Press "Enter" to skip to content

We Reviewed Our Sister’s Wedding Playlist and Now Our Mom Is Asking Us To Apologize

It’s not every day that you get to see your little sister’s fifth wedding. The sight of her rounding the corner and walking down the aisle is a moment that will stick with you for the rest of your life. And as her older brother, it is my ultimate responsibility to make sure everything is 100% perfect. Having said that, I regret to announce that my sister’s wedding playlist is complete dogshit.

It began with way too much Ed Sheeran. I thought we were listening to a 17-minute song by that British freak, but it turns out it was 6 different songs! Listen, I’m not one of those loser music snobs that hates pop music, I’m just one of those cool guys that insults pop music every chance I get.

I understand everyone has different music tastes. I thought for sure Every Thug Needs a Lady by Alkaline Trio would be played but nope. Hell, I even offered to go get my acoustic guitar and play it live but apparently, my dad would take me out of his will or whatever. I guess all those years of forcing my sister to listen to the Psychobilly station on Pandora never taught her anything about what true love is.

After the Ed Sheeran section finished, some other mediocre White singer-songwriter started crooning about some “feeling your heartbeat” shit. I took matters into my own hands and I found the guy in control of the playlist and had to bribe the asshole to play something punk. Then he had the fucking gall to look me in the eyes and queue up a Coldplay song like that’s what I wanted! To make it worse, it wasn’t even Parachutes Coldplay, it was that god-awful Ghost Stories shit.

And now, our mother is forcing me to apologize for complaining. I’m sorry, but when did she become the moral authority on music criticism? This is the same woman who thinks The Beatles are better than the Rolling Stones, her opinion belongs in the trash next to all the fondant flowers from the cake.

You know, come to think of it, that wedding fucking sucked. Music was garbage, no pins and patches policy on suits, I even had to go out and buy a dress shirt because I wasn’t allowed to wear my badass Jeff Rosenstock tank top.

Fuck it, I think I’m gonna go get married out of spite. I’ll even get the band back together so me and the boys can finally play in front of an audience that’s obligated to stay for the majority of the set.