James’s Blog

_{The $28,000 Question-Comment}

History: This is from a blog entry on the website: www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com.  This is MY comment after reading all the rest of the entries.  As you can see, I was pretty faded.  Still, I got a few jabs in, although, I will admit, my roundhouse SUCKS.  Actually, it’s so bad it’s Teh Sux.  I’ll work on it while you’re reading. By the way, this is a really great blog, and a really great website.  Too bad about his crazy readers.

You know, at first I thought the whole idea of commenting on a comment about weddings was stupid. Then, I started to read, and all of a sudden I got it. . .these comments, like the weddings that spawned them, are all about declaring who you are to the world. What a frightening idea. However, as I said, I’ve been inspired to make my own comments, and here we go.

First, I don’t think the cost of the wedding matters as much as how it comports with YOUR view on weddings, and marriage, and what not. But more importantly, Ramit’s point seems to have been largely missed. All he was saying was that it’s important to save for your wedding and PLAN for what it’s going to end up to be. He mentioned the $28,000 cost average simply as one of the facts that should be considered. If he’d decided to comment on, say, the average price of a car, and how it’s important to save up for the down payment, maybe things wouldn’t have spun so out of control. On the other hand, people love their cars. Ramit, they say the road to hell, and aggravating frustration, is paved with good intentions.

Ramit’s good intentions which have become evil devilspawn to the contrary, I’m going to put my own very head in the lion’s mouth by commenting on some of the right dumb ideas I’ve heard expressed here today. I almost certainly have better things to do with my time, but, since I’m here anyway, here we go. And, with the exception of Ashley, none of you people are invited. Except, of course, Ashley’s hunk. I’ve never seen a Chinese hunk, and I’m dying to. Mine, of course, is from Taiwan.

Let’s go element by element. There’s no particular order, except the order in which my enfeebled brain will recall them. Please keep your hands and arms inside the rides at all times. Here we go:

1. The Rings: Oh, f that cheap rings are good rings argument. I’m totally spending on a ring. And so is he. It’s a symbol, it’s traditional, and, besides that, even though I hate jewelry, my hands were BORN to wear it. I think cheaping out on a ring not only shows you’re cheap in a to-the-bone deep way, but also that you’re unwilling to advertise the fact that you’re no longer on the market. And that you’re cheap. And you lack commitment. Did I mention that you’re also a cheap bastard ya cheap bastard? Just asking.

2. Wedding Dress: It’s a wedding for frick’s sake. It deserves a dress. And you’re a bride. And, unless you have some longing need to prove that Mrs. McKenna, she of Home Ec fame, was wrong, and you really COULD make a dress, you really really could, there’s no good reason to make your own freaking dress. With the respect to the argument that it’s a cool $800 dollars for something that you’ll only wear the one time. . .that’s like saying I shouldn’t buy this amazing bottle of wine (or champagne) because I’ll only get to drink it once. As if I’d want to drink it a second time. What a stupid argument. It’s your wedding for Pete’s sake. Suck it up. Or else send me the money and I’ll buy that damn bottle of champagne and never, ever open it. I swear.

3. Low-balling the priest/officiator: Four words: You’re. Going. To. wait for it. . ..HELL! And you should. At least split the difference and have one fewer colour of Jordan Almonds and give the guy a few hundred bucks ($300 and not a penny less, you tightass). I don’t know for SURE that it’ll help you out with whatever deity or non-diety you believe or don’t believe in, but, just in case, it doesn’t hurt. And even if God is dead, she’s almost certain to have passed on a list to Karma. . .you don’t wanna go messing around with that.

4. The Limo: What, are you kidding? How often, unless you’re an evil corporate officer/raider type, do you really get to go tootin’ around in a limo? I KNOW, it’s expensive. So is not doing cool shit you’ve always wanted to do. When CATS came to my town, my friends and I rented a Limo to take us to the show, hang out during the show, and drive us around all night while we partied. It cost many, many dollars. And it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Don’t be a punk, spring for the Limo. BTW, the limo ride was way, WAY better than the show.

5. Food. Seriously, I don’t where all those OTHER wedding people went, but totally great food and drink are really, other than seeing your friends and loved ones admit in public that they’re settling, the only reason anyone ever comes to a wedding. Or, at least a reception. The best wedding I ever went to heavily back-loaded the reception with all the great stuff. In fact, they didn’t even serve the cake there. It was a pre-reception, wine, finger foods, etc; the wedding (do you? will you? have you? kiss her!), and the obligatory cake-hole stuffing (bi-lateral, in this case. Or, put another way, Mutually Assured Stupid-Looking). And then, it was off to the races, I mean reception, where, as the evening progressed, I am ashamed to admit, my previously innocent attraction to one of my kissing-cousins took a dangerous turn. Luckily, my then current sexual partner was there to remind me that I don’t like girls. (Whew! Dodged a bullet there.)

What followed was a riot of great food, great booze, hours of laughter, and not even ONE successful conviction. Well, maybe one, but I’m up for parole in a matter of weeks, so it’s all good.

My point is that food and drink are key. No, you don’t have to rent the Penthouse Suite at the Las Vegas Hoo De Hoo, or even the Portland Hoo De Hoo, and most especially not the New York Hoo De Hoo (the Hoodiest Hoo of all!), but I think you have to pay attention. After all, we know a guest is a guest, but, really, most all good weddings are about crab puffs and roll-up sandwiches. The bride and groom? Merely afterthoughts.

6. Slave labour. This is disturbing. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being able to count on friends and family to help me get what I want (in this case marriage), but I would never use it as a strategy. And I come from a long family of amazing cooks, who always bring a dish to everything (”Sorry about your crushing chest injury under a tractor there, Bob, but I brought some green bean casserole and a shoo-fly pie. Just have a little drop!”). Having said all this, I think it’s worth having a ittybitty budget for food and drink. Besides, once everybody’s back in the room, there’ll be other things to occupy their minds.

7. The Suite: Absolutely necessary. First of all, all good weddings go deep into the night. Second, it’s always SOMETHING. Having a room is a good way to make sure that stuff can get dropped off, you can sit down when (not if) you begin to spasm, and everybody can go by for a quick whiff of, um, AIR, yeah, air, to refresh themselves. Not that I or anyone here would ever need or want air, I’m just saying. Also, since I plan to party deep into the night, Ima need somewhere to crash before we head out to the honeymoon. And, of course, there’s the post-wedding, pre-reception bang-the-f-out-my-husband-for-a-good-hour-or-two-fest that WILL happen about five minutes after the wedding. You don’t think the wedding/reception break is an accident, do you?

8. The Honeymoon: That stuff about staying close is crap. But DO consider the idea of staying close the FIRST night. You want your Honeymoon to be memorable, otherwise you’re just going to have to pay for one in five or ten years “to make up for the Honeymoon we never really got.” She’ll say it anyway, no matter where you go (”But, honey, I really REALLY thought that renting Tahiti for ten days qualified as a honeymoon”), so you might as well do it up for the first one. On the good side, you TOTALLY get to use a great honeymoon as a credit against the cost of a REAL (her words, not mine), (i.e. second). honeymoon.

9. The tux: An absolute necessity. Even if it’s just the formalization of an illicit and torrid affair with his high school gym teacher, oh, but enough about me. . .even if it IS just that, every man owes his mother the courtesy of seeing him dressed up once in his life, and despite the fact that most of you can’t carry it off at ALL, you should also dress up for your adoring wife, given that she’s probably a lot better people than you are, anyway. Besides, speaking as someone who’s been around a LOT of cater-waiters, undressing someone in a tux is HOT. She’ll love it.

10. Dearly Beloved: There are just some people you have to invite. But men, fear not. . .you will be advised of who they are within seconds of offering your plea, or plying your troth, or doing whatever it is betrotheds do when they’re betrothing. Daughters, no matter how you slice it, if you have ANY kind of a relationship with your mother in which you communicate, your wedding is HER wedding, so you might as well just shut up about it now. And sons, your wedding is mama’s wedding as well, and if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, especially that bitch mother-in-law of yours (isn’t it amazing how fast your fiancée’s mother became that bitch mother-in-law of yours? And vice versa.). And you all wondered why half of all marriages fail. This is why. Anyway, you still have to invite everyone who could possibly cause you pain in the future if they weren’t invited. I mean, I KNOW that crazy-ass cousin of yours gets on your nerves, but, if you don’t invite her, she’ll be on her mother for years, who’ll be on YOUR mother for years, who’ll be on YOU for years, which will cause you to eat too much Toasted Pound Cake with Ice Cream and Chocolate, which will piss you off, which will cause you to take it out on your otherwise totally delightful husband, who will never NEVER understand that when you attack him for doing absolutely nothing wrong, it’s because of that bitch Cassie, who you should have invited to your frickin’ wedding, it’s only ONE invitation, right? How could I have been so frickin’ stupid? But your experience might be different.

However, I did find a good way to partially stave off the attacks. Just do this before they start heating up the oil: “Mom,” you say, “Mom, me and Wilfredo only have (this much money) to do the wedding, and that’s it. Anything else (by which you mean her dumb ass idea/order), is an extra we just can’t afford. But I love it, I really do. I just wish we could do it. . .(voice trailing off wistfully). And, in that subtle, sneaky way you do, just look off into the distance whilst communicating pain and sincerity. Like when you borrowed the car for Prom. Eventually, they’ll give up and find something else to screw with you about, or they’ll offer to pay. And then, it’s round two. And, oh, by the way, if you accept their offer, you don’t get to bitch about her mother’s control issues. Even though you’re right. And his mother’s no prize either.

In any event, if you aren’t flush with cash, arrange everything EVERYTHING so that, if someone isn’t invited, it’s someone else’s fault, but not and never YOUR fault. BTW, you should also try to find a way to make your spouse guilt-free, otherwise you might have to pay for that in your marriage, once the crazyhot hot sex cools off.

12. DJ: This one, I’m not so sure about. On the one hand, I don’t like going to weddings with a DJ who has a PROGRAM. Everybody over here, say this do that, bite this, f- that. I hate that crap. Weddings, no matter whatever ELSE they are, are supposed to be fun. I don’t need a little fascist in a stupid t-shirt (that probably says “I’m with stupid” and he’s a solo act. . .geddit?) to tell me what to do. Except for the Chicken Dance, which I love, but who doesn’t?

On the other hand, think about your friends and family. Now, think about their musical taste. And the fact that they’ll almost invariably want to help, or, um “DeeJay” for you. And, think about the fact that they’ll be deejaying on your own very equipment. Now weigh the potential actual costs (cost for all your electrical/musical equipment? A freakin’ lot), as well as the frayed nerves, potential exhaustion, and very real possibility that you might lose a friend, or an eye, and compare to the cost of a “real” DJ. You do anything you want, cupcake, but I’m willing to go without a second latte every Friday for a long damn time to pay someone else to deal with the music. And, besides, I love that chicken dance.

13. Venue: Let’s face it, if they call it a venue, it’s too damn expensive. This is extremely personal, and yet, I’m still going to tell you what to do. Make one of two choices. . .inside or outside. Outside? Fine, I think you should go to a park. Inside? Go to some form of “Church” if you’re religious, or the Town Hall, or appropriate location, if you are not. Your guests most probably don’t care. And, as I said before, and I’m right. . .it’s mostly the reception, not the wedding.

There’s more, I’m sure, and I already know that I’ll be ticked off when I close this chapter and move on to something that’s actually of use to someone in society, but, I have to admit, I feel a LOT better.

Although, now that I think about it, I am absolutely committed to not ever, ever, EVER getting married, ever. Someone needs to tell my mother.

Warm Regards,

James.

Disambigu-what?

So there I was, minding my own damn business, and cruising the web, as I am wont to do from time to time (I call it playing hooky from the Universe. . .nobody knows why).  And there before me was a word I’d never seen before.  Disambiguation.  From the Latin for “I’m making this up all on my own.”  Disambiguation, the web tells us, means, um, something like “clearing up the confusion.”  Okay, not really.  It sort of means not leaving your intended meaning to chance.  At least that’s what I gathered.

It got me to thinking about all the stuff we do to ourselves as business-people to not only aim at our own feet, but shoot right at them.  Sadly, we rarely miss.  In the process of trying to sound all businessy, or professional, or both, we sometimes cloud the meaning of what we’re trying to say.

Take me, and my deal.  My company has been called “Southwest Esthetic Services” since I formed it. . .in fact, that’s why I formed it.  Because I wanted to say “Hey, world. . .here I am, ready to, you know, provide services to the Esthetics Industry.”  And that’s great if you know what “esthetic” means, but most people don’t.  And, especially in the real world, most people who probably need to know what I do, uh. . . don’t.

How do I know?  Because for more years than I care to admit right now, fully 70 to 80 percent of people, when I tell them either what I do or who I am (in the sense of my company), their eyes glaze over, and then, invariably, they utter the words you never, ever, never want to hear: “What’s that?”

In a sense, I think most of us think that’s a good thing.  After all, you DO want people to ask you to tell them your story, and there’s something to be said for having that opening. . .you get more time to pitch.  And when I’m talking to other Estheticians, it IS a good thing.  And, truth be told, I mostly work for Estheticians, or vendors who SELL to Estheticians, so, all in all, it’s probably not a BAD thing per se.

Nevertheless, there’s something to be said for being clear with the whole world as to what it is you do.  When you meet Harry the Electrician, you know, immediately, that he’s an Electrician.  Bob the Mechanic.  Sam the Nurse.  Polly the Plumber.  Mikey the Chef. It’s immediate, and resonant, and salient, and impactful.  Also, you’ve already framed what you do in a context that the potential client (or, in my case, victim. . .I mean, alleged victim), understands.

When we disambiguate, we make what could otherwise be confusing, or time-wasting, both less confusing and more efficient, at least from the standpoint of the potential client.  Think about it.  While the term isn’t really hard to understand, Esthetician isn’t the most common word in the world.  Even our brothers and sisters in the cosmetology world mostly call themselves hairdressers, hairstylists, colorists, or whatever.  Yes, some refer to themselves as cosmetologists, but most of the people I know in that field say they’re “beauticians.”  Got it.  Beauty.  Pretty.  Me.

And what about Skincare?  Well, people get it.  Immediately.  They know skin.  They know care.  Skincare.  Almost as easy as Lunch Lady (“Hello, I’m Clara, and I’m a Lunch Lady”).  They just get it.

Does disambiguation work?  I dunno, only time will tell.  But I changed the name of my company to Southwest Skincare, and my title to Skincare Specialist.  And already, I’ve noticed a difference.  I spend less time describing myself (“Whut the hell’s that?”), and more time describing what I do and why a potential client should care.  Am I more than just, um, skincare?  Well, yeah.  But mostly people don’t care, and, anyway, I now have more time to expand on what “else” I do besides skincare.

Now, if only I didn’t crack up every time I said, or wrote. . . disambiguation.

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