It's Summer in Manhattan again and you know what that means-
Weddings that cost more that the GDP of a developing nation.
We the commoners of New York often get excited at the mere prospect of catching a glimpse of one of these ceremonial spectacles.
Why?
So we can dream of being like them?
Living the good life?
Despite their wealth, these Wall Street tycoons have their problems, too-
Like the women they're marrying.
They're opportunistic whores, mostly.

Like my cousin, Bethany.
She's about to marry a Jones Aquisitions executive, so my family says she's "made it," and that I should be "more like Bethany."
Excuse me?
I have a thriving, high-profile career in the media.
All that vapid bitch did was shake her ass in front of the right shallow banker.
Besides, a million-dollar wedding won't make that ingorant slut change her stripes.
$25,000 worth of lilac arrangements may look nice, but it won't erase the night she spent with all three Gambini brothers.
Sure, a $160,000 white wedding dress may technically fit Bethany's body, but that web video shows a couple of butch Jersey girls wearing her like a glove.
An ice sculpture that costs more than a new Mercedes doesn't change that summer she'd fuck anyone with cocaine, the summer she got herpes.
And a spread of the rooftop ceremony in Fifteen Minutes magazine won't undo sleeping with the entire football team, including my date, on prom night.
Will it?
Oh, by the way, congratulations Bethany!