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CHRIS FOWLER, WEDDING PLANNER

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Women love weddings. So do we, since the bars usually open, you get an excuse to cry manfully, and relatives who previously did not appear in public without a heavily starched shirt and tie end up doing the robot with tumblers of scotch in each hand. But we're not so enamoured with the event that we would read wedding porn, the exhaustive accounts in bridal mags meticulously recounting each minute decision and logistical arrangement involved in the construction of the wedding. It would be like...well, a woman who DIDN'T like football reading the play-by-play chart of the 1997 Sugar Bowl, which ranks right up there with "The Fortunate Traveller" by Derek Wolcott and "Mind Playin' Tricks On Me" for sheer poetry in our pantheon.


Catullus. Byron. Eliot. Bushwick Bill.

Fortunately, reader Trent somehow got in contact with a notable piece of wedding porn: Chris Fowler's, the host of College Game Day, consummate on-camera and alleged curmudgeon off it. Reading through the highlights only confirms what we suspected: that most men could, in the moment of marriage, have workmen carry a very large portrait between them and the bride and exit, leaving an approximate but not exact body double in their place without incident. In fact, it would take a day for the bride to notice in most cases, we think. Excerpts to prevent you from experiencing the tedium of the whole thing:

--Reading the segment on the ring purchase will kill the average person with boredom. This is something you must not forget: the very reading of the words may leave you lifeless on the floor of your office. If you feel lightheaded, woozy, and experience a sharp pain in your temple after reading this:

"I had bought diamonds for Jennifer before from one particular dealer in the diamond district, so I had built up a trust with him before I made this bigger purchase. He told me to go to Tiffany’s and look at rings to get an idea of what she would like.

"You don’t want anything to spoil the pleasure and the warm feeling of buying a ring," Chris continues. "So if you can trust the business side by having dealt with a jeweler beforehand, it frees you to pick out something she would love. Otherwise, you might feel you’re being taken.

Then stop immediately and back away from the computer, because you are in mortal danger.

--Fowler on their location:

"It looks like a French chateau," adds Chris. "It’s classic and timeless. You feel transported to another time and place."

Take out the chateau bit, and we'd bet a hundred dollars this is exactly how you could describe Beano Cook's colon, too.


Timeless.

--Fowler as blue-state, wine-quaffing bobo:

"For example, we didn’t want carving stations," says Chris. "But a lot of people love them, so we had them set up for the cocktail hour. People were wondering if there was a sit-down dinner at all because we had so much pre-dinner food."

What's wrong with a carving station, dammit? A wedding needs dry, overcooked beef served by a surly man with a knife. Actually, most events are better with surly guys with knives. Ah, but people like carving stations. Those filthy, filthy people.

--Fowler as wacky hipster:

"For one of the toasts we used the lyrics from a Metallica song," says Chris, "and I asked one of my friends to read them. That was an inside joke.

"The toast began, ‘According to the great American poet James Hetfield,’ who is the lead singer of Metallica, and several people burst out laughing. Everyone was looking around, as if to say, ‘I don’t know that poet. Should I?’

Wocka wocka!

There's more, if you're a glutton for punishment.