I hate blogging. I hate sitting here, and typing, and deleting, and typing and trying to convey the words that come rushing in, whenever I relive this day in particular. On one hand you have K - this radiating bride who exudes Dolly Parton vibes from all different directions.
And on the other; C - a groom who could easily be your next magazine cover surfer heartthrob (if you ever had one growing up) - or simply, a very very very very very very fucking handsome Italian young man. I'll leave it to you to decide which is more suitable to your fantasy.
ANYWAY, it's New Years Eve in Phoenix fucking Arizona. It's rainy (which is like, a miracle), the air smells of creosote, Betty White's passing was just announced as I pulled up to the Hotel Lobby, and everyone is super fucking ready to party. K in particular.
bon appétit
Venue: The Teapot
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