a shame Six Feet Under is over, because I could totally see "Brenda" having a similar meltdown, only with many more F bombs and witty rejoinders in between the shrill, screeching parts.

Thriller redux

Because I felt so terrible about yesterday's gloomy post, I couldn't wait to make amends and post today's little gem. I don't know who this couple is, all I know is that the groom won the cointoss when it came down to who got to pick the couple's first dance. I say this with the teensiest bit of jealousy because I clearly remember suggesting that C and I do the same thing at our wedding reception and I just got a look that suggested it wasn't too late to tug that ring of my finger and head for the hills. I just love the fact that this clearly took some rehearsing and practice amidst all the other wedding insanity.

May this cleanse your brain's palate of anything having to do with Chinese farmers killing prostitutes to make them ghost brides and enjoy!

Not a happy Monday kind of ghost story

Late last year I mentioned a story that the NY Times ran on the Chinese tradition of "minghun," the morbid but absolutely fascinating practice of locating dead would-be brides for dead bachelors in order to accompany them along their journey into the afterlife. Recently the Post followed with this latest story, a piece on the shocking and incredibly depressing consequences of what happens when there is a bride shortage for said bachelors.

If you're looking for a happier way to start your Monday, run hereimmediately.

Engaged and Underage

Uh...has anybody caught this latest gem on MTV? I missed the premiere on Monday, but if I know MTV, they will helpfully rerun it about 46 times between now and dinner. We'll just have to make do with the train wreck of a trailer for "Engaged and Underage."

Oh good lord.

When I was 18 I was "pre-engaged" to my high school boyfriend. It's an extremely embarrassing thing to admit now, but you try telling an 18 year old with a spray of tiny diamonds on her left hand and the promise of sex all the time with her high school husband that marriage might not be such a stellar idea. I'm not even sure what pre-engaged means. It sounds like the lawaway program at Wet Seal, where you make occasional $15 payments toward that sparkly floral minidress with the side cutouts. Fortunately, because we were high schoolers, we fought about everything and never made it pass the "pre" part, making our parents just about the happiest folks on the planet. Looks like these parents might not be so lucky.

Bollywood wedding!

When I lived in Los Angeles, my husband and I spent a greater part of our lives there at Electric Karma, sustaining ourselves on the impeccable chicken tikka masala, volcanic samosas and delectable garlic naan, all washed down with a hearty dose of Bollywood musical performances. Electric Karma was never a place to go for serious conversation as it was nearly impossible to rip your eyes away from the gorgeous men and women onscreen who used shoulder shaking, hip swivelling and wrist twisting to determine everything from marriage proposals to who would get to drive the Mercedes to work that day. As time progressed, the movies fell victim to Pussycat Dollification, where the heroines clothes shrank, the heels grew taller, and the once quaint courtships onsceen now resembled Carmen Electra's Striptease workout. But never with Aishwarya Rai. A former Miss World, Rai is the darling of Bollywood cinema and considered by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Ridiculously but refreshingly chaste in her films (let it be said that I have nothing against women reveling in the power of their sexuality), but by refusing to join in the sweaty fray, Rai instantly classes up the joint, a mere lift of her eyebrow communicating more sex appeal than a troupe of line dancing Hindi can-can dancers.

And now Aishwarya Rai is engaged to the Brad Pitt of Bollywood, Abhishek Bachchan.

All of India is in a giant tizzy over the speculation. This delectably worded report on the Bachchan's personal astrologer suggests that a giant wedding - and copycat Bollywood production - is coming soon:

"There are lots of speculations floating about the possible day of Abhishek-Aishwarya's marriage, but if the Bachchan's family astrologer Chandrashekhar Swami is to be believed, the wedding will be held before March. Bachchans have been in close contact with Swami since the day first of the Abhishek-Aishwarya marriage process starts. Even the engagement, which took place on January 14, also is as per Swamy's advice.
And Chandrashekhar Swamy thinks the wedding will be held in February. In an interview to a Karnataka based newspaper, Swami said Aishwarya's mangala dasha is now over and therefore no more delay is needed. "Aishwarya Rai had some problems in her kundali but now they have been removed. She does not have mangala dasha now . I hope the wedding will be held on February 19 as has been advised by me earlier. Conducting the wedding after March may not be a good idea," said Swamy."

I don't know what a kundali is, but I'm glad hers is doing better.

The Name Game

New Year's Eve has never been a big deal in my household, but this year, my husband and I decided to try and instill some fun, new traditions. Somehow this resulted in our playing rock-paper-scissors for the dubious title of Master of the Household for the year ( I say dubious because I won for 2007 but have yet to see any spoils from my victory). I'm not even sure what Master of the Household means, and if it entails having to start changing the lightbulbs above the kitchen island or walking the dog after dark, I may happily relinquish my title.

Rather than settle their debate with a little rochambeau, this couple resorted to creative means to resolve who would be Master of the Household for Eternity, er, who would be the one to take the other's last name. Judging from the photo, the "loser" doesn't seem too disappointed. I have a feeling if it had not been Marshall but say, Grumplegortz, this match would have seen a much different ending.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year! I hope 2007 finds all of you rested, relaxed and ready to take on the year ahead. And don't think because it's a short work week or you're still stuffed with peppermint bark and turkey that I'm gonna go easy on you today. Oh no, we're jumping in, feet first, specifically into the balmy sea that laps against Phuket, the alleged site of the most ill-advised nuptials to take place this year.

Good lord. We still have 363 days to go.

p.s. That first photo of the newlyweds? That may be the first time Mr. Moss has looked somewhat presentable, and by presentable I mean not bleary-eyed, sweaty, bloated, pimply and all those other traits that somehow work their collective mojo on one of the world's most famous supermodels. Masel-tov!