Great, so despite invitations to my get-togethers, I'm not invited to any of your soirees, and now your wedding. I did, however, receive your social-media "invitation" to donate "clean and new-looking" pitchforks, scarecrows, and other country-fried shtick for your barn-themed reception in your tony Eastside 'burb. The reception to which I'm not invited.
Why don't I just go Fried Green Acres on your bridezilla ass and crash your sucktastic ceremony? I'll show up driving a John Deere with a loud exhaust right as you are exchanging your vows. Following a puff on a meth pipe, I'll hump my toothless cousin as your horrified clan looks on. Yeah, I've got your cunt-ry right here, ya choad.
No, I won't really do all that: Barn-themed receptions are so 2008, and I just can't be bothered to do more than block your shitastic ass.