"why do all you guys sit on your helmets?"

Okay, I've been pretty good about keeping my wedding rants to myself. I hope you'll excuse me now for engaging in an few.

If you are a dj or the proprietor of a dj service, do not leave a snarky, rambling message on my answering machine while I'm dropping off my fiance at the car rental place so he can disappear doing mysterious "bachelor party" type things for fourteen hours. I'm already stressed out. I don't need to come home to a "I received your play list and this isn't really what we do" message including such gems as "that's not traditional wedding music" and "you've programmed four hours of music." Especially with that tone, and especially because my fiance is your designated contact person (as outlined in the letter that accompanied the four-hour playlist). You don't really want me to call you back. Because I'd verbally castrate you. It's also not appropriate to follow-up on this message by calling my fiance's cell phone while he is at said bachelor party. He doesn't want to deal with your shit either. We're paying you. You can wait until Monday when you've remembered to take your medication.

If you are a wedding officiant, and you need to be out of work, which is the only contact information that the bride-to-be has for you, for several weeks, it would be nice if you told her where to find you. That way, she doesn't leave multiple voicemails, send faxes, and emails to confirm the final ceremony details and then freak out when her mother notes that the local paper has noted your absence from public meetings over the past month, thereby making the bride wonder whether you're in any shape to preside over her wedding in three weeks. Thank you, however, for finally calling this morning and apologizing for making me nervous. I'm really trying to believe you when you say that you're good to perform the ceremony. In the meantime, I'm taking comfort in the fact that my dad was ordained by the internet.

Finally, if you have been invited to a wedding, please, for the love of all that is holy, respond before the response deadline. These aren't arbitrary dates set to inconvenience your search for a date; they're set to accomodate the demands of the reception site (about which I'm sure I'll have a good rant in another week or so). There's only so many hours I have in a day: I can't spend them tracking your butt down (this means you, Grandma); I need to spend them beating some sense into the people behind the scenes.

T-minus 23 days.

End rant.