First Hatemail for 2014

Good Day Everyone

So as the heading suggests, I have received my first hatemail. My previous hatemail was at least from some chap calling himself Sam.  This one does not give a name. 

Either way, thank you for your comments. My complaints department will be dealing with it and they probably won't be getting back to you.  But I will thank you for the extra traffic that you have generated for me by your clever use of the word 'blok'. Why didn't I think of that?

I won't be commenting on the rest of your post, as I do not really find it comment worthy. Oh hang on, there is one comment I would like to make. 

My face being all over my blog. Yea..........I wouldn't expect Samsung to advertise tomato sauce. 

So people of the page. Without further delay, here is the post of Mr/s Anonymous. 

A Warm Welcome!!

The last year has proven to be a failure of note when it comes my writing. I have not been that inspired to write anything. Which basically translates to nothing much besides for work and NPT has happened. People have not been giving me that much material to write about. I am not sure if I should salute them or fall on my back. For me to say that the esoteric world has been quiet, Jirre that takes doing. Maybe I have just been careful as not to piss anyone off. That could also be.

But it is a new year and a new financial year and I am going to try to commit to writing at least once a week. I promise to try. Yes I am aware of the fact that it is like saying: “It is a definite maybe”. Hey, I have been told that I should have been a politician. Can you imagine. Zeo for President. I don’t think I would get votes.

But truth be told a lot has actually happened. I have just been busy and over whelmed and honestly tired of the public. I wanted my home and my privacy. Maybe I am getting older and wiser or maybe it was just a phase. Or maybe, just maybe, I just ran out of awesome clothes to wear out. Hahahahahaha. Lets go with that one.

For those that are new to my blogg. Welcome. Please do not expect something life changing. Do not expect me to be nice or even civil. If you are affronted by the mere thought of using the F word or the C word or the plethora of colourful metaphors that I use, then maybe you should not be reading this blog.

I have only two rules (for readers) when it comes to the blog.

1.     If you don’t like it, then don’t fucqing read it

2.     If you can take the time to read then you can take the time to leave a comment on the blog itself. Your feedback gives me more ……drive (that is probably the right or nice word to use) to carry on writing.

For those new to the blog let me just explain how I operate. Just so you can’t turn around and say: “But I didn’t know”. For those that know my blog, read through it and laugh and nod while thinking back on previous entries.

1.     I write in Afrikaans and English. But please not that English is my second tale nê. This means that my English spelling and grammar sometimes gives Mel and my sister a stroke. But they have already learned what I am going to teach you now. This is my blog. MINE. So if you don’t like, go buy a fucqing dictionary and read that, as that might be more entertaining to your particular needs.

2.     I write the way that I speak. Exactly the way I speak. I have been told that, that is what makes my stories so entertaining. So when I laugh in real life, I also type Bwhahahahaha or something like that.

3.     I will make fun of you in this blogg. If I know you, at some or other point you will feature. You can either accept that now, or get a stroke when you read about yourself.

4.     After you have had the stroke, please just take it for the fun and entertainment that it is. I wont purposefully go out to make you look like a doos. Unless you have been a doos of course. But then your anger is technically just a reflection of the validity of my blogg.

5.     Just like I have no issue about taking the piss out of you, I have no issue with taking the piss out of myself either.

6.     I have to state the obvious. I do not call a spade a spade. I call a spade a fucqing shovel.

7.     I deliberately spell id F-U-C-Q. The word fuck as you might know is an abbreviation or acronym for ‘Fornication Under Consent of the King’. Due to an incident with a coffee mug I am now affectionately called the Queen of Fucking Everything. Therefore it is under consent of the Queen. Hence FUCQ!

8.     I am gay. This will come out. If you are a good looking guy I will perv and drool. If you don’t want to catch the gay disease then steer clear.  Yes, I know I am married and Paul will perv with me and then we will both drag you to bed. Nothing like a good old threesome to end a long day.

9.     Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha Sorry I just have to finish laughing over number 7. Oooohhhh okay breathe. Okay that was good. I can be random from time to time

10. If you are gonne get your panties in a knot, I will point and laugh and then write about it.

11. If you send me hate-mail, it will get publishes so we can all laugh about it. As a mater of fact, hate-mail get the most hits. So please send me some.

See taking the piss out of myself 11 years ago.

 

 

12. I do not consider myself a mega star like Dame Edna does. One day when there is fake porn of me on the internet, then I will be a mega star.

13. If you offer a service and I have made use of it, I will write about it. If your service was good you will get a nice review. If you sucked, then you can kiss my lilly white ass and take the kak I am going to write.

14. Keeping point 12 in mind. I am not an advertising agency. I am not going to advertise you because you want me to do it I don’t work like that. You want advertising you will let me make use of your services, yes I wil push to get it for free, or you can pay me to advertise for you.

15. Lastly (they {as in the Council that I belong to} are making me say this), I speak only for myself on this blogg. On this blogg, I do not represent any organization or brand other that myself. Apparently

With all of that out of the way. Lets usher in an new year on this blogg. A year of vulgarity, laughs, cries and fucqing good stories.

For those that missed me, I’M BAAAACCCKKK!!!!!!

For those that hoped I wouldn’t be back, FUCQ YOU!!!!!

And for those that are new, pull up a chair sugar, this shit is about to get real.

xxx

Zeo Goes Cyrus

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Here Comes Mama June

We have a T.V. like most people. We have a dvd player. We have an areal as well. We even have a T.V. License, which is more than what I can say for most of ya’ll. However, and here it gets tricky, the areal is not connected. As a matter of fact it is standing in the kitchen. We don’t watch T.V. at all. We watch Movies and Series, but normal T.V. just doesn’t happen in our house.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

The Cookie Monsters (Mel and Mirelle) have DSTV. They have now realized that I live myself into what ever I am watching. This means that the faces that I pull while watching something, is apparently extremely funny. And the more fucqed up the show is, the better are my reactions to it.

For a while now we watch all kinds of stuff. I love ‘Come Dine With Me’ and ‘Hells Kitchen’, well anything with Ramsey in it.  We watched Geordie Shore for a while, but damn those people are fucked up. And then they started talking about 'Banging Birds'. Bwhahahahahaha well Mel said that, that is when you have a pigeon in each hand and you hit them against each other. Bwhahahahahaha.

‘Long Island Medium’ we also watch and the Gypsy shows. But the one show that I really detest ‘Toddlers and Tiaras’, or something like that. I cannot stand how people can subject their small children to the bitchy world of modelling at age 2 or some shit. And these girls become Divas, with their make-up and curling irons and Goddess knows what else.

But branching off from this show is the series called ‘Here Comes Honey Boo Boo’. Now I have to admit that I love watching this show. It is an entirely new level of fucqed up. I watch this show and I cannot stop laughing. Let me just clarify, I don’t visit there too watch the show. But if it is on when we visit there, then we watch it. Before I go further, I realize that these are people with feelings. And it is honestly not that I am trying to insult them but I simply have to explain how I feel about the show.

Mama June, my new Hero

The thing that I laugh about the most is the fact that these people are famous. Clearly, in today’s world you can become famous for any old shit. These people are famous and for what? For being rednecks. Bwhahahahahahahaha. That to me is the funniest. That they can go on international television, talk about the weirdest shit, and people like me cannot stop watching it. The question that begs to be asked is “Who is more fucqed up? The redneck on T.V. or the idiot who loves to watch the show?”

With this particular show, I really don’t like the main character. Honey Boo Boo annoys the shit out of me. A spoilt little brat that gets away with it. She needs a fucqing hiding.

I love Mamma June and Sugar Bear (Mama June I love the most). I only realized yesterday that they are not married. He is her boo. So when I heard she has a boyfriend, I thought she left him and has a new boo. Because I thought he was her husband. Clearly I thought wrong. Please understand that I love watching these people because of their fucqed up quirks. The shit they say and or do, you cannot make that shit up (Thank you Whoopi)

For example, Mama June said: "I haven't worn high heels since the forklift accident." Bwhahahahahahahahaha OMK Bwhahahahahahahaha! How does your mind not go ……….’say what’………….? Of course I am as curious as all hell about exactly what was the Forklift accident. Bwhahahahahahahaha. This is really funny shit.

Oh Oh, how is this. Sugar Bear said: Dancing is all about hand placement.” Bwhahahahahahahahaha. Oh Sweet baby Jesus that is funny. How can you not laugh at that?

"The soup has been cooking for awhile and smells like wet gym shorts."- Mama June, providing an enticing descriptive for her "cabbage soup," an unsuccessful attempt at "healthy" food.

Sugar Bear also said: "When June gets stressed, I let it roll off of me like oil off a duck."

I am on the fucqing floor laughing. Oil off a duck! Bwhahahahahahaha. The poor fucqing duck. Bwhahahahahahahahaha.

Of course I just could not stop laughing at their Family game. Let me explain how it went down.

In “Guess Whose Breath” one player must wear a blindfold while other people breathe upon that player's face. The blindfolded person must then guess who did the breathing, by the smell. According to Chubbs, she only brushes her teeth on "special occasions," so she should have been the easiest to identify. However, Chubbs actually won the game herself, by correctly guessing the breath of each family members. The game made Chickadee, the pregnant one, laugh so hard that she peed on the couch.

Mama June on the Wendy Williams Show

But an article about Mama June would not be complete without her famous Sketti Recipe. So here it is folks. Mama Junes FAMOUS Sketti Recipe! Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.

Ingredients

• 1 Pound spaghetti
• 3/4 Cup ketchup
• 3/4 Cup butter or margarine

Preparation

Step 1:

Boil spaghetti according to packaging directions, or about 20 mins. until it is soft.

Step 2:

Mix butter and ketchup in a bowl and microwave until mixture is melted together. Pour over pasta and serve hot.

Cooking tip:

To see if the "sketti" is done, do as Mama June does: Throw it up on the wall and see if it sticks.

Enjoy your Sketti Everyone

Mwah!

Homophobia V.S. Gay

Do you know what fascinates me? The mindset of the average homophobe. I am fascinated by them.

In my (admittedly short) gay lifespan, I have seen and heard things that one has to sit back and wonder about these ‘proud to be straight’ men. We all know them. We all have ‘friends’ like this. The guy who is always gay bashing and always trying to prove a point that he is completely anti gay. But lets for a moment take a look at this man and try to see who or what he is.

There is an Afrikaans teasing rhyme that homophobes use to make fun of gays. It goes as follows: “Holle teen die muur, Zeo is hier.” I am just using my name in this rhyme to demonstrate it to you (I am also, admittedly, used to this rhyme having my name in it). Translated it means something to the effect of “put your bums against the wall, Zeo is here”.  What this means is that this Homophobe is scared of something that he doesn’t even really understand. The educated will know that not all gay men are interested in fucqing you, some wants to be fucqed and some do both. Hence the terms, Top (fucqer), Bottom (fucqee) and Versatile (fuckeree, does both). So Homophobe, how will keeping your bum against a wall help you when faced with a Bottom? Yes, a gay that wants you shlong-a-long (thank you Ronel).

Also remember that these sexual roles is not determined by the character of the gay man. In our relationship, for example, I am definitely more feminine inclined than Paul, I even think like a woman. But sexually I am a Top. You will also find that in 80% of gay couples, where there is a big guy and a smaller guy, the big one (that you would think is the Top) is the Bottom. So again, how does this rhyme help you Homophobe?

My second issue with that is the fact that you automatically assume that we want to penetrate you. Is that not just a little too much of wishful thinking? Hmmmmmmmmm?

What I have also noticed through the years is that Homophobes tend to think that a gay man WILL want them. Just for because. No there are gay men that do go for straight men. Yes it is true. But this can be said about any sexual kink. Do you meet a blond woman and believe that she is the town bicycle that has slept with the entire Dallas? No you don’t, so why do you assume that any gay guy will want to have sex with you? Firstly I have seen some these homophobes that claim this and the fact that even a blind drunk woman with the knowledge of that this is her last day alive will sleep with them, boggles the mind. What makes you think a gay man will want anything to do with you. We have class, style, brains and a sense of hygiene. It’s not gonna go down so please stop assuming that you are Gods gift. Or is your assumption actually just wishful thinking? Hmmmmmmmm? Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much.

On the topic of comparing gay men to these brute homophobes………..This is almost too easy. Look at them, now back to us. Now look at them again, back to us.

Their shirts are never ironed. As a matter of fact their miss match outfit (and please I am not talking about the ones that has a wife to pick out or iron their clothes) looks like it has climbed out of the washing basket all on its own. Once you get used to the over powering smell of Brutt or Axe (even though a nice smelling man is very sexy, you can also stink of your spray) you will smell the Body Odour that casually mixes with the smell of their piss and cum stained clothing. Yes, of course it is ok for you to recycle your clothing. Especially when you picked up skank last night, at your local Smugglers pub, wearing that same outfit. Then of course the excellent verbal capability. “Wiff, dat, I are wearing a jean pant.” Do I need to even continue?

As a matter of fact the comparison itself can be a blog on its own, so lets not delve too deep into it. After all, I wouldn’t want to give you a complex.

Then of course there is that age old argument about you being a cooler man because you get to see the sexy chick naked………………I am that sexy chicks bff. And what that means is that I actually get to see her naked whenever we go shopping. Not that it does anything for me but I actually do get to see her naked. Not like you that only imagine it. I have even touched her breasts to help her look for lumps or to readjust the girls in the bra. And you know when you are feeling self conscious because you think we are laughing at you……..well we are.

And then of course finally, in 1996 a study was done to try and see what is up (pardon the pun) with Homophobes.

They investigated the role of homosexual arousal in exclusively heterosexual men who admitted negative affect toward homosexual individuals. Participants consisted of a group of homophobic men (n = 35) and a group of non-homophobic men (n = 29); they were assigned to groups on the basis of their scores on the Index of Homophobia (W. W. Hudson & W. A. Ricketts, 1980). The men were exposed to sexually explicit erotic stimuli consisting of heterosexual, male homosexual, and lesbian videotapes, and changes in penile circumference were monitored. They also completed an Aggression Questionnaire (A. H. Buss & M. Perry, 1992). Both groups exhibited increases in penile circumference to the heterosexual and female homosexual videos. Only the homophobic men showed an increase in penile erection to male homosexual stimuli. The groups did not differ in aggression. Homophobia is apparently associated with homosexual arousal that the homophobic individual is either unaware of or denies.

You see, as gays we have to constantly hear how we are the vermin of the Earth. But if human categories were to be labelled like that, I wonder………....

My mom used to say: “We often hate in other people, that which we hate most in ourselves.”

Mwah!

Klere Koop Saam Zeo

So kom die dag dan nou toe ook wat ek klere moet koop vir werk. Ja button up shirts en sulke meer corporate goetters. Kan jy dit glo. Vir die wat my nou nie ken nie, laat ek net verduidelik. Ek word omtrent nooit gesien in enige iets wat net vaag weg ‘n suite resemble nie.

Paul is mal oor daai look. Dis wat hy dra en dit werk rerig vir hom. Hy lyk baie sexy in sulk klere, maar vir my persoonlik is dit boring klere. Mense wat nie colours kan match nie en wat nie kunstig is nie, dra dit. Dis net my opienie en julle hoef nie saam te stem. Ook gaan ek jou nie haat oor jy daardie klere dra nie. Baie mense wat ek ken dra dit, en nou ek ook.

So besluit ons dan nou om Maandag aand wat verby is klere te gaan koop. Sommer daar in my Hemel, ja Canal Walk, waar my saligmaker my bank kaart is. Dan weer hy kan ook partykeer die duiwel van self wees. Maandag was so kombinasie van die twee. Alhoewel ek mal is oor shop is ek nie mal oor boring klere shop nie. Dus die verwarring met die bank kaart se naam. Plasticus Christos of Brokezebank. Maar in geval Plasticus Christos ‘n Judas op my trek en in Brokezebank in verander het ek ook my trusty TFG kaart by my.

So vaar ons winkel na winkel in op soek na 'n broekkie en hempie. Iets wat sal werk vir die corporate wêreld. Maar nou, ek is ‘n groot ou (Paul!....focus!). Ek is 1.8 meter lank en weeg amper 130kg (nie iets waar op ek trots is nie, maar ek se maar net.) Ek dra ‘n 36 denim. Vind jy nou op die Godin se groen aarde ‘n swart broek in 36 en dan wen jy sommer ook 'n vokken Toyota.

Hulle het teering rot size (dis nou n 28) en dan het hulle nice body (32) en dan Holy Fucqing Crap (dis nou n size 44).  44, weet jy hoe vokken groot is dit? EK het niks teen groot mense nie, glad nie. Het baie groot vriende, maar as jy ‘n broek so aankyk, dan kom jy agter hoe groot is 'n 44. En ek weet nie van ander mense nie, maar ek sien nie my vriende as groot nie. Hulle is amazing mense wat ek dag in en uit mee kan gesels. Maar terug na die storie.

Teering Rot

Daar sien ek toe iets wat my rerig amper in my broek laat stoelgang (Dankie Lynn-Miri). Daar is n broek in size 27. Ja in die groot mens afdeling van die mans klere. Ek kon my vokken oë nie glo nie. ‘n 27. Weet jy hoe uit geteer ‘n 27 is? Dis ‘n teering Sprinkaan (Dankie Denise), vok dis Angelina Jolie. As jy ‘n 27 is, eet net vokken iets asseblief, ‘n toebroodtjie, enige iets, maar vokken eet net.

Ek gaan nou vir n oomblik hier vulgar wees. Dit betekin ek gaan bar, ombeskof en onder die belt wees. ‘n 27. As ek mos dit in die hande moet kry, dan breek ek sy pelvis, rugraat en kakebeen.

Right, eventually toe besluit ek dat ek nooit ‘n broek gaan kry nie en dat ek nou maar net n hemp gaan soek.  Nou vir die van julle wat nou nog nooit (mense soos ek) regte werks hemde gekoop het nie, dis moer confusing. Daar is twee nommertjies op die hemp, net so onder die kraag. En nie een van hulle het enige iets te doen met s / m / l / xl nie. Nee dis nommers soos in wiskunde. Ja mens het nou deesdae n bliksemse graad nodig om ‘n hemp te kan koop. Ek weet nou nog watter nommer beteken wat nie.  Hoe de moer moet ek dit weet. Dis nie asof enige iemand dit verduidelik nie. Daar is nie instruksies nie en probeer jy ‘n winkel assistant kry in die land wat 1, sy werk geniet en 2, actually praat sodat dit nie klink asof hy besig is om in sy mond op te gooi nie.  Nou wat doen jy? Old school.

Paul meet die hemde se arms gate teen my rug en ons sien of dit gaan pas.

Ek haal so pers nommer van die rak af, mooi kleur. Dink dit lyk so bietjie groot en ek sien Paul lyk so effe benoud. So asof hy by homself dink “As daai hemp jou pas, dan sky ek jou vet gat”. Paul meet die hemp teen my en God se waarheid dit vou so om my lyfie. Ek het lanklaas so maer gevoel. Ek voel skoons of ek nou op ‘n ramp kan gaan stap.

Natuurlik dit het nie my Pitagoras hemp nommer probleem op gelos nie. So gaan ons maar van hemp na hemp en soek iets wat lyk of dit okay gaan wees. Ek dink natuurlik dit lyk soos ‘n een man tent, maar Paul probeer hard om my gerus te stel. Ek gaan daarna, na die pas kamer toe.

Hulle is besig om Edgars oor te doen en die pas kamers is nou klaar, Dit het so 70’s retro vibe. Dis nice. Heilige Gees maar dis groot. Hoeveel spasie het mens nou rerig nodig om n hemp en of broek aan te pas? Dis so groot soos my vokken badkamer. Die hele cast van BelAmi kan hulle volgende movie daar skiet. (kom ons kyk wie gaan daai reference kry).

Dis ek op die stadium, maar watch this space.

Ek het toe ook eventually 3 hemde gekry. Kannie glo hoe duur so 'n boring stuk lap is nie, maar ok. Ek moet dit mos nou he, so wat kan man maak. Gelukkig was die skoenne koop maklik gewees. As daar mos nou een iets is wat ek ken, dan is dit skoenne koop. Het ook my eerste rooi paar skoenne gekoop. Hoer rooi. Ek love dit! Stunning!

Wel die einde van die storie kom neer dat ek lyk nou nie meer soos iets wat deel is van ‘n proef, vir werk nie. Maar die trauma was amper net te veel vir my. Die punt is, julle vroue het dit soveel makliker as mans. Julle het ‘n verskeidenheid van dinge wat julle kan dra. Rok of Romp of Broek of Leggings en amper alles is aanvaarbaar vir werk. Volgende keer as jy wat vrou is kla oor klere koop, dink aan jou arme man wat dalk ‘n 36 broek dra. Want geen vokken winkel het daai size nie. Ek het eventually een gekry, maar ek gaan nie se waar nie. Dan verloor ek my enigste plek om ‘n broek te koop.So nice is ek nogal nie.

Lekker koop.

xxx

Wedding Planner

Three things, all of you know about me by now.

1 That I am a poof. That means I am gay

2 That I am a Pagan

3 That I recently (on the 13^th of July 2013) got married

So keeping that in mind I want to tell you a little about arranging our magickal day. The planning wasn’t at all as easy as what it might have seemed. This entry is not so much about our wedding as what it is about when it comes to planning a wedding in general. But especially planning a wedding while keeping point 1 and 2 in mind.

You might think that 1 and 2 is not needed to be kept in mind but let me just tell you. They are important.

Every step, everyone that you hire, every venue that you visit, everything will be impacted by these details. Our wedding (or Handfasting as it is called in Paganism) and reception was both held at the same venue.  A beautiful hall in Milnerton. The dance floor steps down from the rest of the hall in a kind of oval shape. The ceremony was held on the dance floor and after that the floor was cleared for the dancing. Beautiful drapes and fairy lights adorned the pillars. The ceremony was openly Pagan and a blind man could see the just about pornographic gay statue on the altar, oh not to mention the two Grooms.

I am telling you this all for a reason. You have to understand that the caterer, as well as the cash bar and the DJ had to set up before the time so that they do not interrupt the ceremony. The wedding started at 17:00. Guests started to arrive by 16:00 (some a little earlier even). The caterer, bar and DJ had to be set up by the time that the guests arrived. Thankfully this was all done successfully. The catering staff, bar staff and DJ was thus going to be there for the ceremony as well. Not to mention the photographer and video camera person.

Everyone we hired had to be aware of the fact that this was a gay Pagan wedding. Not because we are over the top screaming queens, but for practical reasons.  Now thankfully we had no issue at all with any of this but can you imagine your caterer shows up and the in mid ceremony realizes what is going on. Let’s say your caterer is a serious Bible basher. Can you imagine the scene that will be caused. I imagine it to be something like this.

Caterer: This is so beautiful. (just realize that the caterer is standing on side just observing and obviously talking while the Priestess is doing her thing to the lovely couple)

Priestess: We are here to join these to souls together.

Caterer: Sjoe the Bride looks butch,, lets not judge.

Priestess: We your friends and family are here to witness your vows.

Caterer: Weird that they both wearing the same suit kind of thing, let not judge

Priestess: John and David do you come here out……

Caterer: SODOM, GEMORA!!! (at this point she whips out a bible and screams)

Can you imagine the scene. You have to inform the people that you will be working with on your BIG day about what they should and can expect. You don’t want scene’s that could have been avoided. Rather struggle to find the correct bar, that will be sensitive to all of your needs, instead of having a freak out at your wedding. Can you imagine the Bartender is a homophobe and just refuses to serve the happy couple because he thinks that handing them a drink will make him catch the gay virus and turn him. Or worse, they pack up and leave because they are offended by your ways.

Again, thankfully none of that happened to us. We had the most amazing crew on the day that made everything perfect.

For us the BIG disaster happened two weeks before the wedding when someone broke into our home and stole our wedding rings (among other things). We re-ordered our rings, but they were not in time for the wedding. Yes we were crushed, devastated, broken, but it was important to remember that even though the rings were beautiful, they were but a small part of the day. We used other rings for the day and in the mean time our rings have arrived again. We exchanged rings in a Full Moon ritual on Monday night.

When the poop does strike the fan with regards to your wedding planning, just try to remember that freaking out won’t solve it. Planning the wedding (that is if you are not using  planner) is supposed to be fun and a time of bonding for you and your partner. Paul and I did everything together. All the choices were made by the both of us and everything to do with the wedding was because both of us wanted it to that way.

Okay I am going to admit that I did have professional help. About a year or two before we got married I bought a book on how to plan a gay wedding. I read this book cover to cover. A lot of the advise I didn’t use and some I did, but it helped us. Mel can vouch for me when I say the book is full of post-it’s, to remind me of things. The book is ‘A Very Pink Wedding’ by Nicola Hill

Paul jokes (sometimes I am not so sure if he is joking) and tells people that they should rather elope, as it is easier than planning a wedding. He asked me in the week if I would do it again if we had a choice. Naturally my response was “yes I would do it again” as stressing and time consuming as what it was, I would do it again. It was a wedding straight out of a Disney movie.

xxx