Of Brides & Bullying: The Reason You Can't Register For Bacon

I had a lapse in judgement. Lapse implies a tiny hiccup, a brief episode. So, perhaps I had a fiery crash with wrong decision that left my arm dangling eight-kinds-of-mangled around my foot which somehow ended up lodged firmly in my mouth. Or maybe I inadvertently signed up for e-mail notifications from a website hell-bent on stealing all my sunshine and sucking the joy from life.

Upon learning of the bun in my oven, I quickly clicked ‘yes’ to receive helpful messages from a parenting site. Not having the slightest clue of what to do with a real-life blob of baby, I learned to base all important parenting decisions on the words of the smart-sounding mommy blogger who flooded my inbox daily with hints and how-to columns. The cyber sessions offered reminders on important things like “Hey, you should feed your kid. Babies kind of need that” followed by “No, you idiot. Not onion rings”.  Nearly two years after his birth, my son is happy and healthy, no doubt thanks to key lessons from my Spam folder.

So when I set out to tackle the task of planning a wedding, the first order of business was to ask the internet to explain. To stay within my comfort zone, I sought out “For Dummies” sites. When even these elementary articles baffled my mind (Did you know White, Soft White, and Hard White are considered clashing colors?), I found a printable checklist which I could study, and study, and study until I’d memorized proper invitation etiquette and could smell the difference between Eggshell and Ivory in my sleep. I would train. I would not rest. I would win wedding.

I would scan through half the four-page list, fail to understand what a bridal registry or block rates are for, and decide that there were worse things in this world than being called a quitter. As I shoved the lengthy list under a stack of books, I resolved to “plan” my wedding the same way I’d plan my kid’s birthday party: send friends a grammatically incorrect Facebook message, ask my mom to bake a cake, remember to brush my teeth and put a bra on. I went to sleep that night confident that while Wedding For Dummies seemed complex, I had somehow masterminded the most brilliant method for celebrating matrimony.

The next morning I awoke to an inbox so stuffed with junk that my laptop rattled and shook. Messages bound by password and duct tape thumped and begged to get out. I begrudgingly complied, logged in, and felt my eye begin to twitch. A slew of messages from the mysterious on-line bridal consultant named Lynthia covered the screen:

“HURRY! LAST CHANCE FOR BRIDAL REGISTRY”

“TORI, GET YOUR REGISTRY STARTED YESTERDAY!”

“REGISTRY. REGISTRY. REGISTRY.”

“REGISTRY!!!!!”

Still months and months and a whole lot of months away from the little Big Day, Lynthia’s demands seemed as ridiculous as her name. The same rationale that told me pizza and a Facebook invite would suffice, alerted me to the dumbness of rushing to hand-pick wedding gifts before I’d so much as hand-picked a wedding venue. Still, Lynthia’s stern suggestions spilled forth for days and weeks and months, growing increasingly impatient and volatile. Her e-mails arrived in such massive quantity that their title lines blurred and threatened to melt my eyes. Eventually, the subject matter appeared to me like a heated conversation. I could hear the phantom Lynthia’s voice quivering in repressed fury. I envisioned her typing with such vengeance that keys suicide dove  from the keyboard.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, TORI?”

“REGISTER TODAY!”

“AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A BRIDE?”

“I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, TORI. THAT’S NOT A THREAT. I CAN HAND DELIVER YOUR WEDDING GIFTS TO YOUR DOOR. P.S. IT’S TOTALLY A THREAT”

” 384 DAYS PAST YOUR REGISTRY DEADLINE!”

“WHAT IF I PROMISE TO STOP SPAMMING YOU? WILL YOU REGISTER TODAY?”

“REGISTER TODAY!”

“REGISTER NOW!”

“NOW, DAMN IT!”

 After several months of Lynthia’s daily suffocation of my inbox, I attempted to write a response to her:

 Dear Lynthia, 

        BACK.

UP.

OFF.

 THIS.

    Sincerely Think Your Parents Meant To Name You Cynthia, 

                            Tori

   I’ll never know if Lynthia was real. Her bullying and constant shoving of wedding duties down my throat was enough to make me want to meet her, if for no other reason than to punch her in the nose. On the other hand,  I think of her dumb name, and I hope she’s fake. I like to think no parents hate their kid that much. Real or figment of my spam folder, my response to her questionable e-mail address caused my computer to kill itself.  I can only imagine how this pleases her.

     Ironically, just two days after this electronic explosion, I was overcome with the urge to set up our wedding registry. Lynthia had surely moved on to harassing other innocent soon-to-weds, so I would have to figure this out on my own. First I took a trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond to discuss some must-have items for The Mister and me. Deborah won points for not smashing my newly fixed laptop with a bat and for having a name that reflects biological sense. As I showed her the goods that we absolutely could not do without, Deborah gently shifted in her seat, scooting the golden bar code scanner away from my greedy paws.

HOME GOODS: FOR THE GOOD OF THE HOME & STUFF

Pretty standard, I thought. I wanted to take this opportunity for my hard-working relatives to buy meaningful decorative items for our home.  Since we don’t have much use for china, my cooking really only requires a napkin and a microwave, and I think pillow shams are boring, I strategically narrowed down our list to gifts we’d actually use often and love always.

Because your home is a reflection of your soul

A life-size statue of Kevin Bacon... made of BACON. Because obviously.

A sassy plate by Alison of TheLittleTiny. It's important to feel sassy while eating pie.

Oh, what's that? My tacky was showing? Is it really so wrong to ask for gifts for the love child on a wedding registry?

A recommendation from my sister. I think her taste is pretty much flawless.

A furry brother for my son... and for less than the cost of a toaster!

The most practical gift of the bunch. If this came in a 1,700 square foot model, we could live and eat in bliss.

You know, in case things with the groom don't work out.

I looked up after reading my list aloud to find Deborah biting her lip and looking antsy. She gave a giggle that kind of sounded like a whimper and mumbled “bacon” for a few minutes. Ready to get this present-selectin’ party started, I interjected. “Oh, is that out of stock?,” I asked her. To which she replied with the equally inquisitive, “Bacon? Monkey? Whore cup?”. For clarification purposes I added, “It’s a tea cup. A whore tea cup. Like a gift for the very unladylike lady, right? Ha! Right? No?”. “You should go,” and with that I took my hours of researched registry options and headed on. Weird. Lynthia always loved to talk.

Now banned from the local BB&B, I’ve decided to turn the poor decision-making over to The Very Bloggy Wedding readers/planners. Of the establishments from whence I haven’t been booted, we are down to two choices. Cast your vote for which store should be plagued with my out-of-the-box wish list! To recommend items to be added to our registry, share a link on Pinterest!

OPTION #1- TARGET

Because if I can’t fill my house with bacon then the least people can do is deck out the abode in Missoni .

OPTION #2- CRATE&BARREL

Because I love crates AND barrels, naturally.

OPTION #3- Greedy McGreedy Pants/ Register with both stores

Because if Lynthia is reading this her forceful, pro-registry self  would be proud: “MUST HAVE ALL ZEE SPATULAS!”

Cast your vote in the comment section!

What was the strangest wedding gift you received? 

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