Royal flush

I've ate enough wedding cake over the past four weeks my ear wax is leaking fondant frosting and strawberry filling.

Don't get me wrong, the buffet king of Royal Carribbean Cruise lines - me - will eat a tasty wedding cake until the wait staff starts prying the cheap China dishes out of my food coma clutch. I couldn't tell ya if I were eating chocolate, vanilla, coconut, or barbecue brisket flavored cakes during our stretch of three-weddings-in-four-weeks extravanganza, but I can say they were all decorated the same: A little man and woman up on top, boinking away in a position I've never seen in any Kama Sutra video. OK, that may have just been my own vivid imagination, but I'll tell ya what, if I marketed and sold such cake toppers I'd be the richest SOB this side of the Atlantic and could afford an assistant to wash my nuts on a daily basis.

This wedding crap is big business, too. DJs, photogs, caterers, halls, coordinators, preachers, florists, midgets to carry the bride's train, all that shit sucks cash from your wallet like a $10 Jamaican hooker. And I'm a dude, there's probably things in that list I forgot. I'm pretty sure Wife's old man had to shell out a few clams to those ducks who flapped through a half dozen pictures five long years ago. And those quackers were lucky, my best man is from Montana and doesn't travel without some sort of firearm. Hell, he arms himself on five-minute trips to the grocery store for milk (wait, it's Montana, they may not have store's up there - trading posts sure, but not store - so, they likely have to milk a cow for the milk). I'm sure he was lickin' his chops, thinkin' the family was going to eat well during their 20-hour trek back up to Butte after Wife and I hitched our wagons together.

Knowing how much dough is involved with these shindigs, when I spotted some similarities between our wedding and any of the three we attended recently, I figured we'd rake in some royalties from these idea thieves. If I knew our wedding was going to be recycled by friends and relatives I would have designed a menu with values next to the touches:

$5 per guest signature - Two had picture frames with a photo of the lovely couple (I'm sure it was before they said "I do" because they were still smiling with happiness in their eyes. I didn't have the heart to tell either couple that wanes day, nay, minutes after the party's over The couple looks into each others' eyes and both mutter "oh crap"). Around the photo is plenty of white space for guests to express their best wishes (or in our case getting messages like, "You'll be lucky to make it through Wednesday," or "If you don't make it, can we have our fondu set back?").

$25 per special song used, i.e. First Dance, Father/Daughter Dance, Mother/Son Dance, Groom/Porn Star Dance - Wife's high school pal ripped off Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight," straight from our wedding. Wife will say that it was a band and not a DJ-spun record and that should knock off a few bucks, but you know what they say, "Give a bride a song and she'll put your table next to a speaker the size of a Super Wal-Mart." Twenty-five bones is fair since there's a million songs out there - who wouldn't want their First Dance to be to "All out of Love"? - and if we crashed weddings to see what songs they used, we could retire on our own island where servants in cocunut shell bikini tops and cabana boy with palm frond fans wait upon our every need (and believe us, we're a needy pair).

$3 for that "Love is" verse in the New Testament - We ain't religious folks (I'm pretty sure the Lord, Al Pacino, is TiVoing our every move and weighing our actions against his naughty and nice checklist - that's right him and the fat man in the red suit use the same list, it's more efficient that way) but if I can score some dinero in the name of the Lord, well, hell, sign me up. I'm not giving away freebies here, credit should paid where credit is due. So what if it was heard before at another wedding (or if we stole from a wedding before), that's not my problem, it's the other's couple problem since they weren't bright enough to think of it first.

That's right folks, the gravy train is leaving the station so jump on board. This royalty plan will fly and take Wife and I to great financial heights. We'll be bigger than the Gates, the Trumps, the Clampetts put together. Nut scrubbers and boob spongers for everyone.