40s chick has been a bit AWOL. It started with a diversion to writing for a fun blog that necessitated seriously weekly scrutiny of The Bachelor ,
a little dating advice for the guys on the Big Bang Theory
and a jaunt back into the 80s and 90s episodes of Neighbours. This then overlapped with some well-earned downtime in a remote part of Western Australia where it was too ridiculously beautiful to sully beach time with the presence of technology.
However, I’m back on a plane to Melbourne and feeling like I need to give the 40s chick blog a little lovin.
What I didn’t fail to miss during my time beachside, was the fact that, despite their protestations that they wouldn’t wed until there was marriage equality for everyone, Brangelina bought into the urgings of the marital mafia and tied the knot.
Given I felt the need to keep sand out of my iPad, I know nothing of how this shindig went down. I only saw the news through that flickery ticker tape thingy on the bottom of the screen while I aimed to wrestle away the pool comp title at the local pub.
I’m sure the interwebs and some lucky publication with the exclusive have the deets, but in the absence of all that, here’s what I think NEVER happened at the Brangelina wedding.
Shiloh went frou-frou
From birth, Shiloh has demonstrated an anaphylactic-style aversion to girl clothes. Early on, she became the natural antidote to Suri Cruise and just kicked some androgynist stylin’ butt.
If it did, I’m thinking she kicked down some doors till she found the waiter’s ante-room, funded a superannuation fund for some poor local with this week’s pocket money in exchange for his uniform, and then happily attended the rest of the celebrations in trousers, albeit a little generous for her tiny frame.
There were Team Jen protesters
Jen’s supporters are still hurting from the way Angelina ALLEGEDLY/TOTALLY snared the married Brad during the filming of Mr and Mrs Smith.
No one wanted the golden couple torn asunder by the predatory Angelina – it spawned a Shenzen-province production line of Team Jen T-shirts and a Twitter hashtag before really understood what a Twitter hashtag actually was.
Just as the sad SaveAlbertPark clan are still attaching yellow ribbons to oak trees to protest the Melbourne Grand Prix some eighteen years after the Grand Prix took up residence around the track, there are no doubt similarly resolute Team Jen die-hards waving their T-shirts aloft.
I suspect they are still drinking NY coffee over old eps of Friends rather than picketing Chateau Miraval, but I’d like to think they are still there staging a teeny but heartfelt protest nonetheless.
Ange and Brad’s outfit
Designers would be slitting the throats of their first born children to be dressing the couple for their matrimonials. However I’d like to think of Brad and Ange defying tradition by rocking a little double denim a’la Brit and JT
Or Ange shucking skinny shoulders into a Diana-style gigantic sleeve.
Given Brangie’s indifference to the Moses commandments, eg coveting those married elsewhere, I suspect that they may have engaged the services of someone less religious, but rocking the following elements in their CV:
- Served as s spiritual doula, presiding over serene home-births, creating the most zen imprint on the birth of blessed children
- Apprenticed dutifully to the Dalai Lama, emerging as an enlightened prophet
- Meditated in a cave in Bhutan for a year
- Curated Gwyneth Paltrow’s green smoothie recipe collection on goop.com
No. I want the guru of the Brangelina nuptials to have been a chain-smoking, Wild Turkey-swilling Elvis impersonator, a little on the fuller side and likely to bust out of the white suit at any given moment.
How YOU doin’?
I’m pretty sure that the Brangelina celebrant, Elvis-impersonator or not, would have acknowledged the journey that brought these two together, including:
- The W magazine spread (so soon after the Aniston split that it made us all a little queasy)
- The Rainbow Jolie-Pitt children
- Childbirth in Africa – only a Hollywood actress would figure that for a safe concept
Instead, I’d like to think they ritually emptied Billy Bob Thornton’s blood from that vial that Angelina used to tote around and re-used it as receptacle to throw down some quality Tequila shots.
I don’t know, you tell me, what did you expect from Brangelina?