As I have mentioned in earlier posts, I am the Butch Bridezilla. Recently, my horns haven’t been as sharp, the flames coming out of my mouth haven’t been as hot, but don’t let that fool you. The beast is dormant, just waiting for an opportunity to wake back up.
Within the framework of a traditional heterosexual wedding, the bride plans everything, DIYs everything with her unlucky bridesmaids and stresses out about the entire wedding. Meanwhile the groom plays X-box/Wii/Playstation/etc., occasionally getting up to grab another cold beer and offer his two cents. I occassionally watch wedding reality tv shows which make me want to reach through the television and strangle the groom-to-be. Not that the bride makes it easy to help. But still. Come on guys.
Because of our life/work schedules, I have been the one to do much of the work. FACT: realistically, I have done about 90% of the planning. Planning this wedding has gotten me incredibly organized. (Before meeting Christina, I was a Type-A’s worst nightmare: books all over the floor, papers covering my desk, laundry on the floor.) But Christina’s organizational skills have really rubbed off on me, in a very good way. Now I’m a manic organizer with bouts of disorganization that mirror chaotic moments in my life.

