Admit it, minions: every time I show you a falling-over, heinously bad wedding wreck, you judge the couple a little. You think they didn't pay enough. You think they tried to get the moon for a plumber's crack budget. I get it.
But what if I told you this is the venue for today's wreck:
Pretty, right? And probably worth a pretty penny?
Note how this looks nothing like Uncle Earl's backyard, or the back room of a dilapidated lodge.
This, my friends, is what we southerners call a classy joint.
And this is the wedding cake they served in that classy joint:
Take a minute. Soak it in.
Join me in trying to decipher the faded poo swirly things on the bottom edge, or that spiky bowl thing on top.
And regarding the pretty silver stand it's on: that's not so much lipstick on a pig as it is glass slippers on a Horta. Which is frickin' hilarious if you're an old school Star Trek fan. (The rest of you, just imagine your pile of dirty laundry... made out of pizza.)
(Or hey, just imagine this cake. They're about equal.)
Thanks to Jennifer S. for the... PAIN!!!