OMFG plasticware

This post from To Each Her Own is brillant.

And some super crafty, hardworking budget bride should do this for their reception and send me the pictures.

(Not me. I am neither super crafy nor hardworking, especially when it comes to the wedding. My motto is less work= joy.)

communication errors

Telling people "you don't have to" to avoid the bridezilla* label is not productive.


As in, "you don't have to...."


- help me
-make a big deal out of our wedding or engagement
-avoid wearing white as a guest to my wedding 
- wear slacks and a nice shirt to the reception
- Wear something age appropriate despite the fact that you are my mother and well into your fifties
- Wear something that doesn't look like a Blossom artifact even though, as my niece, you are walking me down the aisle


In other words, I thought "you don't have to" translated as, "I can't tell you what to do." However, I've heard from family and friends that my attempts to be relaxed are being understood as, "I don't care."


Clearly, it is time to ditch "you don't have to."


I''m thinking, "I would prefer X, but I can't tell you what to do..." would be more accurate?












* They are going to call you bridezilla no matter what you do. They think it is a funny word and like using it. 

Gay Marriage… and why your ceremony is the ideal time to get political

Asking my childhood best friend to be my maid of honor was bittersweet.

She was the first person I called after he proposed. I asked her to stand by my side, wear a funny dress and keep my crazy relatives at bay.

She cheered for me, and then turned serious. This is probably the only wedding I’ll ever be a part of, she said in a matter of fact voice.

My heart sank.

We’ve been friends since third grade, where we spent the year trading Fear Street novels and learning the lyrics to every TLC and Salt N Pepa song.

I didn’t bat an eye during high school, when, after several boyfriends, she announced I like girls. Eventually, bisexuality gave away to I only like girls.


When she visited me in college, I took her to gay bars and pointed out potential conquests. My partner and I went on double dates with her and her first serious girlfriend. I tried to console her when her second serious girlfriend broke her heart.

In short, I know her intimately and I know that the feelings she has had for her partners are not sinful, evil, superficial or weird. She is capable of the same romantic feelings my partner and I share (duh, just pointing this out to anyone not in the know). So, the fact that she doesn’t have the same legal rights as us disturbs me. Regardless of your religious views, denying gays the right to marry constitutes denying some citizens of this country a basic right afforded to other citizens. It is a serious inequality, akin to denying women the right to own property or vote or denying dark skinned people the right to stay at a mainstream hotel. It is wrong.

For months, I considered my friend’s comment. I felt near ashamed every time I discussed my wedding with her, as if I was repeatedly rubbing the fact that our nation’s laws and leaders consider her relationships inferior to mine in her face. Engaging in a basic right denied to a minority group felt like it was 1930 and I was eating in a Jim Crow restaurant. How could I take part in something so immorally exclusive? Worse, how could I do so with my shunned friend standing at my side as my maid of honor?

My options are limited. My profession prohibits me from taking a public stance on any political issue. I can’t express my very strong feelings of injustice or support at a parade, protest or through a public donation to a charity without risking my career.

Early on, I weighed making some statement at the wedding, but the notion initially overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to offend my many conservative relatives and I also didn’t want to make some shallow gesture.

I ran the idea by my guy, who is somewhat more conservative than me. He expressed concern that a public statement would single out our gay guests, as if a generic statement would somehow leave an oversized crimson G on those guests’ foreheads.

I decided to go straight to the source.

On the way out for a celebratory dinner, I told my friend that I was interested in making a statement during the ceremony acknowledging that the right to marry should be extended to all loving, adult relationships.

What would you say, she asked.

Something like, in a just world, all adults will be free to celebrate their love in a lawful commitment, I said.

The wave of gratitude and happiness that promptly came singing from her lips sealed my desire to speak up during the ceremony. The groom soon agreed.

Later, when I told some relatives about our plans and they responded with concern or ridicule, I was further assured that we were doing the right thing.

Intolerance must be confronted. Inequality must be confronted.

I am not sure of the exact language yet, only that the message will likely come soon after our statement of welcome.

I also don't know what reactions we’ll get from the handful of other gay guests we expect or from the family holy rollers. Considering that my right-wing uncle once sent an e-mail to our shared relatives proclaiming me an immature fool after I defended my socialist Cuban relatives, this could be really bad.

I don’t care.

We are making this statement because we believe in the message.

And, more importantly, because remaining silent does nothing to help the cause.

Bridesmaid baubles

Some of these eBay/J. Crew finds might find their way into my girls' hands soon enough.

I may have also snagged these lovely Laura Gibson earrings.

Bliss

The Guy and I have spent the past two nights tweaking our reception playlist and enjoying impromptu dance parties in our bedroom.


SO. MUCH. DAMN. FUN.

This dance ain't for everybody, only the sexy people

The college roommate, a classical music fan, used to call me the music nazi. Much to her dismay, I would unapologetically blast Mos Def, The Roots, Nas and Talib Kweli in the living room of our tiny Brooklyn apartment every morning as we got ready for class.

Jokes on her, however, because now she loves hip hop.

The point of this little tale? I like my music and no one else's*.

Suffice to say, we are going to be providing our friendor DJ with a stack of CDs and song suggestions.

The songs currently sitting at the top of my list (subject to change):

FOR THE LATINOS
Dos Locos by Monchy Y Alexandra
Rompe by Daddy Yankee Ft Lloyd Banks
Rompecintura by Los Hermanos Rosario
Ven bailalo by Angel y Khriz
La Tortura by Shakira and Alejandro Sanz (remix)
Fruta Fresca by Carlos Vives
Beso by Aventura
Noche de sexo by Wilsin y Yandel
Ahora es by Wilsin y Yandel
Hasta Abajo by Don Omar
Calabria by Enur
Swing by Los Hermanos Rosario
Te quiero así by Chichi Peralta
Oye Morena by DJ Laz
Azul by Cristian Castro
Vivir lo Nuestro by Marc Anthony y India
Me Miras y Te Miro by Grupo Mania
Te Ves Bien Buena by El General
Boriqua Anthem by El General
Atrevetetete by Calle 13
Que le den candela by Celia Cruz
El Gato Volador by Chambo
Papi Chulo by Lorni
Quimbara by Celia Cruz
Amor Prohibido by Selena



FOR THE YOUNGINS
Give it up to me by Sean Paul
Green light by John Legend
Punkie by Sean Paul (Spanish remix)
Never been in Love by Talib Kweli
Pop Champagne by Jim Jones
Hey Ya by Outkast
Ms. Phat Booty by Mos Def
SOS by Rihanna
Crazy in Love by Beyonce
Got yo Money by ODB
Milkshake by Kelis
Yeah by Usher
4 my people by Missy
Best I ever had by Drake
Big Poppa by The Notorious BIG
I Just Wanna Love you by Jaz Z
What is it by Baby Bash
American Boy by Estelle
Tambourine by Eve
Promiscuous by Nelly
No Letting Go by Wayne Wonder
Ghetto Story by Cham Ft Alicia Keys
Shake your Pom Pom by Missy
Mercy by Duffy
Ms. New Booty by Bubba Sparxxx
Drop it like its Hot by Snoop Dog (the Spanish remix)
Paper Planes by MIA
Say Hey by Michael Franti
Never Leave you by Lumidee
That's Not My Name by the Ting Tings
Shimmy Shimmy Ya by ODB
The Light by Common
The Way I Are by Timberland
Luv 2 Luv U by Timberland
Down by Jay Sean
My Love by Justin Timberlake
Bucky Don Gun by MIA
Clothes Off by Gym Class Heroes
Walk it Out by DJ UNK ft Andre
Shake by the Ying Yang Twins
Whatever you Like by TI
H to the Izzo by Jay Z

FOR MY MIAMI HOOCHIES
Push it by Salt N Pepa
What's My Name by Uncle Al
Shake a lil Something by 2 Live Crew
Get Low by Lil Jon
Action by Buju Banton
Limb by Limb by Cutty Ranks

FOR SWAYING
Que me quedes tu by Shakira
Never Too Much by Luther Vandross
Your Song by Elton John
She's got a way by Billy Joel
Woman by John Lennon
Can't Get Enough of your Love by Barry White
Let's stay together by Al Green
If I ain't got you by Alicia Keys
Turn your Lights Down Low by Lauren Hill and Bob Marley
Is this love by Bob Marley


80s AND 90s and other classics
La Isla Bonita by Madonna
I'll be there for you by Method Man
Friday, I'm in love by The Cure
Get Up by James Brown
Poison by BBD
Faith by George Michael
Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi
Don't Stop by Michael Jackson
You Shook me All Night Long by ACDC
Don't Stop Believing by Journey
99 Luftballons by Nena
Candy Girl by New Edition
Now that we Found Love by Heavy D
Come on Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners
The Humpty Dance by Digital Underground
What I like about you by The Romantics
I'll stop the World by the Cure
Oh Sheila by Prince
Hat 2 Da Back by TLC
Miss you Much by Janet Jackson
You Rock My World by Michael Jackson
Dancing with Myself by Billy Idol
Knockin Boots by Candyman
Holiday by Madonna
You Spin Me by Dead or Alive

Salt'n Pepper - Push It (Video Music)
Uploaded by Grdgez. - More video blogs and vloggers.

(I have 111 days persaude my awesome BFF and MOH to learn this dance with me. She's the one who turned me on to Salt N Pepa in the third grade, so she better be game, son. )

What five songs must you hear at your wedding?


*Note: I never said my music was amazing. I just happen to like it best, that's all. Thankfully, the guy likes it, too.

I dig gratuitous groping

Source

My stern Catholic grandmother was not a fan of public displays of affection.

During our weekly Sunday stroll through the local mall, she would point out teenagers groping each other. "That's disgusting," she would say. "If they do that in public, imagine what they do when they are alone."

My tween self had no idea what she was talking about.

Now, as an adult, I wish she was around so I could tell her, "Duh, Abuela, people like to have sex."

'Cuz most of them do.

As for PDA? I try to be discrete, but if I really feel like a little ass grabbing and tongue wrestling, a few strangers milling around isn't going to stop me.

Our wedding day is going to be no different. The groom and I have already discussed the angles of our big kissing finale and we both want a passionate, soppy kiss*.

As much as it will gross out our guests, we are simply not church tongue people (meh, we aren't even getting married in a church. Or by a faith leader.) We are full throttle, ass grabbing, tongue down the throat people and there is no way we are going to censor our desire for each other during the most symbolic kiss of our relationship. 

To be sure, I am not going to be a complete skank and grab his crotch or anything. We are going to try to be respectful of our guests and keep it G-rated.

But if his hand starts reaching for my bum in our moment of bliss, I ain't going to stop him.

What's your PDA rule?

* Yes, the stories are true. Latin lovers are horn dogs. That, or my amigos and I are just sluts.  

Confessions of a control freak

I hate this stupid wedding, I inform the groom each time some wedding hurdle arises.

He recoils.

Then why are we getting married, he says, his voice full of hurt.

Because, I reply with a kiss, the wedding has nothing to do with our relationship.

Slowly, however, I am coming to terms with the truth: Our wedding planning dynamic has everything to do with our relationship.

While I feel burdened by the weight of having to plan a 100-person party, he can’t stop telling everyone we meet how great our wedding is going to be.

I feel pressured to prepare as much as I can. I’ve hunted for clues and advice in books, blogs, magazines and chats with married women. I research and compare caterers, dresses, shoes, jewelry, venues. I ponder worst-case scenarios.

In contrast, the guy, disinterested in most details, merely offers opinions or lends a hand when it is time to craft. The one time I asked him to interview several potential caterers, he asked so few questions that I nearly snatched the phone away from him.

I put up with all of this because the wedding is important to him. Also, I know when the wedding day arrives, his skills will come in handy: He and his equally muscular friends will be the ones running errands, unfolding chairs, unpacking beer cases and arranging tables while I play with my hair. He’ll use his charm and flexibility to defuse stressful situations that would set off my quick anger. He’ll wink at me if anything goes wrong, soothing any tension and putting me at ease.

The difference symbolizes the mechanics of our relationship: I am the unflinching strategist, he is the personable muscle man.

When we move, I find our new house, negotiate with the landlord and pack our belongings into labeled boxes. He delivers our rent check every month (because I can’t stand making small talk), befriends the neighbors (whose names I would gladly never learn) and unpacks.

When we go on vacation, I pick the hotel and book our airfare. He takes the dog to the kennel, carries the luggage and gets travel tips from fellow passengers while I hide my introverted nose in a book.

We call this our 50-50 relationship, and it is, for the most part, an equal partnership.

As much as I wish he was more detailed-orientated, doing so is like willing the sun to be less hot or asking me to stop being such a bitch: A futile effort.

And, the truth is, I take on most of our headache-inducing planning tasks because I am a difficult control freak who doesn’t enjoy being told what to do or doing what others recommend without first conducting an independent analysis.

I have to be the one to find an apartment when we move because I won’t let anyone, including my partner, determine where I live without first concluding whether the place meets my highly critical standards.

I have to be the one to book our hotel when we travel because I know he will just pick the cheapest place closest to our ideal location, without considering all the details I would have: The size of the pool, the check-out time, the property’s historic significance, the quality of the onsite restaurant, proximity to the airport, parking fees and guest reviews at Expedia, Travelocity, Nytimes.com, Yelp and Frommers.com.

Likewise, I have to be the one to plan our wedding, because that’s the only way I can be certain that I will like our food, decorations, centerpieces, wedding party outfits’, ceremony readings, etc. Yes, I am running my ideas by the guy and chucking any options that he doesn’t like. But, in the end, he is still okaying details that I have already approved.

In other words, wedding planning has been and will continue to be as stressful as I allow it to be. And, as much as I grumble about how he is the one who refused to elope, I have no one to blame but myself for the nights I have wasted tossing and turning over clashing colors, the dearth of Spanish caterers and imperfect hair accessories.

Gah. The truth is so damning.

What has wedding planning taught you about your relationship? And how are you and your partner dividing the wedding workload?

The catering caper

I love to cook.

My lemony shrimp risotto is more than decent. I can roast a pork shoulder so tender, it will make you wish you were Cuban. Pesto pizza is a personal passion.

But, I’ve never cooked for more than 40 people. And, as much as I love chopping and stirring, there is nothing more stressful than planning the perfect dinner party.

Hence, as DIY as my wedding will be, I never considered adding self-catering to my to-do list.

I expected catering would eat up most of our budget from reading other brides' planning adventures.

Still, I thought $25 per person would be more than enough to comfortably feed our guests, including dessert.

I can eat very well for that price at many of my favorite restaurants. Buying in bulk should further help reduce the final tab, I reasoned.

Oh, how naïve I was.

Roughly half of the caterers I contacted flat out told me I could not afford them. Another 10 never returned my e-mails. The few caterers who listed prices on their web sites were out of my reach.

To further complicate matters, the groom and I stubbornly refused to serve anything other than Spanish tapas, small, generously seasoned dishes that haunt our culinary dreams. Tapas are a literal bridge between my Cuban heritage and his Honduran upbringing (all hail mother Spain) and our relationship has been feed at many a Spanish restaurant.

 If a caterer didn’t list tapas as an option on his or her web site, they were immediately ruled out. I didn’t want some novice fumbling with Spanish recipes. I wanted genuine cooking.

We were ignorant in more ways than one. I haven’t lived in South Florida, where our wedding will be held, for nearly a decade. And, when I last lived there, I was a poor child who had never heard of tapas, much less had the resources to buy myself dinner. There was no way we could head over to some local Castilian restaurant and demand a tray of ceviche shooters, which surely would have been the most affordable solution, because we didn’t have enough time or money to eat our way through Miami and Fort Lauderdale during the three visits we will be able to make home during our nine-month engagement.

Finally, it was if General Franco himself had blessed our wedding. I found a single Cuban mother whose highly acclaimed Spanish restaurant had recently gone under. She was now catering from her Miami home and offered us a free tasting when we visited our families during the Thanksgiving weekend. Her prices were more than reasonable, and her food -- oh, her food. The shrimp was fresh and plump. Her tortilla Espanola brought me back to my days in Madrid. The roasted mushrooms were robust with garlic.

This is it, I exclaimed, pushing more bites of roasted potatoes on my sister and her partner. This is our food.

Alas, unlike Franco’s tightfisted reign, my excitement was not long-lasting.

I e-mailed and called, begged and flattered, and still the chief did not respond. After nearly two months, I gave up, and began my food search anew in despair.

I eventually found a Nicaraguan who claimed he was a tapas master.

He was not.

His food was tolerable, but nowhere near remarkable. And, his prices were simply laughable. $50 a person for ho-hum tapas? No way, Jose.

Finally, I gave in to the whispering inner-voice I had long silenced.

I couldn’t self-caterer, but that didn’t mean I had to completely turn over our meal to a crew of unimpressive businessmen, either.

We had always planned to purchase our entrée from my favorite Cuban restaurant—a place my deceased grandmother started taking me to long before I knew what communism meant.

I wanted the tapas to round out our buffet of arroz con pollo, a savory chicken and rice dish, especially since we aren’t having a cocktail hour or multiple entrees for people to choose from.

Since we couldn’t find authentic tapas or a cheap, reputable caterer, I turned to the next best thing—prepared foods from our favorite, politically-incorrect supermarket: Whole Foods.

We are going to buy rounds of goat, Manchego, Irish cheddar and blue cheese, pounds of assorted Italian olives, bushels of fresh fruit and vegetables, cakes for our dessert buffet and loaves of crusty bread.

From Whole Foods’ catering menu, we will order pounds of grilled vegetables, caramelized onions, roasted potatoes, squash risotto for the vegetarians, stuffed grape leaves and tomato and cucumber salad.

Because we are crafting our menu, we’ve ensured our costs will fit our budget. Also, we know the food will taste great because Whole Foods, with its bountiful take-out buffets, is accustomed to cooking for very large crowds.

There are elements that give me pause. What if our friends who promised to pick up the food let us down? What if we can’t find enough inexpensive serving platters for all of our dishes? Will the waitress we are hiring to refill our platters come through?

These concerns, however, pale considerably against the fears of serving low-quality food from an overpriced caterer.

To be sure of our decision, I treated the groom’s best friends to lunch at Whole Foods recently. They are humble rice-and-beans guys who find fussy food unappealing. They gobbled down everything we put in front of them, even the completely foreign stuffed grape leaves.

I then treated my picky tween nieces--- kids addicted to processed meat and Cheetos—to the arroz con pollo at my beloved Cuban joint. They eagerly shoved pounds of it down their throats.

Bingo.

These days, the groom and I are finally excited about eating on our wedding day. We had to compromise some, but, in the end, a cheese buffet, cake buffet, veggie buffet and mounds of arroz con pollo is a fine version of our ideal epicurean feast.

What did you do about food?

There will be assholes at your wedding

Whenever I fret over all the bitching we are going to hear from our conservative relatives about our non-traditional wedding, the groom reminds me: "All people do at weddings is get drunk and talk shit."

You know he's soooooo right.

No matter how perfect you think your wedding is or how hard you try to please everyone, there will be at least one prick who will look back on your day with a judgmental sniff. She should have served steak, they'll say. Or, I can't believe they didn't write their own vows. What an impersonal ceremony.

These people can't be won over. Fact is, there is always going to be someone who doesn't see things your way.

Instead of accepting this like mature, rational adults, we all waste countless hours debating how to most impress every last guest.

And, then, because Wedding World loves fanning the flames of our irrational fears, the Knot comes out with some bullshit, cautionary article about common wedding complaints.

This blatant piece of fiction contains gems such as:

 "I was at a wedding in Malibu and it was beautiful…until the DJ let it rip with 'Baby Got Back.' It must have been the bride's request, since she and her gaggle of friends began squealing and ran onto the dance floor. There she was, in her beautiful white Vera Wang wedding gown, with her hand in the air and her ass swinging back and forth. It was nasty. I'm not Miss Proper, but it just seemed out of place to be rump-shakin' at your own wedding." -- Colleen, 33

and

"I can't stand any speech that's longer than four minutes -- especially sentimental ones where a brother talks about not being sure he could ever fill his big bro's shoes." -- Walter, 24

These quotes are clearly fabricated musings crafted during an editorial meeting. It's content designed to scare you into hiring a more expensive wedding planner, DJ, bartender, etc.

Still, there is some useful information hidden in this trash.

It's a reminder that anyone who spends your wedding clucking over your joyful rump shaking or overly emotional toasts is an asshole* who didn't deserve an invitation.

And they don't deserve a minute of your thoughts, before or after the wedding.



* Asshole  (noun) 1. A guest who talks smack about the wedding the bride and groom just spent months carefully planning.

Grow a pair

My dear older sisters/bridesmaids have been making me feeling very loved since I announced our engagement. They e-mail me décor and catering ideas, listen to me whine about our annoying parents and call for updates. This week, one sister even mailed me a 5-page how-to wedding planning guide that included telephone numbers for a potential wedding planner, photographer and caterers.

Sincerely wonderful, right?

But, after reading this letter, I promptly fell on my bed and buried my face in a stack of pillows.

The sisters were unintentionally driving me crazy.

It’s not that I am an ungrateful brat (well, it’s not just that.) I love (and need) their help.

But, they were so nice, so sweet, so supportive, always prefacing their feedback with a “this is just a suggestion, you should do what you want,” that they made me feel like a crazy asshole.

Because I really, really wanted to like their ideas and make them feel appreciated.

Thing is, I am simply not in love with many of their ideas. And, I was too afraid to tell them, in case I hurt their feelings or chased them away.

This guilt made me feel like an ungrateful troll every time we discussed the wedding. They would mention cigar favors or elaborate centerpieces, and I would want to crawl into a ball of discomfort. Instead, I changed the subject or mumbled something about needing to think it over.

After the most recent episode where I collapsed on my bed in despair, I tried calling my sisters to tell them I was going crazy. Neither answered. I called my brother instead. “They are stressing me out!” I said.

Tell them, he said. “Grow a pair.”

But, I don’t want to be mean. They are so nice!

Tell them, he urged.

So, I did.

When Sister 1 called me back, I told her that I was having a hard time telling her I didn’t want to use her ideas.

Tell me what you want, she said.

When she offered to make a flan, and I said no, she didn’t sound hurt. We don’t want flan, we like tres leches cake, I said. She then offered to learn how to make that instead. When I tried to wave her away, because it was too much, she told me to STFU because she wants to help, she loves baking, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about accepting her help.

Right. I have the best sisters ever.

Which brings us back to this whole “grow a pair” notion: Tell your helpers how you are feeling and maybe it will all work out.

It’s some of the best advice I’ve heard so far.

Big brothers can be so wise sometimes.

Miami wedding

I’ve been so busy digesting the wedding summaries of strangers that I didn’t think to ask my nearest and dearest for their musings.

No more.

Allow me to introduce my brother, Carlos, and his wife, Sarah.

I asked Sarah to be a bridesmaid at my wedding because I want to keep this shindig family-orientated. Also, she is the fiercest diva I know and will rip you a new one in a minute if you fuck with her. If anyone annoys me prior to the wedding, I’m unleashing Sarah on them. She’s my muscle.

So, clearly she is someone you want to listen to.

She and Carlos got hitched at a swanky waterfront restaurant in Miami, with the downtown skyline serving as the perfect urban backdrop to their hip party. Sarah walked down the aisle to a remastered remix of  All Eyez on Me she had created. She planned the whole damn thing in fewer than five months. They passed out matches as favors, which I think are the raddest favors ever, since nearly everyone they know is a smoker. I still use those matches to light my candles. Finally, Sarah left the dance floor at one point to tell the DJ to stop playing so much Pitbull. Follow suit, ladies.

(Sarah had some lady friend drama prior to her wedding, so I included her "how to vent about bitchy bridesmaids" advice below.)

What was your least favorite part of wedding planning? The fucking table! The stupid fucking centerpiece, (clearly this is not my fav part) and the things that “should” or shouldn’t be on the table. It was crazy. Everyone would send me e-mails and ideas on how it should look. I ordered many different themed little stupid things for the table and returned and exchanged them just as quickly… the planning was beyond repulsive.

What was your favorite wedding day moment? Walking out after we both said I do. I don’t remember anyone’s face except for his. I briefly saw my mom when we first turned around because of where she was sitting crying but it was a happy cry and I just wanted to watch my new husband’s reactions to the crowd and the feelings he was experiencing. I wanted to know if he was as ecstatic as I was. It was lovely and I’ll never forget that moment.

What advice do you have for women planning a wedding? Pick one person to confide in and pick another to talk to about the one you’re confiding in, because you will need to talk shit to someone and you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Are you glad you went through with the wedding instead of getting married at City Hall? Yes, it was worth it. I look at our pictures a lot. It was beautiful and although I’m not the type, or didn’t think I was, it was everything I dreamed of it being, if not more. And, it was needed. It changes the relationship a lot. It’s a bond, a shared one that you have displayed for others to confirm.

Cake and flowers

Sarah dancing with her son

Sarah's father gives a speech

Cake antics

Your wedding is the perfect excuse to act like a PIMP

Ring boy

Carlos with his daughter, the flower girl

Carlos and my sister

Sarah had crazy cheese face in most of her pictures. That's what happiness will do to you.

Note: All photos pulled from the Facebook albums of our friends and family. Duh. Because your wedding will live forever on Facebook. Consider yourself warned.