[...] the marriage - a cross between a dense, dark-green bush or shrub and a thundercloud-shaped cancer, with the adhesive qualities of tile cement and a number of tentacles, like a ball of leeches. [...] It had a certain oversized and phosphorescent splendour about it, like a whale decaying on a beach.
- Margaret Atwood in Moral Disorder
Alright this was totally taken out of a context to reflect my own point... which isn't really my point anymore. Sure, marriage is still pretty pointless and everything, but I'm not looking at it with such level of bitterness... I just liked how it describes some of the more thorny and melodramatic relationships, it sounds like a holy mess.
Anyhow, I'm attending a wedding today, I'll have to keep my cynicism and sarcasm on level 1 or 2, which means it's going to be a loooong day, but the open bar will surely help.
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