I married Vanilla Ice.
And took the weirdest beast bride picture ever in my parents living room.
I made my bridesmaids wear two-piece?? maroon ensembles. Sorry, girls. You know I love you.
My aunt looked WAY hotter than me.
And the floral halos. Sweet Holy Mother Margaret of Mary. There are just no words.
My mom had a few issues to overcome. My brother was no help.
My dad forgot he was walking me down the aisle and thought he was running for Congress.
Our videographer clearly missed the memo that nothing is EVER allowed in the baptistery but flowers and people getting baptized. Busted.
The only pictures that look decent of the ceremony are the black and whites because the sanctuary lighting is hideous.
Our reception chairs were more hideous than the sanctuary lighting.
Cake FAIL. Fresh flowers were supposed to be provided by cake people and layered in between. Florist (thanks, Aunt Nancy!) saved the day with gardenia clusters that were meant to decorate cake table but became new cake flowers. Bad, cake people. Bad. Bad. BAD.
Father/daughter dance was ridiculously long.
We also thought balloons would hide the odd 70's light fixtures. Not so much.
And our deejay rocked a legit mullet. Hard to see. But it flowed with the beat.
I also married the love of my life in the church we met at and grew up in.
Surrounded by our family and friends.
On the most glorious, September day ever.
And I wouldn't change a thing.