Exact change.
It’s wedding season. And after seeing some of the price tags on these celebrity circus nuptials, I’ve made up my mind: my daughters are having cash weddings. What’s a cash wedding, you say? Well, it’s sort of like a cash bar, except…it’s a wedding. You want to sit during the ceremony? Twenty bucks. Oops, those are the premium seats, that’ll be an extra thirty five. You want to be able to see the bride as she walks down the aisle? Fifteen dollars or the blindfold goes back on. You want to marry my daughter? One thousand big ones, unless there are any other suitors out there who’d be willing to pay double (hey, what’s wrong with a little capitalist competition?). Some may say that having a cash wedding is “extreme,” or that the father of the bride is “insane.” You want to know what’s really insane? FORTY DOLLARS A BOTTLE for twelve dollar wine! FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS AN HOUR to rent silverware! THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS to pay a human to play digital music! You think I’m cheap because I charge four dollars per handshake. You think it’s unspeakable that I should turn a sacred tradition into a money making scheme. But I am merely beating the system at it’s own game. That system being the wedding industry, of course. Far too long have the fat cat wedding planners, caterers, and hotel ballroom janitors sat back and watched a bunch of sillies do the Electric Slide while they quietly count their millions and mouth the lyrics. Well, guess what, you corporate wedding swine? Not on my watch! Granted, none of this has any bearing whatsoever if I don’t wind up having daughters (I hope I do), but I’d like to think you enjoyed reading nonetheless. Because you now owe me seven dollars.
Nailsbails 