The Texas bridezilla is the worst bridezilla

We got married in a nice, middling-sized event — 40 or 50 people, I’d guess, in a little wedding chapel, with nothing particularly fancy or expensive. The best part was seeing old friends for a few hours, but if the wedding had taken place in 2020 rather than 1980, we would have skipped the whole thing, just had a tiny private ceremony (or even just a civil ceremony, the two of us signing a paper before witnesses) and been just as happy, and we’d still be just as married to this day. I guess it’s because we aren’t Texans, an alien subspecies with some wacky ideas.

The wedding photographer had already spent an hour or two inside with the unmasked wedding party when one of the bridesmaids approached her. The woman thanked her for still showing up, considering “everything that’s going on with the groom.”

When the photographer asked what she meant by that, the bridesmaid said the groom had tested positive for the coronavirus the day before. “She was looking for me to be like, ‘Oh, that’s crazy,’ like I was going to agree with her that it was fine,” the photographer recalls. “So I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ And she was like, ‘Oh no no no, don’t freak out. He doesn’t have symptoms. He’s fine.’”

The photographer, who has asthma and three kids, left with her assistant before the night was over. Her exit was tense. The wedding planner said it was the most unprofessional thing she’d ever seen. Bridesmaids accused her of heartlessly ruining an innocent woman’s wedding day. She recalls one bridesmaid telling her, “I’m a teacher, I have fourteen students. If I’m willing to risk it, why aren’t you?” Another said everyone was going to get COVID eventually, so what was the big deal? The friend of the bride who’d spilled the beans cried about being the “worst bridesmaid ever.”

Did I say wacky? I meant irresponsible. Also, that bridesmaid who was so cavalier about the health of her students needs to be fired, immediately.

The story ends with a nice kick in the butt.

The photographer who got sick after shooting the COVID-positive groom said her experiences throughout the pandemic have left her a little depressed. She recalled one conversation from that wedding, before she left the reception. “I have children,” she told a bridesmaid, “What if my children die?” The bridesmaid responded, “I understand, but this is her wedding day.”

That’s one sick culture when the fancy party on day one of a marriage is worth the lives of a few children. There’s this whole bridezilla stereotype that really needs to die.

The Christmas season is truly upon us

You can tell because the 2020 Hater’s Guide To The Williams-Sonoma Catalog is out. What’s your favorite item? I’m torn between the $100 crate containing a small container of pancake mix and the $4500 espresso machine. I hope my wife isn’t too disappointed that she isn’t getting any of it.

Actually, the $100 pancake mix is the best/worst. Look at that! Do you hand the crate to the cook and tell them to make you a stack?

One of the more horrible ways to go

There’s a reason, I guess, that my wife brings me a big bowl of fiber every morning. I think she prefers that to having to pluck the legs off grasshoppers.

A man who lived in the Lower Pecos Canyonlands of Texas sometime between 1,000 and 1,400 years ago may have died from a horrible case of constipation, according to a study of his mummified remains.

And during the painful months just prior to his death, he ate mainly grasshoppers, the study researchers found.

Apparently, Chagas disease, which is caused by a parasite called Trypanosoma cruzi, had blocked up the man’s gastrointestinal system. That blockage caused his colon to swell to about six times its normal size — a condition called “megacolon.” The man was unable to digest foods properly and gradually became malnourished, scientists found. The condition would have made it difficult for the man to walk or even eat on his own. The researchers think that in the last two to three months of his life — either family or members of his community — helped the man eat by feeding him grasshoppers whose legs had been removed.

Ugh. What a miserable way to go.

I may have figured our cat out

We don’t have one of those affectionate, cuddly kitties. Instead, we have a hair-trigger psychopath kitty who will cut you if you cross her. You can tell she wants to be friends — she will, for instance, follow me around the house and sit near me, within arms reach but no closer — but if you try to be too chummy, the fangs will come out and she’ll stalk away in a huff.

But last night she jumped up in my lap and lay there purring. I was taken aback. What had I done differently? Then I realized that I was wearing a dark robe, blue but so dark it was nearly black, and everything clicked into place. We’ve known for some time that if we put a black blanket on the floor or on the couch, she would preferentially curl up on that. She just doesn’t like light colored objects. So now I realize…

Our cat is racist.

Either that, or she’s seriously into the Goth scene.

I may have to test her musical preferences. Siouxsie and the Banshees, maybe? Joy Division? Or maybe she’d be content if I just played more Prince?

The Martian Odyssey concludes

The Bolingbrook Babbler has the final episode of our story chain, and it’s epic!

I did the first link in the chain, and I have to apologize to the other authors — I stuffed far too much into the intro, which meant everyone else had to load up even more into theirs, which meant that to have freedom for creative elaboration the whole story just expanded to an intimidating degree. Everyone did great, but I made them all work so hard. We’re bouncing around ideas for future story chains that will be much more light.