Universal Studios, Orlando-A bachelorette party, which required guests to spend over $400 on disposable bride themed swag and take a full week off work, proved to be a truly unforgettable and not at all burdensome experience after a boomerang surfaced of party attendees boastfully cheersing plastic champagne flutes full of Barefoot Rosé.
“It took about 20 minutes to get the right boomerang, but that kind of persistence, adherence to personal branding, and disregard of interests outside of Instagram is what THIS bride tribe is all about…am I right ladies?!? Who’s having a good fucking time!?” screamed Kelli Barnett while dragging the hungover and sunburnt group of girls to get their picture taken with a wax statue of Draco Malfoy at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Because the heavily curated and patrolled bachelorette Instagram hashtag permitted only joyous, albeit naturally joyous and not doctored looking posts, the rest of the world can only imagine the underlying misery. A weekend distilled into tears and vomit.
“What we lack in personality, we make up for in sheer volume of posts…I mean…we’re all just a little EXTRA…mmmmkayyy?” continued Barnett furiously applying filters to a dreadful looking picture.
A couple eager to decorate their apartment with some homemade art were sorely disappointed after discovering the two paintings from their Wine & Paint class were not only identical, but also complete abominations. “I guess in hindsight we should have anticipated them being identical, but there was no way to foresee the gross over-estimation in our creative ability.” Said 29 year-old Robert Mansfield staring glumly at the atrocity in front of him. His wife’s was equally disgraceful, an embarrassing mess of excessive acrylics.
The night before they had deemed them their life’s work.
“We honestly thought they were pretty good…who wouldn’t want a painting of a ship and a full moon with the saying Swim to your Dreams under it…it seemed incredibly original to us, something to really make our apartment stand out.” Continued Mansfield with his head planted firmly in his hands. Him and his wife oblivious to the fact that there have been several hundred other versions of this painting made from the class in varying degrees of crappiness.
It took several weeks but the honeymoon phase with the paintings they had convinced themselves were somehow good finally ended one fateful Wednesday night. Rob described walking by the two paintings and having a moment of clarity that snapped him from his previous delusional state. “They’re really bad, I was drunk off red wine again for the first time since that night and finally noticed the ugliness; my stomach hurts looking at them.” Said Mansfield crudely jamming the paintings into the dumpster.
Not everyone snaps out of the delusion like Rob, hundreds of basic paintings hang around houses as we speak, so be weird and for the love of God don’t do wine and paint.
Though it’s only June and weather has been downright comfortable, perhaps even bordering on delightful, one Chicago couple is already exhausted with the glimpse of summer that makes enduring brutal winters year after year all worth it. Trevor Parker and his wife Jane Scott-Parker maintain that though grilling, the beach, music festivals, drinking on roofs, biking and otherwise letting the sun breathe life into your pale, lifeless, winter body are all fine and well, they are ready for it to all be over.
“I’m just ready to put on my UGGS and oversized Pendleton sweater, watch Netflix and drink hot apple cider,” said Scott-Parker looking exasperatedly at the sun. “SO ready for fall,” giggled her husband approvingly, longing for the lumber sexual identity that serves as sufficient camouflage for having no real personality of his own. Both maintained that summer is noticeably absent of anything cozy and furthermore layering is kept at a depressing minimum.
“There are two things I love; Fall and my little Pumpkin Spice Latte Snuggle Monkey right here,” continued Parker, his back sweat reaching critical levels while trying to force through a flannel day as soon as the temperature dipped below 83 degrees.
The couple joins an ever growing movement of tedious autumn enthusiasts that for perplexing reasons are obsessed only with the notion of coziness. These people forget that there’s a sleeping giant lying in the wake, ready to make our lives hell as soon as the temperature begins to drop. This couple and anyone else ready for fall can fuck off.