The Wedding Register

Kissing Cousins

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 14:22:00 +0000

Courtesy of Mental Floss, here's a rundown of famous folks who took the kissing cousins notion a bit too far. And by "bit" I mean really ickily over the line.

Wedding Bells

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 19:30:00 +0000

Live long and prosper, you crazy kids.

Do you think Leonard Nimoy gets annoyed with Mr. Sulu cribbing Spock's signature move?

When Girl Power Attacks

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 15:31:00 +0000

A French court recently ruled in favor of a Muslim who wanted his marriage annulled on the grounds that his wife had lied about being a virgin before they wed. The subsequent roar that you heard was the collective outrage of women throughout France over the massive leap backwards in women's liberation this ruling represented. A female French judge appealed the decision, and the case will now be heard in a larger court. Problem solved.

One problem.

No one asked the wife how she felt about this.

Speaking for his client, her attorney stated that the 25 year old Muslim woman was thrilled to be released from a marriage she did not want to be in and is now "devastated" over the appeal that will see her court case drag on and on.

Kinda sucks being a martyr for a cause you don't believe in, eh?

Heather Waraksa Photography

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Tue, 27 May 2008 12:54:00 +0000

This is me jumping on the Heather Waraksa bandwagon. I am absolutely blown away by the Brooklyn-based photographer's gorgeous, gorgeous work:

(via Bklyn Bride)

Omens

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 23 May 2008 12:17:00 +0000

I can't decide if this is the unluckiest couple about to be married, ever...

or

The luckiest photographer on the planet.

CNN is being sneaky and won't let me post photos, but I think all I think I have say is wedding photos. In China. Seconds before the earthquake hit.

Picture Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 12 May 2008 16:28:00 +0000

There are the pics for grandma. You know, the sweet, posed, reflecting zero personality of anybody involved.

And then there are the pics for the rest of us.

Photo by Stacey Kane via divinecaroline.com

Couture Invitations

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 04:11:00 +0000

Oh, I'm sorry. Here let me get that. Awful of me to go and drool over the screen.

Good lord that is lovely. New York Weddings has even more stuff to work yourself into a lather over here.

via Oh Happy Day

You Say Mango, I Say Screw You

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 15:21:00 +0000

I can state with confidence that I am fairly obsessed with Indian weddings. What's not to love? The whiff of the exotic hangs over even the simplest affairs: the gilded saris, the brides adorned with mendhi, the sacred fire, a Bollywood-style dance marathon threatening to break out at any moment.

And oh the drama.

Despite laws passed to crackdown on the dowry system which usually serves to bankrupt a bride's family, dowry-gouging is alive and well.

This past weekend, two prominent families gathered together in Pune to celebrate the marriage of their children. By the end of the day, the wedding was called off, the police were called by both families, and the mess made international news, thanks to... mangoes?

Dowry considerations may not always be necessary to render a marital tie asunder, it would seem. A trivial demand — that 'aamras' (mango pulp) be served in the marriage-hall — was sufficient for a wedding to be called off in Pune recently.

The demand for the 'aamras' came from the groom's side during the wedding ceremony at the Shivshankar hall in Mukundnagar here on April 17. The daughter of the city-based Bhise family was to be married to the son of the Botaljis from Talegaon-Dabhade.

Just before the ceremony could begin, the Botaljis demanded that their relatives be served 'aamras'. The Bhises expressed their inability to do so, saying that the menu for the occasion had been decided by both sides a long time back and that 'aamras' was not to be on the fare. They said it was too late to arrange for the 'aamras' now.

No word if the famillies decided to have a dance off to decide who was responsible for the mango mess up.

Story continued here.

He Blinded Her with Science

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 01:29:00 +0000

Love has made us do crazy things.

Going blonde.
Drunk dialing crying jags at 3 AM.
Flying cross country at the spur of the moment for a kiss.
Signing up on Match.com and then deleting your profile five minutes later and then signing up again.
And deleting.
Karaoke.

You know, the cute, crazy in quotations stuff that gets trotted out at the screen at the local cineplex as the crazy stuff we do for love. And then there is just crazy, as in, I will endure rashes, itching and potential organ failure for my dream wedding. This lady sold her body to science because her fiance is "100% worth it."

Wow. Dude is just screwed. How on earth is he EVER going to come with an anniversary gift to top that??

The Soundtrack of your life

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 14:11:00 +0000

itunes indie wedding
Steve Jobs knows your life is hard. It's so hard he made a pretty sleek box to make your life easier. From taking pictures to listening to podcasts to making the next million dollar You Tube video, he's pretty much thought of everything. That Steve Jobs cares abour you so much he even whipped together a playlist for your indie wedding so you wouldn't have to. It's like a mix tape from the billionaire that cares to you.

And thanks to Steve Jobs, I will have the Sundays Here's Where The Story Ends in my head for the next week.

The greenest wedding dress ever

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 20:41:00 +0000

There is recycling.

And there is this dress.

Can you guess the everyday item used to create such a showstopper?

via design*sponge

Rosie Flo

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 16:59:00 +0000

I picked up Rosie Flo's Colouring Book for my daughter when I was last in NYC. Nevermind that my daughter thinks crayons - no less thumbs - are for devouring. I want to color in it myself! I was struck by this lovely image of a garden wedding. The tux and gown - even the bridesmaids dresses - are cleverly culled from the garden itself. Would make a cute flower girl gift.

Get it here.

Etsy Handmade Weddings

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 19:25:00 +0000

I can't help it. Between my husband's birthday, my daughter's first birthday, the news of my dearest friend in the world moving back home and it just be so gosh darn sunny out, I've been a bit distracted. But I can direct you to just the coolest spot on the interweb right now to read all about DIY weddings.

Etsy has been running a series all month long on finding original, inventive handmade goods for your wedding, and I'm trying not to choke on the bile of envy rising in my throat over all the amazing offerings I missed out on!

But it's not too late for you. Check it out here and have a lovely weekend!

photo by Jillian Kay

The Ladies Book of Etiquette

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 19:08:00 +0000

From The Ladies Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness (1860) by Florence Hartley:

In preparing a bridal outfit, it's best to furnish the wardrobe for at least two years in under-clothes and one year in dresses, though the bonnet and cloak suitable for the coming season are all that are necessary as the fashions in these articles change so rapidly.

Avoid, as intensely vulgar, any display of your position as a bride whilst traveling.

I hope Ms. Hartley doesn't get the WE Channel in heaven.

Handmade Wedding

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 18:04:00 +0000

Loving Karmel Design's retro bride magnets from Etsy's Handmade Wedding shop.

Why Airport Security Sucks

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 20:50:00 +0000

Flying sucks. We all know it. We do our best to just embrace the misery and those 3 oz. baggies with your lip glosses of doom and terrorist-friendly mouthwash and explosive breast pumps (yes, mine was actually tested. Anyway) Then there's that whole striptease at security behind Those People, the ones who act surprised when they are asked to take off their shoes and belts and jackets and jewelry and meanwhile that final boarding call they keep announcing? Yeah, that's your flight. And you're not going anywhere.

Airport security sank to a new low last week when they spotted something suspicious in the sock of a Canadian traveller and his girlfriend. Unconvinced it wasn't something fishy, they retrieved the box and opened, revealing the engagement ring the guy was going to surprise his girlfriend with.

Poor guy had to scrap his plans of a romantic Caribbean proposal and popped the question on the spot.

She said yes.

Security said that's great. Now take those shoes off and get back in line, buddy.

The Husband Finding Dessert

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 13:12:00 +0000

Whether you are of the half full or half empty persuasion, a Thin Mints or Samoan freak, a Connery vs. Craig zealot, an Obaman or a Hilaryite, there will always be that great unifier among us, the incontrovertible right to do increasingly desperate, silly, downright stupid things for love.

Many a single lady attending a wedding has heard the rumor - pilfer a piece of that wedding cake, stick it under your pillow, and that night you will dream of your husband.

I'll be the first to fess up.

9th grade. Whipsawed over Mark Trandem. Attended my cousin's wedding and slipped a slice of frosting covered sheet cake under my pillow and had nothing but stained sheets and the threat of ants (and grounding) to show for it.

That cake rumor has its origins in a tradition that dates back to the 1800s where eager young lasses submitted themselves to various "tests," the reward being a glimpse of their future beloved. Of all the peeled fruit skin divinations, water submerged doughs and various household items burned in the stove trials for love, the dumb-cake is by far my favorite. Practiced across Europe, single lasses were instructed to bake a cake, with or without friends depending on the country, and all the while preparing, mixing, baking, watching, and waiting, she was not to speak a word or risk ruining the spell completely (hence the "dumb" name.

So like any amateur home chef, I examined the various recipes, culled the best of them, and now I give you:

RECIPE FOR DUMB-CAKE, THE HUSBAND FINDING DESSERT

One egg
Eggshell full of salt
Eggshell full of barely
Eggshell full of wheat flour

Absolutely no water must be used

Invite all of your friends seeking a husband but warn them that no one must speak in the preparation of the cake, hence its “dumb” name. Combine all of the ingredients into a dough and roll flat. Each woman must carve her initials into the dough with a pin. At precisely eleven p.m. place the dough in the oven. Before midnight, each woman must turn the dough once. Precisely after midnight, the husband to-be of the first woman to be married first will appear and place his hand on her initials.

A modification to the recipe:

After midnight, each woman must take a piece of the baked dough in her hand and walk backwards to bed where she will dream of her future husband. Again, do not speak as a single word uttered will break the spell.

Prepare only on Halloween, St. Agnes’ Eve, the Feast Day of St. Mark or St. John

I Do...Now I Don't

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 16:09:00 +0000

Somewhere in the US there is a woman wearing a diamond on a chain around her neck. The diamond is in the shape of a pendant, but it used to be a square. A princess cut, to be exact. A princess cut diamond that was on a ring that I wore before the ex and I called things off. We were through, yet here was this expensive hunk of carbon burning a hole in his pocket - and through his credit. He went about trying to find someone to buy that sparkly little testament to our doomed love, finally stumbling onto some list serv where he managed to find a taker for the ring. If only this nifty little auction site had been around back then.

Many states are now starting to pass legislation mandating that the recipient of the ring return it to the one who purchased it in case of a broken engageament. Miss Emily Post says its just bad manners otherwise.

For all you jilters or jiltees, what did you do with the ring?

Puppy love

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 05:37:00 +0000

The groom wasn't returning phone calls. Her mom knew this was a bad match from the start. She wasn't surprised when his family announced that the wedding was off. That didn't stop her from getting out the knives. Others pitched in with rifles with rubber bullets. And swords.

Did I mention that the bride was twelve? Apparently you really, truly, can't make this stuff up.

How Low Can You Go?

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 12:38:00 +0000

If you're burned out at looking of photos of Jennifer Hudson's, um, side cutouts - or Nicole Kidman being attacked by her necklace- or Amy Adams auditioning to be a church secretary (please say that dress was a costume from the movie I haven't seen), the New York Times has a piece on the evolution of the wedding gown as culturally designed by the ghosts of Anna Nicole Smith and Lady Godiva.

Actually, I dig the idea of showing off what your mama - who will be sitting ten feet from that slit that goes all the way down there - gave ya. But clearly there some walk the fine line between playfully sexy and well...this.

photo by Joe Fornabaio

School of Gallantry

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 14:41:00 +0000

Your Nerve-appropriate yet still SFW post for the day:

You are a 17th century French teenage aristocrat with an allowance of the size of Luxembourg and a conga line of ladies waiting to be wooed and strategically married for family gain and fortune. Problem is, you are a teenager and know as much about a lady's wooable parts as you do about strategic alliances.

What to do? Have your parents send you to Mademoiselle de Lenclos's School of Gallantry.

Mademoiselle de Lenclos, known affectionately as Ninon, was the most celebrated courtesan of seventeenth century Paris. Her notorious salon was visited by the brightest minds of the day from Moliere to Racine to Cardinal Richelieu, who legend holds, offered her 50,000 crowns for a night in his bed. After being asked repeatedly for her secrets as a lover and looking for a way to supplement her income, Nincon began instructing the sons of aristocrats on the ways of love. Known as the School of Gallantry, subjects included the care and handling of wives and mistresses, how to seduce a lover, how to terminate an affair and the “physiology of artful sex.” Her graduates went on to successfully marry and seduce, prompting women to beg for her instruction as well.

Her reply to a woman’s desire to know how big her breast needed to be to attract a man, Ninon replied “Large enough to fill the hand of an honest man.”

Nerve

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 14:27:00 +0000

These days I'm more of a Babble.com girl, but back in my LA single days (er, 3 months), I was all about Babble's hot, dirty, I don't wash and play bass kid brother site Nerve, a literary smut site. So imagine my delight - my seriously covered in snot, partially digested banana and cheerio delight - to be interviewed by Nerve for their Dating Advice from a...fill in the blank series. Today's column is Dating Advice from former bridesmaids with yours truly!

A Fox's Wedding

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 13:59:00 +0000

We've been plagued by a series of storms here in the South, but yesterday brought that lovely meterological surprise of Indian rain. Or the devil was beating his wife. Or a witch was getting married. Or making butter. You know, when it rains and sun shines at the same time.

Linguist Bert Vaux knew the expression as a sunshower, but familiar with the term "fox's wedding," he appealed to colleagues and friends and the man on the, er, interweb, as to what they knew the phenomenon to be. The wide variety of responses surprised him. What seems to be fairly consistent is the theme of a wedding, and "wedding" typically being a euphemism for the act of love that immediately follows.

Type of wedding/ Expression's country of origin:

Monkey wedding (South Africa)
Widow’s wedding (Portugal)
Devil’s wedding (abkhaz, Turkey)
Rat’s wedding (Arabic)
Wolf’s wedding (Aramaic)
Bird’s wedding (Armenian)
Bear (Bulgaria)
Monks (Croatia)
Poor people (Greece)
Jackal (Hindi)
Fox (Japan, Italy, Portugal)
Tiger (Korea)
Gypsy (Serbia)
Old woman (Spain)
Elephant (Swahili)
Leopard’s daughter (Uganda)

Happy Valentine's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 17:07:00 +0000

For my Valentine's Day, I'm spending it in bed. I wish the experience was as tawdry and indulgent as it sounds, because it's hard to get your mojo on when you've been throwing up since the wee hours of the morning while nursing your sick, teething baby. Sexy, no? What is sexy is that my husband stayed home from work to hang out with Baby Girl and has brought me liquid gold, also known as Gatorade. He even got me the red flavor, because it's Valentine's Day, after all. And he's romantic like that.

Because it's V Day, most news outlets have offered the typical round up. How no one knows if there really was a St. Valentine or perhaps there were three. We're reminded that the day was originally a pagan fertility holiday that involved naked men running through the streets. Here's a roundup of how different cultures celebrate the day. Here is some yummy font And how it all comes down to how you look in them genes.

And what of that mischievous roustabout Cupid who is responsible for getting us worked up into a Whitmans sampler frenzy every February? Because I am forced to take care of myself and lavish attention on me today, here's a little self promotey goodness from the book!

THE MOTHER IN LAW FROM HADES: THE TALE OF CUPID AND PSYCHE…AND VENUS

Psyche, the youngest daughter of a King, possessed a beauty so great that mortal men abandoned the altar of Venus, the Goddess of Love and beauty, to worship her instead. Consumed with jealousy, Venus sent her son Cupid to enchant her and cause her to fall in love with a monster. Startled by her beauty, Cupid accidentally pricked himself with the arrow meant for Psyche and instantly fell in love with her.

The King and Queen consulted the Oracle to learn why no one had proposed to their daughter. The Oracle revealed that she was intended for a terrible monster and should be left at a hilltop so that she could be claimed. Zephyr, the West Wind took pity on Psyche and lifted her from the hilltop to a palace in the sky where she was treated like a queen. Cupid visited her under the cloak of darkness, refusing her requests to let her see his true form. Homesick, Psyche begged Cupid to allow her sisters to visit. Jealous of her queenly treatment, the sisters convinced Psyche that her husband was indeed a monster and would not hesitate to kill her when given the opportunity. That night, determined to behold the monster, Psyche held a candle over her husband’s sleeping form. Shocked to see the beautiful Cupid, she jumped, spilling wax onto his shoulder. He awoke and though still in love with his Psyche, he and the palace in the sky instantly vanished, returning Psyche to her family.

Despondent, Psyche threw herself at Venus’ mercy. The haughty goddess set about to punish Psyche, ordering dangerous tasks to be completed for the chance to see Cupid. While delivering a box to Hades, Psyche peered inside and fell into an enchanted sleep. Unable to keep away from his love any longer, Cupid begged Jupiter to intervene. The God convinced Venus to quit her campaign which she reluctantly does. Psyche was given the gift of immortality and joyfully reunited with her husband for eternity.

The Saddest Story You'll Ever Hear

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 16:58:00 +0000

It's Monday, so that's the only reason I'm posting this incredibly sad story. If you're currently happy, in a sunny clime or generally digging your Monday, don't click the link. Just don't do it. You've been warned.