So I met up with Chelsea* this morning to get my DIY plan. I must say, I'm very impressed. It's chock-full of fun, fresh, and creative ideas. Ideas I wish I could claim as my own. Unfortunately, my design aesthetic is still stuck in 1998.
Armed with my delightfully foolproof plan, my good friend and I head over for my first venture through an event rental warehouse. I have no idea what I am in for.
We are met by an awkwardly giddy woman who seems all too eager to parade me in front of their vast selection of stemware. I don't want wine glasses. I don't even want to be here. I just need linens and chairs.
I smile and nod, and we finally make our way out to a sea of tablecloths covered in plastic. I start to get nauseous.
"I would like linen colored tablecloths, please."
She looks irritated but continues to grin while showing me a few choices.
"Okay. These are nice... but I'm looking for something more... linen. Like, in between ivory and beige?" If you show me one more damask print I'm going to gouge out my eyeballs and run blindly from this warehouse.
She starts to giggle. That is absurd. In the fourteen years she's worked here she has never had a request for such an odd colored tablecloth. It's so blah. Why not just go with white?
My eye starts to twitch.
She snatches the plans out of my hands and flips through the pages sighing. She disagrees. White is much more fitting. And why not a plastic chair? What is all this? What am I trying to achieve here? If it were her she would do this...
I graciously take my papers back and wonder why we didn't just elope. At this point I'm feeling personally insulted and want to pummel her for thinking the plans are anything less than genius. I'm tempted to lie and tell her Chelsea has arms the size Hulk Hogan and would totally kick her ass. Then I snicker at the thought of Chelsea putting this lady in a headlock with Hulk Hogan biceps and forget for a minute why I'm so annoyed.She runs us by napkins and aisles of metal chairs. She talks- a lot. Have I considered chargers? Damask? If I put down a deposit now I can get a great deal on delivery.
My brain is screaming. My friend eyes me suspiciously then leads us towards the door before I do something rash. Thanks, we'll be in touch. Not.
We drown my misery in margaritas then I go home and drunkenly call my mom and attempt to explain what garlands are.
I still need supplies but fear for my mental health if I return to another rental warehouse. Maybe next time I can go armed with a taser? That way I can zap anyone that tries to pawn a satin napkin or aisle runner off on me. Or I can just zap them for fun. Nothin' like a good old fashioned tase to bring back the wedding spirit.
In the famous words of East Side, f* this.
Image from here