Fug Getting Married

So, it’s not inaccurate to say that this is A LOT of dress:

I mean, a LOT OF DRESS:

NO. SERIOUSLY. A LOT:

I’ve got no beef with Major Evening Wear. Hell, if you can’t wear a giant dingey wedding-cake of a frock during a European film festival when you’re probably doing a lot of thinking along the lines of, “I wonder what that jackhole ex of mine is up to. I CAN’T BELIEVE I WASTED THAT MUCH TIME ON THAT GUY. What if I never get married? WHAT IF I END UP ALONE FOREVER? Well, it’d be better than being married to a FELON. GOD. I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe I got sucked into WHAT WAS LITERALLY A FEDERAL CASE. I AM going to be single forever. And LIKE it. Because that way the only time my diaries get suboenaed by the Feds is when I KILL HIM and carry the body over state lines,” when CAN you wear one?

Other than to the Oscars, of course.