I got married! And I moved to Norway!
- OMG WE DID IT U GUYZ. Photograph by Amber Marlow.
I had a dream. Then I googled "custom talking pull string toy" and my dream deflated with a thin, pitiful squeal ending with a blubbering balloon fart. The dream isn't completely dead—somewhere in China there's a factory with my dream inside of it, as long as I order a minimum of 3,000 pieces of that dream. But I was thinking something easier, a single digit commitment more along the lines of those creepy custom 3D-printed figurines mixed with Build-A-Bear Workshop, plus a plastic ring tied to a string. (I know I'm not the only person who wants custom talking pull-string toy. This random person of Internet's past knows what I'm talking about.)
So there will never be a pull-string toy based on me on my wedding day. And thus I have preemptively made landfills less filled. But if there were, this is the list of phrases the toy would have stored in its plastic voice box:
"WHERE'S THE COTTON CANDY MACHINE?"
"WHO'S GONNA PUT THE COTTON CANDY MACHINE TOGETHER?"
"WHAT? PEOPLE ARE HERE ALREADY?"
"CRAP, WHERE'S THE WATER?"
"THERE'S BEER NOW!"
"WANNA LEFTOVER PORK? TAKE A PORK BAG!"
"PORK BAG? PORK BAG? PORK BAG?"
"OH GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THE GLOW STICKS!"
"WANNA ROAST MARSHMALLOWS? TAKE A STICK!"
"HEY EVERYONE, PARTY'S OVER, WE HAVE TO CLEAN UP NOW!"
I yelled a lot at my wedding. Not in the bridezilla "DO MY BIDDING" sense, but in the "I'm trying to convey information to a bunch of people at once and I don't know how else to do it because I don't have a bullhorn" sense. Considering loads of people were eating cotton candy, all the pork and marshmallows were consumed, there were no leftover glow sticks, and no one keeled over from dehydration, the yelling worked. Also, I think all that collective activity means people had fun.
