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.
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."
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.
Oh, by the way, congratulations Bethany!