Much I Do About Nothing

I'm late to the party on this one, but the New York Times Wedding section is AWESOME. Sure, I had read the blogs, the special Gawker scorecard section, and even watched the episode of Sex and the City where Carrie calls it the "straight woman's sports pages". It's more than that, people. It's like crack candy coated in hilarity, served with a side of deep class anxiety. I've been reading the archives obsessively for the past few days, and have decided- in spite of my deep antipathy about the institution of matrimony- that my new life goal is to make it into this section. I just need a Lee Von Acker IV, complete with diplomas from NYU and Harvard, to make my dreams of seeing the following paragraph a reality:

"The bride dropped out of McGill after receiving a vision telling her that tarot card reader was her true vocation. Her father is Michel Protagitron, a retired elementary school librarian who openly despises her spouse's wealth. Her mother, Deborah, was a cataloguer for the Terry James Resource Centre, but would like to remind the bride of the sacrifices she made as a stay at home mother. Her brother, Nathaniel, could not attend the wedding as he was in Singapore contacting Hepatitis from a questionable tattoo of a tiger while on tour with his band.

The bridegroom's father is Harper Von Acker, the noted Nobel Laureate economist and advisor to the current President. The bridegroom's mother is head of oncology at John Hopkins University. He is stepson to John Landis, head of consulting firm OmniCial, and Faye Thompkins, director of the New York Symphony Orchestra."

Or should I say that used to be my goal- before I realized that I could never top the wedding of one Couper Samuelson and (the very pretty) Julia Boorstin? My reaction to this article was a complex, multi-faceted thing. Let's take it chronologically:

"IT is a truth not universally acknowledged that a single man who meets his wife-to-be at the Sundance Film Festival is likely to make his proposal of marriage a cinematic one."
Okay, treacly- but the fault of the writer, not theirs.
“He’s 6-6 and cute,” she said. “How could you miss him?”
Aww, that's cute.
[picture of bride and her father]
Okay, totally cute.
“Couper was walking around, studying all the photographs of Julia and marking his territory,” she recalled. “I said to my husband, ‘He’s going to marry her.’”
Wait... do you really mean "marking his territory" author lady? Because not only is that grossly sexist, but there's a certain unfortunate mental image there.
"The couple also learned that Ms. Boorstin’s late grandfather, the Pulitzer-winning historian Daniel J. Boorstin, had been friends with Mr. Samuelson’s grandfather, the Nobel laureate economist Paul A. Samuelson."
I take it all back. Death to the bourgeoisie swine and their outrageous pedigree!
Rabbi Jonathan Klein said, “May your life together be as sweet as a chocolate sundae topped with sprinkles of exquisite romance.”
Rabbi Klein was surprised, months later, by an irate Canadian on his doorstep. As he later related to police, she screamed "Chocolate turd! Sprinkles of pain!", kicked him in the nuts, then departed.

Oh well. I suppose all the best to Couper and Julia. I don't know them, I'll probably never run in their circles, or even outside the gilded arena that houses their circles, but I kind of hope they manage to beat the stats on separation and divorce. And to all my friends, coupled or single, may your life somehow be as sweet as a chocolate sundae. Hold the romance sprinkles if you want.