Wedding Etiquette – or as I like to call it, Weddinquette

We all know I am the resident expert on etiquette.  But what you might not know is that my expertise is not limited to just general etiquette; indeed, I am a multi-faceted diamond of etiquette wisdom. My particular skill set involves weddings. I’m not talking about whom to invite, which colors go with what season or how the invitation should face in the envelope (I do know that last one, thanks to my mom. I told you I was multi-faceted). No, these rules are much more sophisticated. Ahem.

1) You cannot “steal” a color from another bride. It’s a color. Possibly one of the only things on the planet that no one owns and therefore cannot be stolen. I liked pink for my wedding. And then, a few weeks later, I went to another wedding where the bride also used pink. For. Shame. She knew I liked that color. She knew I used that color. She knew I had submitted the copyright to use that shade of pink 6 whole months before. And she didn’t. even. care. But that worked out, because neither did I.

2) Getting married is not a race. It’s not a competition. It might just be two people getting married – crazy, I know. So when you tell me that you’re getting married in June even though I am getting married in July, the appropriate response from me is not OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU SERIOUS I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’LL BE MARRIED FOR ONE WHOLE MONTH LONGER THAN ME I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIIIIIIIIENDS. It doesn’t matter. Everyone just gets married as soon as they can. So if that means you’re engaged for 3 months or 3 years, it is not a race. Repeat: It is not a race. Plus just because someone gets married before me doesn’t mean they’ll always be married longer than me. They could very well get hit by a bus or mauled by a bear. You just never know.

3) Do not talk about the bridal hairstyles you hate, the bridesmaids dresses you find tacky, or the bridesmaids shoes you cannot stand to wear to the bride – odds are very very very good that she has chosen all of these things for her bridesmaids and she is just about to show you a picture of all of it. Oops. This is the one area where I feel like the bride can get what she wants with no objections**. If I agree to be in your wedding, then I accept the fact that I might be wearing a neon purple miniskirt in the middle of winter. That’s just how it works. For example, at my wedding, I used pink AND YOU BETTER NOT STEAL IT. Pink is not my sister’s favorite color. (I know this because I know my sister, not because she complained.) However, she wore the dress and got the shoes and looked fabulous, might I add. So, in the words of Nike, when it comes to that stuff, Just Do It. **This does not include cost – not everyone can afford a $300 bridesmaid dress and that doesn’t go with the bride getting whatever she wants rule. 

Ain’t she perdy?

4) Go ahead and get over your aversion to the YMCA. It will happen. It’s the only song that a bunch of white Southerners can dance to with a reasonable degree of skill. 

5) Finally, if you are going to “take notes” at someone else’s wedding for your own wedding, that’s fine. But please don’t bring an actual notebook with you and really take notes. This is a true story. No names have been given to protect the innocent. But you know who you are. Not. Cool.

This has been K-Veld’s special wedding report. 

1979

Have you ever seen the “new” Brady Bunch movies, the ones that make fun of the show? They’re fabulous and you should totally watch them. One of my favorite parts is that even though the movie is set in present day (or the 90s; same difference), the Bradys are still living in the 70s – same clothes, same home decor, same phrases. And I can relate, because while the rest of the world was living in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, my family and I were living in 1979.

See, my parents met in the 70s, got engaged in the 70s, and just liked the 70s so much they never left. It was more common to hear the Beatles playing in my house than the Black-Eyed Peas. I didn’t even know who Fergie was until she had already rejoined the Black-Eyed Peas. And if you have no idea who I am talking about, don’t try to find out – your brain cells are way too valuable to waste them on this.

ANYway, I didn’t think much of this until I got to college and had virtually no idea who or what anyone was talking to when it came to music. I’ve never been a music fanatic or anything (don’t tell my dad) so at first I thought I was just a little behind. But when I was literally the only person on my dorm room hallway who had no idea if The Real Housewives of Orange County was the same thing as Desperate Housewives, I realized I had missed more than I thought.

Looking back on it, it all makes sense. My parents raised us on their favorite music and shows – subsequently, I’ve seen every episode of Happy Days but have still never watched a full season of The Bachelor. And it was so much fun that I just never left my happy little hamlet of grooviness and loving each other, man. This is why I get along with all adults but can’t have more than a 6-word conversation with people my own age. This is why Daniel, a self-admitted old man trapped in a young man’s body, is perfect for me. And this is why, when in a conversation that I know nothing about, I have developed what I call the Nod And Smile – it appears that I am just as excited as you are about Snooki but inside I am wondering what season of The Waltons is playing on Hallmark this week.

This week on the Waltons: A problem arises that turns out to not be that big of a deal. Stay  tuned.

But I’m okay with living in the 70s. It was a pretty far-out time, and gas was a lot cheaper. So if you ever have any questions about Journey, Little House on the Prairie, or the war, just give me a call – I do, at least, have a cell phone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rg56gRJwZOc

Happy Mother’s Day!

When I was in middle and high school, my schools sent home progress reports halfway been the semester. The progress reports detailed every single grade you had received in your classes since the beginning of time. Every. Single. Grade. So this was the day where a few kids started sweating bullets because the “A” they told their parents they’d gotten on their math test was really “A few more grades like this and Johnny will never leave school ever.”

I particularly hated progress report day, because while I tried not to didn’t lie to my parents about my grades, I knew that my mother would take each progress report, sit with me on the couch, and go over every item on that sheet of paper. Every. Single. Grade. It drove me nuts. Then I would go to school the next day and heard about kids whose parents had just signed the report after barely glancing at it, and I wished that my mom would do the same thing.

Fast forward to the end of high school, college, and jobs. All of which I was able to achieve with a reasonable degree of accomplishment. Not because I am a genius, but because without even realizing it, I was learning the value of working hard and wanting to be proud of anything that had my name on it.

It took me a long time to realize that every time my mom went over my progress report with me, she was doing me a great service. And she was showing me how much she loved me. Did the kids whose moms didn’t go over their reports still graduate, get jobs, and know they were loved? Definitely. But looking back on it now, I realize that my siblings and I were some of the luckiest kids in the school, because my mom not only asked us to try our best, but she truly believed (and still does) that if we just tried hard we could accomplish anything.

My sister is a elementary school teacher with a masters degree in her field. She can organize like the wind, never forgets a birthday or anniversary, and has a genuine love for people that draws others to her. My brother is one of the best drummers I have ever seen, is willing to help a sister out (see what I did there) whenever he is needed, and worries about getting to work on time because he wants to make sure he doesn’t slack on his job. I am not trying to brag; really, I’m not. I am now able to look at these accomplishments and know that none of them would be possible without parents like ours who never accepted less than our best because they knew we could be anything.

What’s funny is that my last two years of high school, they stopped sending progress reports home – and I was disappointed. I wanted to show them to my mom so she could see my hard work.

I got blessed with a good mom. One who sings weird songs to me on my birthday, who constantly invites my friends over and treats them like family, and who tells me at least twice a day that she loves me. And if you would like her to be your mom, just give her a call – she’ll adopt you :)

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!!

A Few Thoughts on Etiquette

As you have all likely noticed by now, I am the epitome of grace and dignity. And as a public service to you, I have decided to highlight a few less-than-classy things that just really bug the crap out of me. Imagine I said that last sentence in a British accent and it will seem much classier.

1) When people say “You know , right?”
No, I don’t know. If I knew, would you have just had to tell me? Probably not. Plus there is no way to say that without looking like a complete tool. And it takes 5x as long as just TELLING me to begin with. Quit it. Quit it. 

2) When people say “Ew, what you’re eating looks gross.” That might be true. But I still have to eat it. And now I am sad. And hungry. I’m sadgry : ( If you are going to say that you automatically have to buy me lunch. I’m pretty sure it’s a law.

3) Aol.com email addresses. It’s 2012.

4) When someone constantly looks at something else on your person while they are talking to you. Do I have something in my teeth? Is my bra strap showing? Am I bleeding from my eyes? TELL ME YOUR SECRETS.

5) Orange Skittles.

6) When someone announces that you are in the bathroom during a company meeting. Everyone poops. But my CEO doesn’t need to know about it.

6a) When I misspell the word “etiquette” so that even after I fix it the url still has it spelled wrong. Fail.

7) When lists end abruptly.

I like to keep everything fair and legal, so in the interest of full disclosure, I did not take this picture.

I got the blogger app…

And now I feel like I have to use it. But it only lets you use the keyboard like this:

I don’t even know if that picture posted in the right space. Either way, this is way too much work. So have a picture of something fun to hold you over.

But back off, ladies – he’s all mine.