In general, I sleep soundly through the night - except for when I am (according to Mr. Beefcake) singing, talking backwards, or acting out dramatic scenes. I have been fortunate enough to sleep uninterrupted by any nocturnal visitations of the nuptial-nymph. My other half, however, wakes up quite regularly and tells me in fevered tones of his rendezvous with HER…
For example, last night I failed to show up for our ceremony, which, naturally, was being held in the Rose Garden at our university, UBC…
(hmmm… why didn’t I think of that? Stunning view, eh?)
…leaving one Beefcake very anxious and concerned that he had been ditched because… he had “gone swimming in the pool for too long”?
Swimming + groom = broken engagement.
Some bit of logic is missing there, but then again, that was a dream.
For one unlucky bride, however, her big-day dreams quickly became worse than the sprinklings of that tutu-clad tormentress…
(DISCLAIMER: For those of you who are having dresses made by a seamstress, follow the link below and suffer nightmares at your own risk)
For Kerry, seamstress + dress pattern (did not) = dream bridesmaid dresses, but instead, something VERY different…
*dum, dum, dummmmmm*

(the idea behind the bridesmaid dresses)
Read this tale of disaster, despair, and ultimate triumph at etiquette hell.
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