As my upcoming nuptials approach, I beseech you, the Wedding Gods, for divine intervention so that I, the bride to be, don’t eff it up.
Maybe you live atop Mount Olympus or perched upon branches of the Banyon trees of India. Perhaps you sit on Heavenly clouds, swim the depths of the Dead Sea, frolic in an ancient grove of Oaks, drink mead in Valhalla or pluck at a series of 0′s and 1′s from a DJ booth Matrix style, but whereever you are, please have mercy. Here are a few specific prayers in need of your attention:
- Please do not let my hair end up looking like the Bride of Frankenstein.
- Please do not let me look like a hooker in all the make up I have to wear (though I am okay with looking like a high end escort).