macyscockblock.jpgDear Macy’s and Conglomerate Fuckmonkey, You know, despite my best intentions, I found myself charmed by your cheesetastic ad campaigns. Martha Stewart kickin’ it with Usher?! What will they think of next! Seriously, playing on a lady’s closet Martha-love is a damn smart merch-moving strategy. Well played, Macy’s, well played. Which is why, now that I’m getting married, I thought registering with you would be a good idea. I thought, “I can indulge my tasteful, New England-ish, happy, perfect home fantasies on other people’s dimes! Look at all those gorgeous, white porcelain Martha Stewart cake stands! Neither of us eat cake, and yet I can own one of these beauties of my very OWN! Fucking espresso maker! I’ve always wanted a fucking espresso maker, and I can just click it, and it will magically appear at my door in three months!” I was giddy and indulgent. Images of all of the useless luxury consumer goods I could amass began dancing in my head, Macy’s, you devil. But then what happened, Macy’s huh? What happened? I signed my life away, I gave you all of my info, all my fiance’s info. I trusted you, and you betrayed my trust. Just as I was careening down the path of excess, registering for an insanely-priced china pattern I never knew I wanted, you cockblocked me. You took my Martha-loving, china-coveting bridal boner and snapped it in half with your pushy, elitist hands.

We are currently unable to add the item(s) you selected to your registry. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please try adding these items at a later time. “

This was the cold dismissal I got whenever I tried to register for anything on your website. “Why?! Why?!” I freaked out for a solid 20 minutes. “Is there something wrong with my computer? Is my wedding date not good enough for you? What’s going on?” It wasn’t until I clicked on the registry FAQ that I could truly know the meaning of your passive-agressive actions:

“I have registered online, do I really need to meet with a Bridal Consultant? Our consultants can help you select the items that fit your personal style and also advise you on the number of gifts and the price ranges that you should include on your registry based on the number of guests you invite and your personal needs. We recommend that you make an appointment to meet with our bridal consultants in-store to ensure that you create a complete registry.”

Oh uh-unh bitch! I. Don’t. Think. So. Why the fuck didn’t you just come out and say, “Hey, you! YOU! With the computer! Your poor, working class ass cannot add to your registry until you come into one of our stores and let our manicured, retail wageslaves look down at your tatty, Urban Outfitters clothes and condescend about your families’ ability to provide you with Kate Spade homegoods.” Honesty is the cornerstone of any relationship, and you my friend, are a slippery dick.
Not to mention: This is the internet generation, ho’s. Everything I do, every move I make, is done on the computer. When the fuck am I gonna have time to trot my ass out to Macy’s so some high school grad in a cheap Newport News pantsuit can tell me what the fuck I need in my own damn kitchen? My fiance works 6 days a week, I work 6 days a week. Are your fancyass, Emily Post wannabe consultants gonna show up on a Sunday to let me ransack your store with a scan gun? Didn’t think so. I’m not gonna take off work just so that Kathy Ireland for J.C. Penney can tell me I need to make my family pay for a bone china service for 12, when I have crippling social anxiety and scarcley know 12 people. Fuck that. And fuck you, Macy’
I’m taking my business to any fucking company that will let me register solely online. Oh, and I’m gonna talk shit about you on the internet. It’s nothing personal, just the business that is righteous, bridezilla rage.
Please share wedding registry shitstorms in the comments. I want to know I’m not alone in my bridal-consumer blueballs.