North vs. South - nuptial style

Folks are always asking me differences between the South (land of my birth) and the North (land of my residency), and well, while they do talk differently, and move at varied paces, I must say that the greatest difference has got to be how each side throws a wedding. I mean to tell you, nuptials in the North are like an excuse to throw money away. Seriously I do not need a heart-shaped bottle stopper for attending your wedding. What I need is a good drunk and piece of cake, just like my Daddy always said.

Instead, Yankees feel compelled to throw these formal soirees and spend months agonizing over the seating chart. Down South, we just invite the whole family and they can stand wherever they like cause we’re not trying to get in the middle of Aunt Betty’s longstanding feud with Aunt Suzy over who should have taken Bubba to the junior prom. If folks don’t like each other, they can just go to other side of the room or duke it out in the parking lot, but seating charts just do not exist.

Yankee receptions are just about the most wasteful events you’ve ever seen. Sweetpotato and I recently attended one that had,and I am not kiddin', a Leaning Tower of Cheesa, made entirely of carved Parmesan. That was dwarfed beside some multi-tiered architectural structure made of prosciutto – meat that, if ever consumed in the South is referred to as bacon. Now we might have the side of a pig laid out in the back yard in a slow-cooker, but we would not put the head in the middle of a buffet line with a cigar hanging from it’s snout and Ray-Bans over it’s eyes. First of all, we cannot afford Ray-Bans, and if we could they would certainly NOT be decorating a pig’s head.

Of course this feast was served BEFORE we sat down to a four-course meal finished off with the waiters performing a choreographed number with flaming dessert trays, and the bride and groom entering in the frenzy of a laser light show. Now there was a dessert buffet, which I entirely support, though such things are problematic if you only have two hands. Thankfully, I had Sweetpotato to carry my auxiliary plate;-) And for all that food, I couldn’t spot a lick of barbeque, coleslaw, not a single pork-n-bean to save my life. Exactly what kind of “wedding food” doesn’t include a pig-in-a-blanket? And though I was well fed, I just can’t for the life of me figure out how this bride and groom are any more married than the folks cutting the cake at the Elks Lodge? You can get just as drunk on a keg of Busch Light and a box o’ wine, an idea my family has been operating under for 40 years.

And let’s not forget the bridesmaids, I mean these Yankee girls just don’t know what they’re doing, picking out these sleek, black, figure-flattering numbers. Now a Southern bride knows how to make sure she looks better than anyone else in the wedding party, which is why she carefully selects her bridesmaids, making sure that no matter how much she weighs, her attendants are at least 75 lbs. heavier than she. The groomsmen, on the other hand, should weigh no more than 75 lbs. to further emphasize just how much weight the girls have gained since high school (of course it’s a thyroid condition and has nothing to do with their twice-daily Bojangles biscuit runs).

And why would you want them in elegant, understated gowns, when you can have them wear magenta taffeta with gigantic satin bows on their asses? Being a bride is not about having your friends around to share in your joy, it’s about revenge! It’s about making sure Tammy looks as fat and floppy as she made you look at her wedding (that tasteless affair where they ran out of champagne punch!). Why on earth these Yankee girls feel it necessary for their friends to look pretty is just beyond me.

And the final divisive issue between Northern and Southern weddings…the getaway car. Apparently the new thing up here is to exit elegantly in a classic Roles Royce, but I just don’t know how you can consider yourselves newlyweds unless you’re driving a shaving-cream covered pick-up trunk with beer cans clanging from the tailpipe! And I’m sure the Yanks think they’re have a great ol’ time at their stuffy sit-down affairs, but until you’ve shagged barefoot to beach music holding your Bud Light in one hand and your 2-year-old cousin in the other, you really haven’t celebrated in style. God Bless the Mason-Dixon!!