Is it any wonder that when I got married, I had no bridesmaids, no bridal shower, and almost none of the normal shenanigans that accompany most weddings? (I DID have a bachelorette party, an amazing bacchanalian event that I barely remember, although I’m not quite sure if the faded memory is due to the ravages of time…or the massive amounts of illicit substances ingested therein. Seriously, my friends make Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms look like pussies.)
In any case, the reason I shied away from these “normal” hallmarks of the wedding celebration is quite simple…they make women INSANE. And I don’t mean just the bride, weddings make every woman within six degrees of separation of the event a certified nutjob. I’d argue that although weddings do spawn Bridezillas…(I’ve dealt with one before), the bigger impact is felt on those surrounding the bride. Even more so than pregnancy, weddings seem to bring out the worst in women…jealousy, envy, petty behavior, competition…basically, weddings turn women into petulant two year olds. This is the universal truth that Bridesmaids reveals…weddings turn women into cunts.
You think cunt is a strong word? I almost got shanked while buying my wedding dress, because I dared buy the sample off the rack and this lady demanded to try on my dress before I purchased it. I told her FUCK no, mostly because she looked like she smelled and I didn’t want pit stains on my dress. Also while prepping for my wedding, a close friend tried to talk me out of marrying my husband because he didn’t meet her bizarre education qualifications. A few friends just invited themselves to my destination wedding, because surely, I had made an oversight. Oh…and that I should foot the bill. Seriously, I wish there was a stronger word than cunt.
Actually, there may be a stronger word than cunt…that word is Helen. Everyone has a Helen in their life…not necessarily in the context of the movie, where Helen is a new friend driving a wedge between old friends, but in the context of a friend who is so much better than you, that you feel like total shit every time you’re in her presence. We all have Helens…that friend whose house is decorated so much better than your plain white walls…that friend whose kids are in every activity and excel at ALL of them…that friend who still looks like a supermodel, even after shitting out a kid…that single friend who loves to tell you how awesome not having kids is. All Helens. Do they know they’re making you feel like shit? Probably…and they’re probably doing it because another Helen made THEM feel like shit. While planning a bachelorette party years ago, getting every idea that I had shot down by a friend who was so much more hip than me, I realized that I wasn’t having fun any more. So I surrendered and just agreed with everything she wanted. When I arrived at the party, I was so irritated that it was almost impossible to have a good time. She insulted my shoes, my house, my car…but kept telling me how pretty my children are. Apparently, the only thing I have to be proud of is my prizewinning crotchfruit. I did what Maya Rudolph suggested Kristen Wiig should have done in the movie – I just sucked it up and talked about that bitch behind her back. Oh, how I wish I had mustered up the guts to just fling all the organic appetizers to the ground and tell her to go fuck herself…but I didn’t. And I probably never will, although it’s a nice fantasy – one of those things that only happens in movies.
Now that I’ve vented a bit, I can actually talk about the movie. I hesitate to compare Bridesmaids to The Hangover, because although both films revolve around wedding preparations, they’re really about two totally different things. Bridesmaids is about women’s relationships and how they sabotage themselves and each other. The Hangover is about…getting fucked up and shirking adult responsibility. Both films are hilarious and raunchy, but Bridesmaids succeeds on a higher level.
Melissa McCarthy deserves every bit of praise she received for her role as Megan. She is utterly fearless. I read somewhere that she modeled her character on Guy Fieri. Every time I think about it, I giggle.
I think I hate Rose Byrne. But not sure if it’s because she’s Helen or because she always looks like she is silently accusing you of farting in her presence. “How dare you fart in the presence of Rose Byrne!”
So…I’ve had the song ‘Hold On’ stuck in my head for about a week. (The last time that happened was 2005.) I don’t know how I still know all the words, but I do. Isn’t there something I can take to kill those specific brain cells?