A few days before the wedding, listen to “Exile in Guyville.” It will sound completely different now that you’re committing to a lifetime of letters and sodas — like a well-constructed memoir instead of a bad-idea blueprint.
Have a bachelorette party. For one thing, it’s actually a good idea to mark a distinction between your single past and your wifely future. For another thing, you will come away with a ton of new underwear.
Politics are appropriate fodder for nearly every conversation (forget that “not at the dinner table” nonsense) but they don’t belong on your wedding website. A good rule of thumb: Would it be annoying if the ideological leanings were switched? (e.g. would you think someone was a doofus for recommending a cheesesteak place because John McCain once ate there?) This is, by the way, less of a guideline than a regret.
If you sign up for enough wedding websites — which you might do, because they make you register to look at dress pictures — you will wind up with an involuntary subscription to Women’s Day. Reading it will turn out to be TOTALLY FASCINATING. No other publication has more ads for flea removal powders except maybe Cat Fancy.
If you sign up for the Knot (again: pictures), you will wind up with a subscription to their magazine for marrieds, The Nest. Reading it will turn out not to be fascinating, but enormously depressing. Who are all these suburban-home-owning 24-year-olds with babies? Don’t they know there’s more to life, like living in a tree-less neighborhood where everyone dresses weird?
If you can’t figure out how you’re supposed to wear the veil, just plop in on your head. Everyone looks good draped in netting. (That’s what it’s for.)
Pedicures make sense; manicures are bullshit.
When you tell people you’re getting married, 98% say “Oooh, isn’t the planning a nightmare?” and 2% say “Nothing is more fun than your own wedding.” Strive to be in the second category.
