The Fort Worth Bridal Convention, Part III

Continuing where we left off...
A little club soda and that will all come out.

Don't you hate it when you forget about the sour cream in the back of the fridge?

The red things?  Why to the harness the parachute, of course!

It matches the coffee stains you'd otherwise have collected attempting to sober up from the bachelorette party the night before.

Everything below her knees says this is a work in progress.

The tux is classic, but the hair says he's still in 1978 aboard the Battlestar Galactica.

There's no faster way to screw up a simple, elegant design than to throw a bolt of mesh on your head and call it a veil.

Apparently the cats mistook her for a scratching post.

The excessive jewels serve to warn unsuspecting motorists that a bride has stepped out of the vehicle and will be cutting the marriage very, very short.

Pink?  Come on!  As if appearing as a model in a bridal show wasn't emasculating enough already.

This represents the moment when the popularity of Grey's Anatomy peaked.

Behind her, Evel Knievel is revving up to make his jump over the rest of the runway.

This one comes with a dust cover.

"That one, officer.  That's the bitch who was kissing my boyfriend at the reception!"

What's she so happy about?  That I was there to make fun of the dresses?  Nope.  All the cake.

Alexplored 1/21/07.  All images and snotty comments, copyright 2007 Alexplorer.
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