Firstly, have I told you lately that I love you? You. No, not you...yeah, you. But I shall refrain from spewing sappy Rod Stewart lyrics, because his daughter is an ugly, fat-skinny cow. Yeuuughhh. And I've had enough cornball tripe for one week.

So another insult from the smug-married types has unwittingly come flinging my way and clobbered me upside the head without even asking first.

I sent an e-mail to someone, trying to get them to come to my show, because I have sat through oh-so-many of theirs, and trust me - they were interminable.

Got one back saying that they couldn't come because they are too busy planning the wedding and basically rubbing my nose in their couplehood. "But have you seen our website?"

Wha...? NO. I had not. Yet, against my better judgment, I clicked on the link.

Not bad. A bit florally for my taste. The usual links depicting the sordid story of their meeting, the bride's initial rejection of the groom-to-be (small penis; she thought she could do better, but then got fat and homely, and decided to settle for his besotted ass), and what not. Then it went on to show the bride (allegedly) quoted as saying that they belong together, more than any other couple they know.

Okay, that insult was twofold. 1) They're insulting my intelligence, and 2) they're insulting anyone else in a couple who happens to be reading this saccharine nightmare.

And, (3), that's funny...because I've met the bride, and the last thing I recall her saying in regard to the groom was, "eyucccchh." Accompanied by a repulsed shaking of her head. But I don't suppose I should include that on their card, eh...?

Because I enjoy the sensation of nausea coupled with irony, I pressed on to "About the Ceremony."

...wait a minute. They password-protected that shit.

Okay. I understand the need to keep your vital details away from the general public? But c'mon. This is hardly a celebrity couple. They made me read all that barf-inducing shite, and I'm not allowed to read, IN GENERAL, about the ceremony, because I'm not a "registered guest", i.e. NOT INVITED...? But it does tell me where I can forward the gifts/money/Russian hookers for the bachelor shindig...?! I don't f.ing think so.

I want the part of my brain that icky-sticky sweetness lodged itself into surgically removed-!

Fuck them. They're not even getting a card.

But perhaps I'm being too harsh. Maybe I will FedEx them a gift...of VOMIT.