Hey Baby, I Don’t Think I Wanna Marry You…
Sunday night is slowly becoming my fave TV night. There are just so many delicious options to choose from that sometimes I feel like I am living Sophie’s Choice every time I check my DVR. Lately I have been recording Bridezillas, Amsale Girls, The Glee Project, Keeping Up with the Kardashians and Real Housewives of NJ on a weekly basis (but more on some of those later).
Bridezillas has been a favorite of mine for a long time, which should be no surprise at this point. I love weddings and I love watching people that are ridiculous. In 8 seasons, no one has ever topped my number one appointed Bridezilla of all time, Karen from Staten Island, although LaDreina “Chocolate Donut” is a close second (no wonder they edited these two beauties into the same episode!).
This show takes on a whole new meaning for me now. Being that I am 6 months post-nuptial (a moment of silence, please) most wedding shows make me depressed. I’m not exaggerating, I mean literally sad face little tears. I can’t watch Say Yes To the Dress anymore without weeping internally that I will never have Randy ask me “is this your dress??” or knowing that David Tutera is not going to swoop in at the last minute and makeover my winter themed reception (not that I needed it- my wedding was “da bomb” as LaDreina would say, although I never did get that that ice castle).
Bridezillas has the opposite effect, because instead of feeling sad that my wedding is over, I feel awesome that I am not a horrible human being. These bitches are straight up crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I was crazy. I went through periods of crazy, followed by sobbing. But I never hit my fiancee, told a bridesmaid they were too fat for a dress or threw a cake at anyone (if you’ve never watched Bridezillas before, these are all real things that I have witnessed on the show. Stop reading this and get to OnDemand, now!). Sure, I ran out of ink the night before my wedding when I had only printed 25 of 150 programs. I found myself at 3 months until the big day without the photographer I was supposed to have. I even got cut on the arm by one of my bridesmaids at the reception when I changed into my party dress (she was cutting off those hangy things) and almost bled on myself. Despite all those things, I never felt stress to the point of acting like a lunatic and possibly facing jail time. I survived, and everyone else survived, and as far as I’m concerned, I could have been a.lot.worse.
So that is my Bridezilla disclaimer. Now onto the girls:
The first ‘Zilla highlighted was Porsha, who we met last week. Now I do not want to stereotype, and this description comes with a BIG disclaimer that I am not discriminating against her for any reason, but Porsha is one of the more commonly featured Bridezillas. She is a large black woman who is a DI-VA, which we all know now is just a female version of a hustler (thank you, Beyonce). And in case you were wondering, the other breed of Brides normally featured on this program are big-haired, loudmouthed orange girls from Florida, New Jersey or… Staten Island! (Enter, Karen).
Porsha, like so many of the other ‘Zillas before her, has a perfectly nice and normal (and thin) fiance Byron, who she beats into submission on a daily basis. She is also convinced his “baby momma” is going to show up at the wedding to ruin her day. This is also a reoccurring theme on this show, as many of the Brides are SO full of themselves that they think every woman that has ever once dated, looked at or spoken to their future husbands are going to show up and make a scene to “try to ruin their day.” My favorite are the ones that threaten security- “if she think she ‘gon show up to MY weddin, she is goin to be escorted OUT by security.” Please. If you can’t afford real flowers, a DJ or clothes that fit, you most definitely do not have the budget for a security detail.
Aside from her general unpleasant demeanor, Porsha had another bad habit that I personally find disgusting, and I have been known to eat shredded cheese out of the bag as a snack. When she gets stressed, she sucks her thumb. Oh, by the way, she’s 28.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the opening scene featured Porsha trying to squeeze herself into a salon massage chair at the nail salon, as a bridesmaid fed her a fast food burger and while Lois, the poor pedicurist was faced with the daunting task of attempting to saw off the calloused bunions on her feet.
Next we met Gloria from somewhere in Bad Accent, NY. As if being an anxious crybaby wasn’t unappealing enough, Gloria is rocking some very 90’s scrunched hair that you could tell required half a bottle of L.A. Looks. Ironically, later in the episode Gloria claims that her hair is falling out due to wedding stress. Stress, or maybe her hair is jumping ship to get far, far away from the abuse. After meeting her mother however, it wasn’t hard to see that the apple did not fall far from the tacky tree. Gloria’s mom actually declared that no one was going to “take her out of the 70’s,” which kind of didn’t need to said as her hair said it all for her. When Gloria suggested a classier style, her mother scoffed at the idea of a French twist, because she “doesn’t like anything with the word twist in it.” Duh.
I found Gloria to be an all around bore, and maybe her personality would be better featured on a show called Weepzilla, because that is all she did throughout her entire episode. Where was the hair pulling, the forced bridesmaid diet, the bouquet-throwing? I do have to point out my favorite Gloria moment, when she was prodding her mom at the salon to please let one of those nice people attempt to style her witchy Anjelica Houston bangs into something presentable. As her mom continued to refuse their service, Gloria pleaded for her to relent, if only for her special day because (and these words are VERBATIM because I rewound it at least three times to make sure I heard it right), “How many times am I gonna get married?! Okay?! This is my second time.” Thank you Gloria, for being the most forgettable Bridezilla so far this season but also possibly the most insightful.
Back to Porsha! The Divine Miss P was driving around Mississippi in her car prank calling Byron’s friends to find out details about his supposed sordid bachelor party. She thought she was real smart calling one of his boys and pretending to be a dude inquiring about the soiree’s location. She squealed with delight that said boy was so dumb he couldn’t tell by her voice that she was a man or a woman. Uh, Porsha, I’m LOOKING at you and I’m still not totally convinced either way.
Porsha’s main concern of course, was Byron’s bachelorette party. Per usual demand by a Bridezilla, there were to be NO STRIPPERS entertaining the gentleman. In an odd twist of double standards, Porsha shows up to her own bachelorette party with her good hair on and a dress that looks like it was fashioned out of 20 irregular satin scarves (which sadly, still was not enough coverage) expecting to see “12 inches of you know what” all up her face. Direct quote. Said party was held in a “club” that looked like it was fashioned out of a tin can and I’m pretty sure was just in someone’s back yard, because all of the beverages appeared to be served in Dixie cups.
Porsha then headed to the VIP room, which the Bridezilla voice over lady points out is most likely the attic (always the voice of reason), and suddenly the once outlandish Porsha is nervous and demure. “I’m not ready!” she declares under her breath, which I found hard to believe because she seemed prepared with a stack of $1 bills. Suddenly a very large oiled up man enters the room with what appears to be his pants halfway down his thighs (it was hard to tell with all the pixelation). I would like to take this moment to point out that in all my years of watching this show, this is the first time that I’ve ever seen an episode prefaced with a disclaimer warning the audience of “sexual situations.” If you really need to see what happens next, I’m sure you can find the replay of this episode at least 30 more times this week on WE, but I’m warning you- please do so on an empty stomach.
Finally it was time for Porsha’s “wedding of the century.” The girls showed up for the ever necessary second rehearsal (?) at the “venue.” I apologize for the sheer amount of quotation marks in this post, but using the word venue to describe Porsha’s wedding location gives a bad name to all reception sites that ever were or will be. The only way I can describe it is a makeshift auditorium, complete with concrete floors, folding chairs, and those collapsable wood benches that you see shoved to the side in a high school gym when there isn’t a basketball game going on.
Sigh. I miss Porsha already. Next week it’s more Gloria (yawn) and some broad named Tricia who is apparently having a “Bro’s and Ho’s” themed wedding. I’m not quite sure what that is, but it sounds awesome…ly bad. And anyone that knows me knows I love a good theme.
Get Snappy
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