The Blues

On Hothouse Hysteria

On May 6, 2010, in Uncategorized, by Rosie

The Modern Bride’s Handbook – The Final 11

Yesterday, we had a visit from the floral fascist, Beibbee, the Bridal Bouquet. Knowing it is lined up to be in Bridezilla’s fingers come The Big Day, Beibbee was sent into the trenches by fleur family, friends and foe to speaking openly about the hazards of ‘throwing the bridal bouquet’. AND other issues pertaining to marital flowers.

Don’t know about you, but I am now a Bridal Bouquet Sympathizer. Come the Big Day, I shall wear a corsage ‘pon my left arm, pat it with a two-fingered salute during moments of bonded flowerhood, and sing The Anthem — the first verse of ‘Build me up, Buttercup’ — whenever solidarity is required:

If the bouquet throwing proceeds (it is proposed @ 5.20pm) I am ready to fight in the Bonbon Yeri Amar-garden (more on that plan, later, although it is top secret and involves bullet-like almonds enclosed in sucrose from the stem of sugar cane).

Although it’s difficult to tell in this blog, I have a fondness for both Bridezilla and her gorgeous Groomenstein. I want to prevent a situation like this one, described in an article just off the press at the Hothouse News:

warning: some details of this article may be disturbing to the mentally intact or the botanically inclined.

Wednesday, May 5. Sydney Australia. 3pm EST.

In a wedding anecdote directly from the annuls of a horror movie, a 28-year old bride learnt the hard way that the Bridal Bouquet Uprising and Revolroot-shun is NO joke.

Carrying a classic, dozen multi-coloured rose bouquet designed (and prepared for WAR) by a self-important floristry, Harbourside, the bride had no qualms about tossing the magnificence over her head into the arms of the waiting sluts spinsters (perhaps the former word is more preferable here?)

JUST prior to release, the roses (CODENAME: Potpourri) released an organic, specially-made dye bomb onto the dress, veil, shoes, hosiery, décolletage AND face of the bride. It’s permanent. Mid-air, Potpourri manipulated and discharged a very organically noxious stink weapon of *gasp* destruction. Reportedly, the effects on the nasal senses of all within a ten metre radius are long lasting, with evidence suggesting the odour can be smelt for up to two weeks post detonation!

Finally, as Potpourri descended into the arms of Spinster 1, it spontaneously erupted. With petals flailing everywhere, the Martyr Potpourri embedded it’s colour into the noses, lips and eyes of everyone forming the group of the Bridal Bouquet Grasping Society. Extra dye was released. The odour is ongoing.

Reports just to hand indicate that a number of victims had been taken straight to hospital where Botanical Garden specialists are being called in to perform petaldoctomies (extraction of petals) and chlorophyllectomies (removal of colour).

Witnesses say that they overheard guests vowing never to throw Bridal Bouquets again, although the Australian Prime Minister immediately declared ‘the country will never bow to terror (firmer) ests’.

According to sources, the Martyr Potpourri will go straight to Celestial Greenery , where it will have the choice of having their stigma stimulated by 70 native vergilias, or be left to propagate in peace. But, goodness, it will be wealthy and well rewarded for its service to the cause!

As a family member of the Bridal Bouquet Uprising and Revolroot-shun, I appeal to Bridezilla to show some wisdom. Please don’t inflame the situation. We may all end up rooted.