My Big Sky Country Wedding

This is another story about my roommates and their shenanigans. It all started with my dear roommate Lindsay and her "bit" with another dear friend: their short-term goal is to get me hitched to his dear friend. And then, of course, she will marry the first dear friend and the two of us will live down the road from each other. Finally, we will ship Chris up there and find another single man for her to marry and all will be well. And did I mention that the final destination of this story will be a geographic region to which people really only travel if they're in the Witness Protection Program or if they're teenage girls "living with their aunt for nine months or so..."? This region is what (apparently) is called "Big Sky Country" (aka Montana/Wyoming/South Dakota) and also, apparently, it's "heaven."

As Lindsay was defending her little plot, I replied, "very well, keep your 'bit,' but if I marry [this fellow], be warned that you will have the ugliest bridesmaid dress known to man." Seriously, the atrocities committed by this dress would go down in the annals of clothing history as one of the most hideous crimes against fashion ever committed. I told all this to Chris, and this is what she wrote to me:

"So, the bridesmaids will be wearing dresses made of bison hide. Something
similar to the dress on the right, obviously we'll make 'em knee length since
you'll be having a late fall wedding and it gets chilly in Montana. They'll all
be wearing matching elk horn bracelets and as a nod to you as the bride,
necklaces with a silver skull pendant. The eyes will be nice aquamarine
gemstones to match your cornflower blue motif.
"The groomsmen will have matching
skull cufflinks and be decked out in buckskin pants that they made themselves as
part of the pre-wedding festivities. Congratulations! Lindsay is going to be
such a gorgeous maid of honor."

And this was the picture she found for the bridesmaid's dresses:

If this wedding ever does happen, my mother might cry a little bit (after getting over the original shock that I've landed myself a feller, that is).

An additional part of the plan was that the menfolk would hunt for and kill their own bison/buffalo for their outfits. We may need two additional "alternate" groomsmen in the event that any of them get eaten by bears in this endeavor.

So anyway, ladies and gents, clear your calendars for every "late fall" for the next couple of years, because you're invited (all seven of you that read my blog). And golly, do I hope that none of these wildernessy men start reading my blog today.