Fare thee well, yon cowabunga dudes! Hear that shit? It’s our Lord Of The Rings/Ninja Turtles themed wedding, so that’s how you should expect to be interacted with for the next ten hours! We’ve arranged your reception tables based on how well your rising astrological sign matches with others, and have placed an Elvish dictionary on each of your plates, which feature Leonardo and Donatello in chefs hats, declaring it “pizza time.”
Look, we know all of you want to roll your eyes, but this is our last stand. When you came to the Calzinger-Torrallu wedding, you knew what you were getting into. Our save the date had us in full Gandalf cosplay outfits, with a tag that said, “These two shall pass.” If both of us dressed as the same depressed wizard wasn’t enough to clue you in that this would be extra, the food options should have. What grown adults are going to have pizza, and only pizza, as an option? What grown adults are going to make you choose from fifty-two types of pizza?
We know this isn’t your thing, but it’s now or never. I’m balding faster than a speed-run of TMNT: Turtles In Time, and Sam’s eggs might as well be tossed into Mount Doom at this point, so please fucking bear with us. Go into the photo booth and take some pictures. Put a complimentary turtle bandana on, pick up some nunchucks, or sit in the makeup chair while one of the actual artists who worked on The Return Of The King (Sam’s surprise for me) makes you up to be “camera ready.” Dance to the April O’Neil Orchestra, which exclusively plays classical arrangements of the original 1990 Ninja Turtles motion picture soundtrack, as well as their classic rap song. Before you ask, yes, they make real American money doing this all the time for lots and lots of sad adults.
We want you to enjoy yourselves! As you don’t know, J.R.R. Tolkein was rumored to be an alcoholic, so tonight we’re proud to say that our reception is alcohol free! Instead, we’ve put together a menu of sober spirits that go with our wedding theme. Have a Master Splinter Spritzer, a One Ring (Non) Rum and Coke, or a Legolas Lagger. Heck, have ten! No matter how many you drink, nor how quickly, you can’t possibly get buzzed or drunk in any way!
We honestly can’t wait for you to see the wedding party, which will all come out dressed as foot soldiers from giant plastic Ents we’ve placed at all easily accessible escape routes. They’ll then perform the choreography from the battle in the Mines of Moria from “The Fellowship Of The Ring,” until fog fills the area, and it’s just Sam and I standing there as husband and wife. From there, each of you will pass around the varnished voice (a microphone we spray-painted gold) to declare your commitment to aid us on our quest to not get divorced too soon, even though most of you really don’t like Sam. I know she corrected everyone’s grammar on New Years, but I do that too. Yes, she wears Converse sneakers to her financial analysis job, glasses with a necklace attached to the ends, and a streak of blue in her hair, but please. Just, like, c’mon. For me.
If at any point you feel exhausted, feel free to leave. All you have to do is make it through the parking lot, which we’ve paid a literal truck-load of cash to have transformed into a recreation of the besieged city of Osgiliath from The Two Towers, complete with Nazgul, or ringwraiths as you basics probably call them. If a Nazgul captures you, you have to come back to the wedding. So if you want to leave, all you have to do is avoid dozens of tall hooded buff dudes that are great with a rope and may chase you on horseback as you bolt for your Honda Elantra. We’re all in the same shape we all were in college, right? None of us have bad knees, backs, or constantly google slipped disc and hernia symptoms in relation to conception issues, correct?
We really hope you enjoy the evening. Sam would tell you the same, but since she’s aware you’re here out of love for me, not a like of her, she’s decided to keep her distance. If you do want to see her, she’s in her dressing room, trying on the one-hundred percent leather Arwin suit she’ll be marrying me in. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go shit for a few hours so I can fit into the forty pound Donatello suit that will serve as my tuxedo. Leave it to Etsy to sell a fabricated XL turtle suit with shell that’s just slightly too small.