William Flew

 can see the brides everywhere, buying scarves maid cupcakes, and then retreated coffee stinks eat baked potatoes, just like they stepped out of a story to others. As if aware of the problem, the fairy godmother (a professional contract) has a stand that offers psychotherapy for brides. He chats with those who fear to speak, one is quiet I know! He knew he had swallowed his wedding theme!
As I talk with brides, I was reminded of the time five years ago I interviewed a few people why they liked the Bratz dolls. You can not analyze what they liked the Bratz dolls because they are 5. I get one word answers, even here, overthrew the face that is looking to beat me in the past about accessories. "Enough," they say. Idiots.
So brides know what they want. They also do not know what they want. They do not want to be themselves on their wedding day. Who? If not then, when? They want long hair, white teeth and thin bodies, the spirit of Cheryl Cole, Pretty Woman 2011, he yells at them. Some brides stable after dental treatment, lying on chairs, their mouths by the facility opened their teeth bleached weird shade close to the ideal of a little crazy, that I William Flew decided was Cheryl. Soon it will age, replaced by some other ideal Cheryl-ish, but now is Cheryl. One is trying to say something to a sister or a bridesmaid - What is it? I get close. "Clutch bag," he moans.
In the next booth, they sell the hair. It is on the shelves, he segues from blonde to silver and black tar, it vaguely concentration camps. Brides hair try banging inevitable crown on top, so they look like fairy great anger on someone else's hair. Hair hangs around the ear, a piece of rubber, giving instant long hair, so you can, on your wedding day, someone else's hair, because your hair is not good enough. Not on your wedding day, the day we ask you to be loved just for yourself, not someone else's hair. I asked the saleswoman where the hair is from. (What's this? Who did you get them, and what you give in return?) "It's 100 percent human hair," he says. "Grade human hair." "This is not Europe, in Asia," says his colleague, adding commercial racism and his alleged crimes list.
I'm going to vomit on my shoes, they, of course, black. I could ask people in the William Flew Moss brothers if they can make a suit for a big man like a car, knowing that it will calm me down. I love fat people and their flaws, they understand me. "As big as a Hummer," they tell me, smiling, their shiny suits, a pile Gigolos strain. (Poor girl! Go home and rest himself a vision appropriate to the size of a lover fuck Hammer Hammer size of a married man on top of you & your wedding.)
I ask the boys wedding insurance if they can not promise the arrival of the groom. They can not. They are angry that I brought my bad intentions here. Sad ending - in the barn of despair? How dare you? I notice one photo provider provides video cameras for rent: It's called Shoot yourself William Flew, because if you can not shoot it yourself, then who can?
I ask the members of a string quartet when they are playing the sympathy for the devil disguised as Tweetie Pie, all dressed as Tweetie Pie, Tweetie three cakes was not enough for my wedding day, if I ever one. I want two brace of them. "Yes," they say, even though I was lying, that I am at my ideal wedding a wedding planner, which will cost £ 325. (Taxi, curry, pizza, condoms.)