Which came first?

As I sit here at my computer in my underthings, finished with another long day of saving lives, waiting for my latest seancody.com clip to download before I attempt to make linguine with clam sauce, it occurs to me:

do wedding plans make people crazy, or do crazy people make wedding plans?

That poor Jennifer Wilbanks has now entered a "facility" for "treatment" of an undisclosed "nature." OK so she has a history of petty larceny, clearly has some impulse control issues and, given her skeletal features and geographic locale, it wouldn't floor anyone to discover that she had an image disorder or three.

But let's face facts, folks: Jenny went crazy because Jenny had a wedding guest list of 600 people.

Clearly, the paper-thin nerves connecting her sanity to the rest of her brain melted out of her nostrils some night last February as she tossed and turned in bed after five too many Xanax-n-Ambien cocktails, having once again stayed up past 3am trying to rectify her seating charts with her pew bows with her pink pastel Jordan almond take-homes.



Is this what becomes of some of us? When starry-eyed Jennifer shot the moon and invited the entire tri-town population to her nuptials, did she seal her fate as future slouch-backed, vacant-faced chin-drooler at the Duluth Home for the Matrimonially Insane?

I think I may be in a common slump faced by us brides-to-be. It's really too early to plan too too much, but then again if the wedding might be in 12 months, it's too late to not at least have started thinking about it, because really, didn't so-and-so book her reception 2 years in advance, and what if all the best places get taken, and which weekend in May has the least historical precipitation, and if I'm going to hand-print the invitations then that's two months right there, add another month for the calligraphy class, not to mention finding the right band and the right hotels and and the right tulle baggies for the pink pastel Jordans and JESUS CHRIST THERE'S NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE DAY IT JUST MAKES ME FEEL LIKE POPPING A COUPLE PROZAC AND CUTTING MY HAIR AND HOPPING ON THE NEXT CHINATOWN BUS TO VEGAS..........!

So before we start judging Jennifer, or pitying her, or thanking God we didn't (almost) marry her, we would all do well to take a good, hard look in the mirror and remember, there's a crazy little Jennifer in each and every one of us.

Or, for the unfortunate other fifty percent, a crazy little Jennifer laying beside us in bed every night, staring at the ceiling, quietly fretting about just where he's going to find enough chairs, bows and pastel nuts for 600 godforsaken wedding guests.