The bride’s grandmother, who is also my mother, decided to complain about EVERYTHING.

She didn’t like the groom.

Or the groom’s family.

Or most of the friends the bride invited.

She didn’t like the wedding dress, or the bridesmaid dresses…which totally pissed off my sister because sister had made those dresses herself.

She didn’t like that there was alcohol at the wedding. Or that the guests were allowed to drink beer during the ceremony. (Yeah, this was one of the most awesome weddings of our time.) (You want to know HOW awesome? We made the toasting glasses by gluing red Solo cups to dollar-store candle holders. I may be the inventor of the stemmed red Solo cup…and yes, we did play the Red Solo Cup song for the first dance.)

She didn’t like the food, which did my mood no favors because I made most of it and picked out everything that I didn’t make.

She hated the makeup the wedding party was wearing, which also offended me because I had been pressed into service as the makeup artist. (The ladies who were wearing it loved it.)

She didn’t like the venue.

She didn’t like that there was to be dancing at the reception.

She didn’t like that we had chosen to order a sugar free wedding cake, even though SHE was the reason we had done it.

And she decided to throw a huge screaming fight with the mother of the bride and the groom right after the ceremony….oh man, I’m standing there touching up the bride’s face between the ceremony and reception, my mother, sister and the groom are screaming at each other, and guests are coming up asking ““dude, what the fuck is wrong with your mother?”

Needless to say, my sister kicked mom out of the venue and things got a lot better after that.