Weddingbee

ed. note: Mr. Monkey has long since married, but he posted this to his personal blog, and I asked him if he minded whether I repost it here.

Ok - so I have a confession that I haven’t really shared before. As far as most of you know, my wedding went really well - it was a low key yet large church wedding and it was awesome. Both Mrs. Monkey andIi have only great memories about it - but here’s the big kicker that nobody that attended knew:

FACT: MY PANTS ALMOST FELL OFF DURING THE CEREMONY

No joke. It happened around the time the pastor was giving his message about the importance of marriage.

You see - when you rent a tux (like I did), they pretty much have a one size fits all type of pants. It’s all magical rubber bands, spandex and clips that keep those pants together. For some reason, the two silver clips that were hugging my waist both snapped open. Basically it loosened my whole pants at the waist and was levitating like a xwing fighter that meets yoda.

At that point, I was like “craaaaapp!!” Here I was - in the most important day of my life - in front of my church - in what’s supposed to be a very spiritual experience and I was going to ruin it with my pants falling down.
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I think my wife has PTWS. Before you try looking this up somewhere (where you won’t find it, cause I’m the official discoverer of this rare disease), let me give you some back story first on how I came to find out about this disease.

I am a peaceful man - therefore I would want my bathroom to be the same. Normally, I like reading the Wall Street Journal or some gaming magazine or one of those employee recommended books I picked up from Barnes and Noble (Mark’s suggestions are always the best - doesn’t matter which Mark, if there’s a Mark working at your local B&N, ask him for suggestions)…but lately I noticed something about the literature in my bathroom.

Granted - being married I expected a few ’girly’ magazines…such as In Style, and In Touch, and In something magazine…but using my training I received from reading the back of Highlights magazines where they always trained you in “What does not belong?” exercises, I saw a magazine that didn’t belong. First it didn’t start with “in” next - it said “WEDDING” somewhere in there.

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So it’s inevitable that I would share some adventures in marriageland….little personal stories (that I affectionately call “wife tactics”) that I hope will help future husbands to better prepare themselves for a healthier and more fun marriage.

But before I go on, I must first put up the disclaimer:

My wife is the most wonderful person in the world. There is no one else like her. In no way is this post supposed to be mean in any way.  And I hope to never sleep on the couch, especially for this. Thank you.

Ok - with that out of the way - future men, today I will share about the weapon of mass destruction: NAIL POLISH.

That’s right folks - nail polish. This clever device is used by wives in a very cunning way. First of all, if you ever hang out with the XX chromosome possessor, you’ll notice that when they use nail polish they immediately fill the room with noxious fumes.

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Item # 9872277 that Miss Monkey probably wouldn’t let me put on the wedding registry:

I mean, come on….everybody can use a bat shield table.

Amidst the crazy bustle and planning of the wedding, there are moments in the day where I stop and just can’t wait until I’m married. If you really think about it, there’s so many awesome benefits to marriage - here are a few I’m looking forward to:

1. Save money on mirrors
By putting on various things and just standing in front of the wife and reading her face, you’ll know if what you’re wearing looks good or bad. Big eyes and smile = good. Pinching her nose, vomit and head exploding = bad.

2. 24 hour game of tag
I remember growing up, once the sun went down, you knew you had to end your awesome game of tag and go home. With marriage, you can play tag….24 hours a day.

Noon:
“Tag you’re it!”
“Ha! I’ll get you back!”

4pm:
“Tag You’re it!”
“Oooh! I’ll get you!”

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So we started planning out wedding invitations and I gotta say….wedding invitations is like watching a tree holocaust going on. There’s the outer envelope, the inner envelope, the invitation, the directions to the invitation, the clear tracing paper thingy, the vellum something that does something I don’t know, the little envelope, the registry card, the RSVP card, the stamp on the outer envelope, and stamp on the inner envelope…and so on so forth. There’s enough paper in there to make up an enchanted forest.

And let’s be honest - at least for guys, we don’t care about this stuff. We don’t keep the invitations and sadly, we won’t remember them either. Granted, at the moment we’ll say stuff like ‘oh wow, cool…the letters are bumpy.’ But the next day it’ll be a coaster for our guinness. Or on the side, there will be a scribble of “BUY FOOT POWDER FROM TARGET.”

And now that it’s also trendy to be green, isn’t it time we think about the trees? So, I suggest there should be a

DO-NOT-SEND-WEDDING-INVITATION registry.

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fiance: im gonna go look at wedding bands today at michael c. fina. k?
mr. monkey: who? who’s that?
fiance: it’s a store
mr. monkey: oh ok.
fiance: http://www.michaelcfina.com/
mr. monkey: sounds expensive
fiance: it’s actually not that bad
mr. monkey: i found a place to get my ring. they have a pretty good selection
fiance: ok!
mr. monkey: and its reasonably priced
fiance: better not be toys r us
mr. monkey: oh come on - what do you take me for?
fiance: ok where is it?
mr. monkey: http://www.crackerjack.com/home.htm
[note there was some silence here for a bit]
mr. monkey: i mean, you don’t get the ring everytime. might have to make a few trips
fiance: im gonna get u one of those metro bands. diamond in the middle
mr. monkey: what the heck? why? do you hate me?

Chris, our first groom blogger, has officially joined weddingbee as Mr. Monkey! Icon coming soon…

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Here’s a snippet of a conversation I had with my fiance this morning:

fiance when should we start our registry? i definitely want a vacuum, knives, mixer, one nice plate set
mr. monkey i want a giraffe, a swing set, and some gummy worms
fiance: cutting board, apron
mr. monkey: blow darts, giant bouncy balls, disco lamp
fiance: new sheets
mr. monkey: banana hammocks
fiance: comforter, tupperware
mr. monkey: robots, a tank of gasoline, firecrackers

There should really be a his and her registry.

Please welcome back groom-to-be chrischoi! You can read one of his previous blogs here, as well as his most fantasticromanticwonderful proposal that we previously featured here.

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I think I have a lot of great ideas. The only bad part is, I don’t think the rest of the world agrees. This is most exemplified in my sad attempt to try to “help” in the wedding planning process. Thus far, I have officially submitted, complete with TPS cover sheet, 10 wedding ideas. Thus far, 10 have been rejected by my wife2b. Hold on, lemme first explain this.

Tangent #1
wife2b: I decided today to call Esther “wife2b” cause it makes her sounds like a cool droid, and it sounds better than fiance which sounds like a french word (and we all know that as a way to show true american spirit, we rename all french words with the adjective freedom but freedom girlfriend sounds weird.) Plus it sounds like really cool technology. End tangent.

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I’m beginning to understand what Steve Martin felt in Father of the Bride. There’s just so much stuff to think about when planning a wedding. I’m utterly convinced that males are lacking a gene that allows them to be able to plan a wedding.

I can plan a 20 person movie night. I can plan a beer pong party. I can even plan a star wars 100 person convention in someone’s backyard. But when it comes to 1 wedding - I’m completely clueless….rather useless.

My only litmus test if something is good or not is whether or not it’s squishy enough. Regardless of what it is, this is my only measure of quality. If it’s squishy - then it’s good.

Prior to this whole experience, I thought the wedding only needed 3 things to be planned.

1. food.
2. booze.
3. some minister dude.

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