IT WON'T FIT!!!!????

Today I stepped outside to walk to my car and wouldn't you know it stuff falls out of the back of my back pack. Yay.... awkward moments... A stranger smoking a cigarette stood up and handed me all of my things.
"Thank you." I said. The stranger gave it a little chuckle but then said, "It's no problem." He then proceeded to stand there and watch me fail to put my stuff into my bag. It wouldn't fit right, it wouldn't zip... what is my life? So again this strange stood up and asked if I needed help. I refused him and told him I had it... I was only sorta kinda maybe a wee bit embarrassed....

However, I think that this tells me something. People do not help each other enough. Even if it s just helping someone pick up their things off of the street, they will appreciate it. It doesn't have to be big.I have no desire to steel someone's kidney.... but a friendly gesture once in a while is a pleasant surprise that all will enjoy.

God Bless.

Don't Worry, you just have to be patient.

My first boyfriend and I were together for a year and a half. He knows me very well and because we were together so long I have say that during that time we actually became best friends. Afterwards it changed drastically... but that is beside the point. We had a close relationship. The day after we broke up I laid in my bed crying. I had lost one of only two people that knew my secrets (my best friend of 9 years being the other). I had lost someone to call when I was stressed. I had lost someone who held me tightly. I had lost my date to prom. I had lost a year and a half! And yeah I probably lost some socks.... So the day after our break up I laid in my bed, crying my eyes out. My family (or at least my brother) wasn't very sympathetic. They wanted me to instantaneously move on. As if it had never happened. But none of them had ever really gone through a break up like this. However, one of them pulled through for me. My niece (at the time she was just 2). She walked into my room and said, "Megan? Are you ok?"
"No." I replied.
"Oh....is it because you lost you best friend Max?" she was puzzled.
"Yup...." I sniffled.
"Oh.... It is gunna be okay Megan. Don't worry, you just have to be patient." She said as she stroked my greasy hair.
Don't worry, you just have to be patient.... How did a 2 year old know so much? How did she know that I was in pain and needed someone to sit by me and stroke my hair? How did she know the word patient!? And will she ever realize that she was the reason that I got out of bed that day? I love my niece. She is brilliant and she is sweet. An adorable combination that has pulled me through rough moments, happy moments and everything in between. Children are truly a blessing to us.

God Bless.

Working with a Witness

As I said before there happens to be a bank in may workplace. Yesterday afternoon as I was working I noticed the bank teller roaming around outside of the bank area. "Hmmmm that is a wee bit odd" I thought to myself. However I turned around and continued bagging,bag after bag of spaghetti, vegetables, milk, and the occasional condoms. I turned around to find that he was still standing around....still looking over at the cashiers.... "Is he watching me? Is he watching the cashiers? We aren't that interesting" just another thought to myself. However I am a crazy girl and realized that I was being stupid and should ignore my weird thoughts. But every time I turned around there he was...starring.... "I'm going crazy..." Literally..... I thought I must have been seeing things. Well I don't know if the rest of you know this, but it seems to be rhino virus season. So yup I had to sneeze. I turned around so that I would be facing away from all of my customers and their food and I sneezed into my arm. None of the co-workers around me said anything, nor did any customers. However, I hear, "Bless you." I look up and 50 feet away the bank teller stand. I must have given him a funny look when I thanked him because then he said, "I heard you..." Ok see now I knew he was watching me... because my sneezes are silent. So now I have to wonder why in the word this man was watching me. o.O I'm in the dark I guess.

God Bless.

Whales have fingers, look it up.

Going to the #2 ranked party college in the country is wasted on me. While in college some may experiment by going to a frat party, drinking massive amounts of alcohol (underage I'll have you), using all sorts of illegal drugs, having loads of fun sexy time with other promiscuous partners, I in turn chose to experiment by eating my very first cliff bar. I suppose that I am boring that way. I have rosary parties with my friends and I chaperon catholic retreats to help out my church. I am just not like the rest.

That is not to say however that all people at this lovely party college party (but let's face it, have you been downtown on a Saturday night?). I have heard more conversations of black outs and sex coming out of the mouths of random strangers on buses than I have my whole life! AND I GREW UP HERE!? Being in college and hearing about college are way different. You can hear me tell you about the drunk people... but until you see them, and God forbid smell them, you have no idea. SO instead I spend my time with people who I actually care about, my friends, my boyfriend, my family and the Starks... o and the Borgias. And I spend time with them while having a completely clear, alcohol free, drug free head. Because I'm weird like that I guess. AND THAT'S OK!

God Bless.

An act of Kindness

I am a cashier. There are many things to complain about with my job. I work more hours a week than I should while I am in school, costumers rarely appreciate the help that you give them, many people are rude and inappropriate with me. Sometimes at the end of the day it is enough to make you give up on people. However, tonight a different kind of man walked through my line. He was not like the flirtatious college boys who had come through only moments earlier, asking when I would be off of work. Nor was he like the man who quietly came through my line without an acknowledgement of  my existence or any question I asked him. This man was different. At first the seemingly average Joe didn't have much to say. However, he politely answered all of my questions and jumped at the opportunity to help bag his own groceries. By the end of his $200 purchase he had earned enough of our reward points to receive a 5% off coupon for any future purpose. The coupon printed out, but the man stopped me. "I don't want the coupon," he said. "Please, give it to the next person in line. Or perhaps give it to the next person with a child. Someone who needs it and can appreciate it."
      "Are you sure?" I said puzzled by his kindness.
      "If I keep it, I'll lose it. Please, give it to someone who needs it."
      "Whatever you want sir." I smiled at the notion, handed him his receipt and ended with my usual, "Have a great night."
       The next costumer to come through my line was a woman, about the same age as the man before her (maybe she was a wee bit older). Her order wasn't large. No where near what the man before had purchased. At the end of her order I pulled out the 5% off coupon. "The last costumer I had requested that I give this 5% off coupon to the next person. Would you like to use it for your purchase?" I said, holding the coupon out for her to see.
       "Yes, thank you." she started, "I wish I knew who it was so that I could thank them..." she smiled.
....me too.... It is little moments like that, that keep me going. A man giving up something for someone else, no matter how small 5% may seem, it brought joy to the person after him. (and to me). He made the comment to me that for every nice thing that someone else does for us, we should do double. I agree... I feel as though now I must do something nice for someone. No matter how small, whether it be holding open a door, giving up a coupon or complimenting a sweater, the person always appreciates it. It's the little things that make a difference. Pass on a kind heart and a warm smile to others.
God Bless.

Mayo; Satan's Mistress

Mayonnaise is nasty. 

I do not like it. Not one bit. I do not like the taste of it. I do not want this mayo's taste. I really think it's a big waste.I do not wish it any harm, but I won't eat it cold or warm. It is not pleasant. Nope Nope Nope. It gives no joy or any hope. I do not know why it makes you so glad; especially while my mouth is sad. It causes sadness around the town. It causes all to frown. If I must choose one thing to go; Then all of you should really know.... This one thing is what I choose. Mayo you lose. 
See, it is so bad that I rhyme because of it. I mean if I can Dr. Seuss it, then it must be true. 
God Bless.  

If bananas counted as a real food

I have to be honest with the world about something. I can't hold it in any longer. There is no point in hiding these shenanigans; I hate bananas. To start with, it tastes like baby food mixed with dog food mixed with all of your hopes and dreams being flushed down a toilet. Who wants that in their mouth? Not me.

But, let me tell you, the taste isn't the worst of it. Not even close. It's their texture. how can something have a rough surface and still be disgustingly mushy!? HOW!? I really want to know. Because just feel that banana. Not the yellow skin, but the white part before you take a bite. That is not smooth. And if it is smooth, then that means that something is wrong with your banana. It must be diseased. Which, considering it is a banana, wouldn't surprise me in the least. Bananas are very  unpleasant.
God Bless

Happy Valley and its unhappy visitors.

I live in a little place called Happy Valley. It's a place where we shit sunshine and rainbows and all the majestic ponies come to visit. Yeah, that's basically what happens. Except that for the last year we have been getting hit up by unwanted media action. Yup, that's right, Happy Valley happens to be the place where Penn State University resides. A place I know and love. And since last November a huge scandal came out about a former football coach (that hasn't had a connection to Penn State for over 10 years), Jerry Sandusky. Of course the country  was up in arms about it. Even though this man may have been a former employee at Penn State, that doesn't mean that everyone who still works there should be punished. However, I don't want to talk about Jerry Sandusky. He doesn't deserve my time. To be honest, I really just want to say that Joe Paterno was a wonderful man. The media, Penn State, and anyone else who may have had a problem with him needs to let him rest in peace. For the sake of his family and his friends let him be. He did nothing wrong. If you knew him, not just from the media stand point, but from the stand point of a co-worker, football player, student, family member or friend, then you know that he was a more than just a football coach. He was a mentor and a role model. He didn't ask for fame. The fact that there is Ice Cream named after him or a library... He didn't ask for that kind of honor. He was just a good guy, a good guy, who, in the past year was thrown under the bus. Anyone who has something bad to say about him, disgusts me. He was a huge part of what brought happy valley together. To the media, please leave our strange town in the middle of Amish-ville alone. We don't deserve this anymore. It makes all of us from Happy Valley pretty unhappy. Please leave us all alone now.
God Bless.  

Heavy Drinkers Who Eat a Lot of Fish

According to some study done by some person at some university in England (I know so official sounding, right?).... anyway, according to this study the happiest country in the world is actually Denmark. Which must sound surprising to most of the world, right? Or is it just me? As my English 015 professor puts it, "happiness to us usually looks like beaches and sunny days in a bikini."  She's right. I would have thought maybe it was somewhere tropical, somewhere sunny. Somewhere that people often like to visit when they want to get away. When you are looking to get happy, don't you usually think about the places where it's warm and pleasant all the time. However, instead of happiness thriving in these nations, it appears to thrive in a place where it's kinda chilly, rainy, and yeah not to put it softly, where they drink heavily and eat a whole lot of herring. I'm sure that it must be a pleasant place to live. I never really imagined it to be overly chilly or overly warm....I never really thought much of it until I had to read about dear old Prince Hamlet. This isn't what I found interesting though. It was that when Danish people were asked about it they said that it was not that they were happy, but that they are content. They aim low, set low goals, and when or if they don't succeed they aren't being torn down. On top of that they live in a basically homogeneous society. They don't start up very high so it hard for them to be brought down. They are not always pushing to be more than they have to be. Success just isn't measured the same way to them. One man said, "Success for me is if I am happy and get to spend a lot of time with my family." Isn't it funny how differently Americans define success. We define it as being of a highly ranked job, making a lot of money and being able to say something of our education. Maybe that's why so many Americans are depressed. So please, for the sake of the Danish and the rest of us, just be content with what you have and don't kill yourself trying to become the American version of successful. You may just end up further away from your goal than you planned. Happiness is no right... you must pursue it. Just make sure that you know the definition of the word first.
God Bless.

Llamas in a Hammock?

One of my closest friends has told me that before we were friends she was scared of me. Now while today she likes to say that it wasn't that she was scared of me, just that she didn't know me yet, let's be real, I saw her diary. She was actually afraid of me. I guess I come on a little strong. I am a bit more intense than I intend to be. This can be both bad and good. The funny thing is that this poor girl feared my intense nature and yet she was constantly thrown into situations where she would have to hang out with me. From going to movie nights and poker nights to school events and casual nothing get togethers with our closest friends. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't with me that much, but enough that I am forever in her dairy as that scary chick. What is even weirder is that she started to loathe being around me. She didn't like what I had to say. In fact she found my sarcastic nature cold and mean. Which caused her and I to be less than acquaintances. Now she was just that girl that my best friend happened to also be friends with. Okay, whatever, we don't have to like each other, that is fine. Bad solution. One day my sarcastic comments threw this pour girl into a rage, she even called me a bitch (a word I had never heard her use.). And now I found myself blowing up at her as well. This just wasn't going well at all!  A huge fight that threw our mutual best friend into choosing sides. Just not something that you want to happen. The funny thing is that night she apologized to me. We actually talked. Don't get me wrong, we weren't instant friends, but it gave us a chance to get to know each other. And in the months after she went from being not even an acquaintance, to being one of my best friends. Without whom I would have less random videos, less sleepovers where we sleep by a sword in case a rapist or murder stops by, less awkward moments and less yoga references. And without her I would not have made this blog. For better or for worse I have her back, because one fight can change who you are. See, and you thought this was going to be about llamas in a hammock... silly subscribers.

p.s. Please don't go duke it out with someone and then say "BUT I JUST WANTED TO BE YOUR FRIEND!!!" I am the exception. You are the rule.

God bless.  

Mallowball

Mallowball, maybe you have heard of it. If you have, you are among the lucky few. I like to talk about my friends a lot, they are pretty incredible after all, and today is no exception. I have one particular friend that I think I need to focus on today, and for the sake of this post let's call him Spider man. He's a pretty great guy, I must admit. Either way, he's really easy to talk to and I have to say that I must have my most random moments with him because there has never been a time where he told me that I needed to change or be anything that I wasn't. He embraces my random nature more than most, which I must say, comes in handy. However this post isn't about how Spider man excepts my odd nature, it is about MALLOWBALL! See, because Spider man doesn't care what I say, I end up saying really random and sometimes ridiculous things. One day as we were walking together from one class we couldn't come up with anything to talk about so I just blurted out, "I wonder if marshmallows would bounce better off of each other?" Yeah, see, I told you I was odd. BUT even weirder we tested it out. We made it a game. An AWESOME game. So you reading this are getting a treat (ha it's like a pun.). So for your enjoyment here are the rules.
 Rules:

1) A match is called a Xdragonq (pronounced dragon)  

2) Each Xdragonq lasts 13 minutes 

3) There are 3 Xdragonqs 

4) If you reach 20 rainbows (or penalties) you automatically lose the game

5) The beginning of the Xdragonq you must mallow it up

See now I bet you are wondering the objective of this game....because I know I would be. The goal is to get the "mallow" into the hands of the other person by bouncing the mallow off of a field of mallows. It might now sound like much, but let me tell you, it could be an Olympic Sport one day. Watch out for it.

God Bless.

Bunny Companion

Yesterday as my boyfriend and I were driving back to his house we passed a bunny on the side of the road. It was outside of his house. This bunny seemed a little odd, it was walking around in circles in a very tiny area on the road. I let it be, but my boyfriend felt drawn to it through his vast curiosity. He walked over to it to see why it was acting in such an odd manner. He came to me and his mother and let us know that the bunny had been hit by a car. Well now I cared about the bunny. In fact now I felt drawn to the bunny. It was still alive. In fact, its whole body was in tact. However, it had been hit partially in the face and had one of it's legs run over. At most angles the bunny just looked like a bunny, but then there was that one angle, the angle where you could see the blood drip down, the angle where you could see it pain. I found out that day that you can't call the humane society for a hurt, "wild" bunny. They won't do anything for an animal that isn't endangered or really something they'll care about, like a deer. Nope, it was just a bunny. JUST a bunny. That word rings in my head. It was a living creature. It was in pain. All I wanted was to help it, but there was nothing I could do. It had obvious internal bleeding and it's time was slowly approaching. We stood on the side of the road as its breathing slowed and it rolled over on its side. Its body had given up and he was slowly faded. A police officer came and scooped him into a bag to dispose of him. He wasn't even dead. I asked them not to. Just to let him stay where he was, let me sit a little longer. But instead, he was prematurely put into his body bag and carted about. His time had come and I was crying. All for a bunny I had just met. All for a bunny I hadn't even named. It was in that moment that I named his Frank. I curled up in a ball and cried about Frank, my bunny companion, who I had only just met. He was my Frank, and he deserved more than to be carted away in a plastic garbage bag. He was more special than any endangered bald eagle and should have been treated as such. I am sorry Frank. I wish I could have done more.
God Bless.

Air Force Lullaby

I think I have been afraid. I wrote before about my boyfriend going into the Air Force. I wrote it, I was proud of it, but I was afraid of being judged for what I wrote and I deleted it out of that fear. So today I write again about the one thing that I can't get off my mind. My boyfriend decided to join the Air Force. It is a decision that haunts me. My dreams reflect it. I have gotten a lot of advice on the matter in the past couple of months. I'm not quite sure that anyone around me understands what it is that I am going through. I realize that sounds overly high school and dramatic, but in this case it really isn't. I would tell anyone before this date that I would never be with anyone in the military. It just doesn't look like an option to me. Your life is lonely. Very lonely. I would have said that I could never put up with that life. But now, hearing most of my friends and family telling me that it isn't worth it, telling me that I won't be happy, telling me that I should let him go before I get hurt, I find myself doubting decisions that I made years ago. If I leave him and this relationship that means that even when he is back for visits or making calls to friends and relatives, I won't be there and a part of it. I want to be there. I want to be part of it. Which means I have to stay with him. That means that I will be spending my Thursday nights at my church praying for him, my Friday nights with my church youth group so I can get other people to pray for him, and my Sundays as I already do, praying for him. I will spend my time thinking about him and praying for him because he won't be here. I will do all this because I wouldn't want to lose someone as smart, funny, strong, kind, handsome, silly and loving as he is. I will miss his smile and his fake Irish accent. But mostly I am going to miss the way that he squeezes my hand three times when he wants to tell me he loves me without interrupting the silence. I don't think that I write this for the world to see, but for those people in my life who want me to give up before I start spending my Thursday nights praying for him. He isn't perfect. He makes mistakes all the time, but that won't stop me from from changing my Thursday night ritual for him. God Bless.

A lie...

Places like facebook are a little bit odd. On facebook you can be anyone you want to be. You could male or female or neither . You're name could magically be Edward Cullen and your interests could include that of chasing around mystical creatures in order to turn them into you magical slaves. You could like apples and hate bananas. The world inside of the computer would never know if you were lying. You could change everything about yourself. You relationship status may say single when in reality you have a girlfriend who just happens to not have a facebook. You could make up every detail, and who would be there to stop you from saying that you religion in Pastafarian and you worship the flying spaghetti monster? No one. That is who. You could say absolutely anything. Doesn't it scare you to think that the person on the other end of the screen could be one big lie?

Drifting

I have wondered in the past what people of power feel like as they fall. The thought of Marie Antoinette comes to mind. Did she fear death? Or was she strong... To die at the guillotine is some pretty harsh treatment for a Queen. I know if death was in my midst I wouldn't be able to stop the cold rush of emptiness. I would feel alone and restless. Or maybe I would be ready, at peace. My grandfather has slowly started to drift away from us. His mind is perfectly sound, but his body remains human as it has reached its breaking point. He has of late been talking to my grandmother as if his time has come. About how wonderful his life has been. How happy and accomplished he feels. How at peace he feels. And the added comfort of encouragement for his wife. While he may feel at peace I don't think it is his time. He hasn't taken me fishing yet. He hasn't given me quite enough stories of the past. He hasn't met his quota of grandfatherly advice. It just isn't his time. Some day his time will come and God will welcome him into the gates of Heaven with open arms, but not now, not yet. It's just not his time. I think that the reason why I think that before death I would feel cold and empty is because that is how I feel when I lose someone. When your grandfather tells you that he is "ready to be planted" all you can think is.... "but there aren't any pots big enough." and hope that each day he is still by your side.

Turtles

My two best friends do yoga. They both think it is relaxing and fun and even I will admit that it is good exercise, but I am awful at yoga. I am more than awful, I have the flexibility of a turtle. (Which I can only imagine is nonexistent.) While I spent my youth in the world of sports playing everything from volleyball and baseball to basketball and softball. I did Flag football and even track and field. Yes, while my childhood was spent in these ways they were both dancers. Once again I cannot relate. I love them both. They are flexible because they dance!! Which is why yoga is an activity that they can both enjoy. While they both excelled that    their activity of choice, I was always sub-par at all of mine. I wouldn't say I am jealous of their ability to share these common joys of life, but more upset really at my inability to be able to join in. No, I really don't have an interest in yoga and the closest thing you'll see to me bending over backwards is a limp bridge, but I do wish I could just some how fit. I can't dance (not even like those slutty girls in clubs)....I just don't fit.. So what is it that really bothers me if it isn't the fact that I really don't want to do yoga... It's just that I miss that time with my friends. They will bond over the inside jokes that they make together walking in the streets downtown and I will listen and pretend as if I was there. I will laugh every time I hear them say "Tits out for the boys!" or "Your happiness makes my ass twitch." I will nod and smile as I read their not so childish children's book. I will pretend I was there for every week night dinner at the local 50's diner....I will pretend that it doesn't bother me when I miss out, because when you just don't fit in the best thing you can try to do is blend into the crowd and hope no one notices that you are just that much different..... Maybe they haven't noticed the subtle difference in our interests or maybe it doesn't bother them, but that's more likely because they aren't missing out on one story or joke after another. I guess it's okay because I think we are all just turtles. I have the flexibility of a turtle, thing 1 walks about as fast as a turtle and thing 2 eats about the same as a turtle. So at least we all have that. We can all be content being the same species.

It's...a bruise...right?

Today I went downstairs to talk to my mother. This seems like a casual thing to me, except that right in the middle of our conversation she stops and stares at my neck. Wouldn't you know it? Of course my mother notices the hicky my boyfriend planted on me before I even notice.  I think I would have less of a problem with this if I remembered it happening, but instead the little sucker came as a surprise to me (no pun intended). My boyfriends response to all this was, "Wear it with pride. ^_^ You have a boyfriend and he loves you." Wear it with pride? hmmm..... Pride is a funny thing. People tell you to have pride all the time in what you do, and yet at the same time they say it is the worst of the deadly sins. So which is it? Should I fear the wrath of the Almighty? Or should I "Wear it with pride"? It's kinda hard to have pride in a hicky when your mom is laughing at you. Yup laughing..... Maybe this whole thing is just a lesson that I should learn to laugh at myself.... and stop wearing my hair up.

Not a loner, just lonely

My mother has always been the type of person who loves to give unwarranted advice. God knows I don't always enjoy listening, but in the end I love her for it. Since I was in kindergarten my mother has told me the same thing, "If you ever see someone sitting by themselves, especially at lunch, invite them to sit with you. Give them a friend." This was a lesson that was engrained into my head by my mother. She wanted to push me to be a better person. By the time I was in 6th grade my mother's words of wisdom had seeped their way into my soul and I was ready to do as my mother had always said to do. Every day the same girl in my class walked through her day talking to no one in particular. She went to the cafeteria, got her food and sat by herself. One day as I knew most of my friends wouldn't be able to sit with me I gained the courage to be the person my mother had always asked me to be. I walked right over to her and asked if she wanted to eat lunch with me. She smiled and said yes. I remember feeling nervous even asking her. Her answer made me feel so relieved. It is odd looking back thinking that I was worried about being rejected by the girl who had never sat with anyone. I learned something from her that day. It was about 3 months into the school year when I finally asked her to sit with me. That doesn't seem like so long, except that I was the first person in our school to even bother talking to her or introducing myself. No one else had bothered to say hello or even put an ounce of effort into making the new girl feel welcome. I made a friend that day. Someone I would be close to through middle school and high school. Someone who I am friends with today. Without whom I would have shared less inside jokes, less secrets and less sleepovers. My mother wasn't just giving me advice so that other people would feel included, she was giving me advice that would change my life. It is because of that day and that advice that I don't fear talking to new people or walking up to someone who is alone and asking to learn about their life. You'll be surprised. Each time I took this advice I made a new friend and gained new experiences that I will always be thankful for. So, if you ever see anyone who is by themselves, ask them to talk or hang out or each lunch..... it is more likely than not that they aren't a loner, just lonely.   

Lizards are in solitary confinement

What is it about humans that makes us need human contact? It is literally a punishment for us to be left alone. It's called solitary confinement and it drives people crazy. But honestly why is it that we feel that we NEED other human contact to stay sane? Animals can go days without contact. Think about it, we put lizards or snails or ginny pigs or snakes or fish in a tank. We don't play with them. We don't talk to them. We treat them as we do the prisoners in solitary confinement and yet you don't see a lizard hitting it's head off the side of its tank desperately trying to kill itself from insanity. I guess it just amazes me that with our intelligence also comes this need for compassion and contact. I think that is what really sets us apart from nature, our need to be together.  

Wedding Season

My brother pointed something out to me. He said that weddings are a sham. While at first hearing this statement I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to point out that weddings are beautiful ceremonies and that they represent the love that two people share and the bond that they will (hopefully) have for a lifetime. But as my brother tends to do he took his crazy, out of place statement and threw me right over to his side. Think about this. The wedding industry tries to scam you. Women spend thousands of dollars on dresses. Have you ever seen "Say Yes to the Dress"? On average these women spend $3500, and there have been times where I saw women purchasing dresses up to $18,000. I'm sorry honey, but the material for your dress (no matter how "designer" it is) does not cost $18,000! Your dress is not made out of diamonds or Emeralds. It isn't plated with gold or platinum. NO single dress should EVER cost $18,000, especially not one that will only ever be worn once. Pushing past the dresses just look at everything else. The flowers you buy for a wedding are 4 times the price that the flowers would be if they were specified for any other event. However the florist gets away with it because they know you need flowers for your big day and trust me, they are ready to take advantage. How about the venue? One, it is necessary for them to charge you to rent their space. That is understandable. But wait, you want the big hall? OH!!!! Yeah  that is going to cost you an extra $10,000. And here is how they really get you. If they want to really make money off of you then they will require that all food be from their venue. That's right. They have no problem telling you that you cannot hire someone else to cater. Why would they let you do that when they could make that much more money? Ok good. Now you are only going to get your food from our venue? Perfect. Except that a meal per person at a wedding is going to be at least $80 per plate. Oh wait, now you want to use the good plates? Yup that is going to cost you another $20 per plate. Yeah so you might want to cut down that guest list because if you want to feed them you will be spending about $100 per plate. Yummy. Now let's think for a second about the photographer. He spends absolutely no money on materials. Yes, he bought his camera, but considering how many jobs he has gotten done with it that thing makes him more than he spent. He spend NO money on film. Now all they use is digital. The only money he spent was on gas. So are paying him thousands of dollars for his time, plus then you have to pay more for every picture that you want to purchase that he took. Yes, he should be paid. But let's be honest, he too, like the florist and the dress maker and the venue owner is taking advantage of you and charging you more than necessary.Don't get me wrong. I love weddings. I will go out there like every other person and I will spend that money on the perfect dress and venue and food and photographer and flowers.... but that doesn't change the fact that I know they are ripping me off for a nasty profit. Here's to hoping it all ends up worth it ^_^