Diaries Of A Groomzilla, Part 5

Previously: Groomzilla and Lesbian Bridezilla submitted their list of unreasonable demands to the florist and arrived at the perfect floral arrangement.

Madonna the Divorcee has 4 minutes to save the world.  Groomzilla has 10 days to finish a wedding.

Veraglasses

The last two weeks before the wedding are when Groomzilla at his most resplendently irrational finally tears down Tokyo brick by brick.  In lieu of breathing fire, I rely on the Groomzillagram: a panicked e-mail (cc'd with text, Twitter, Facebook, and MySpace) tasking Fiancé with a random task critical to the success or failure of the wedding. Ten days before the wedding, there is no distinction between e-mails announcing that "we need a photographer" and those that demand "a white ice bucket that doesn't have rope handles, preferably from Pottery Barn." All dispatches from the front come marked with Outlook's critical red exclamation mark.

Poor Sainted Fiancé does not understand the need for the Groomzillagram (or white ice buckets from Pottery Barn). Fiancé does not embrace technology unless it allows one to shoot elves with laser beams or drive virtual go-carts with cute talking animals behind the wheel, so he would prefer that I cease the 25 daily e-mails that I send to his work and home e-mail, and then read to him over the phone if I have not received a response within 10 minutes, and then print for placement on the dining room table with key action items highlighted. 

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Ten days before the wedding, there is no distinction between e-mails announcing that "we need a photographer" and those that demand "a white ice bucket that doesn't have rope handles, preferably from Pottery Barn." All dispatches from the front come marked with Outlook's critical red exclamation mark.
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Take, for example, last Thursday. My wonderful assistant, in a good-natured effort to make sure I didn’t forget any details on my special day, cheerfully popped into my office one morning with a letter for me to sign. As I looked up from the desk, she asked, “By the way, do you have your toasting glasses yet?”  

A slow trickle of sweat sprung forth from my neck and inched its way down my spine. 

PANIC. Then...
 

FROM: ME 

TO: FIANCÉ 

RE: TOASTING GLASSES! 

Please add to Tuesday shopping list along with the beeswax candles, the special pens for the guest book and the wine glass charms!

Fiancé’s response did not inspire confidence: “Can’t everyone drink out of plastic cups? What’s a wine glass charm? Are we casting spells on the guests?”

A few days later, I attended the wedding of my former officemate at my previous job. Much like the cautious expectant mother steers clear of the airport her last trimester, the Groomzilla should not attend others’ weddings in the weeks leading up to his own. One cute idea that he hadn’t thought of could induce cramps. Such was the case when I laid eyes upon a small table set up by the guest book, where the bride asked her guests to fill out a recipe card with “your favorite recipe for a successful marriage….or a real recipe that we can cook in our new kitchen!” and file it in the little cherrywood recipe box next to the instructions sign.

FROM: ME 

TO: FIANCÉ 

RE: RECIPE BOX!!!! 

A and S had most adorable idea for wedding involving recipe box. Too gay? Who cares – MUST DO THIS. Add to list behind toasting glasses, beeswax candles, the special pens and the wine glass charms. Also, do we trust that caterer’s tablecloth isn’t foul? These tablecloths are perfect. Add to list with asterisk to note tentative item. Oh, also add disposable cameras for “candid” shots. When are you getting these????

I'm fairly certain that the last 10 days will produce the greatest exemplars of the Groomzillagram genre. With invitations, attire, food, flowers, venue, and most every other major component in place, the remaining to-do list items are the straw from which OCD is woven into gold.  Hence this morning's e-mail: 

FROM: ME 

TO: FIANCÉ 

RE: [NO SUBJECT]

Have you asked the caterer what she's wearing?  Did you tell her the color story we're telling?

In two weeks: The final entry, in which the Happy Day arrives and the newlyweds anxiously await the outcome of California's referendum on their marriage.