DIY = do it yo'self muthafucka

through every.single.step of this totally ghetto do-it-yourself wedding ive been asking you

so, what do you think?

you would have been as proud as daniel, sitting with us, as we cut and printed and knotted and glued each component of those invites. you would have mcgyver'd some shit just like we did when the envelopes were too fat to close.

i mean, who does their rsvps on postcards or online for gods sake?

umm. me.

you would have said, fuck it Zaida. that shit looks nice. it doesnt matter what they think, as long as you like it.

and i would have said, are you sure??

because you were my sounding board for everything.
you gave me the confidence i was lacking.
you co-signed my shit when it was good.
and told me it fucking sucked when it was bad.

i miss you more than ever, because you are supposed to be a part of this.

you are supposed to be my Man of Honor. you were supposed to be breaking night with us while we glued and cut and printed and playing music while we played with tulle and telling me that none of the puerto ricans are going to like the menu, it's too "fancy", and we should buy some arroz con gandules from the dominicans to save time and just say my aunt made them, and that all those white people wouldnt know the difference anyway.

and i would have told you that we cant cater anything in because its a restaurant and they wont allow it.

and you would have said, what are they going to do? make you throw it away? sneak that shit in, zaida. dont be such a pussy.

i love you, bebe. i love you more that i ever told you but i think you knew.

and if you didnt you def know now.

biatch.

xxzaidaxx