Sweet. It's the wedding day, and I couldn't be happier, because I'm now only about five minutes away from never having to look at Malia Rivera's stupid face ever again. As a TWoP employee, I'm required to wash my hands before returning to work, and that's just what I'm going to do.
Narbo has risen. Well, she's awake at least, and lying on the couch, nursing a hangover. I hope it hurts. "I think I could puke if I tried." That's nice. She doesn't think she's going to fit into her dress after having ten Cosmopolitans at a thousand calories each last night. Hmm, yeah, that's not totally accurate. It's about the same as having ten beers. I'm sure she got fucked up, because she's half my size and I can't really put away ten beers without it making a bit of a dent in my sobriety. But I think her caloric concerns are a little exaggerated.
Meaghan, the hair-stylist, arrives, and Narbo instantly perks up. Her day has begun. The dress arrives and she puts it on, still worried that it won't fit. "Even if I only put on two pounds, that a lot for someone who's only 110 pounds." Pardon? "Well, maybe not exactly 110 pounds." Yeah, didn't think so. She starts sucking on a Bloody Mary during her makeup session, and she interviews that she's already feeling "tipsy." Hey, start the day right, I always say. I have to say, that Bloody looks pretty damn tasty. I can see the horseradish chunks, always a good sign. Narb says that she's so excited that she could piss her pants, and her mom offers to lend her one of her Depends, which is kind of funny.
"Wattles Mansion is one of Hollywood's most prestigious locations." Really, Mindy? Then why is it pretty much the only one that would let your shitty show film there? No matter, because Narbo is already getting on her wedding coordinator's case about the velvet rope and how she wanted it to be red, not black. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Enough! Next, she tells the valet guys to look "military-style! This is Hollywood!" Inside, she starts getting all fakely hyperventilate-y, and wants a "hankie" for her "bling." Dammit! I thought we were past that.
"What this Bridezilla wants, this Bridezilla gets." Thanks for that, Mindy. You're not really helping here. The wedding is finally underway, and Narbo's dad (who could really use a "celebrity" toupee-crafter) walks her down the aisle. The pastor works in the whole "celebrity" theme into his opening speech. Man oh man. The pastor speaks in generalities. The couple exchanges rings, and Narbo makes fun of Rich for having fat fingers. They kiss. They are now Mr. and Mr. Richard Rodriguez ["or, as they were called at my house, 'Mr. and Mrs. Dick Rod'" -- Sars], and I feel nothing but sorry for Rich. The DJ's power has gotten shut off for some reason, and they have no music to walk back to, and that makes me happy.