Valentine’s Day.  It’s a day of romance and celebration of love. It’s a day of candy and flowers and romantic dinners. It’s a day for sappy endearments and mushy exclamations of adoration.

But this is NotAlwaysRight, so instead we’re going to look at another side of love:  Wedding Mayhem. Bridezillas. Groom-monsters. In-Laws that should be outlawed.  Maids of Horror and Worst Men.  Plus other participants in the event, willing or not.

Here are just the stories for you to make you think twice before walking down the aisle — or to bring up memories of your own.

Procrastination Cost You Your Marriage — What we have here is a failure to communicate.

Fall of Bridezilla — There are some lines that a bride — that anyone — should not cross.

The Bridal Shower Of Tears — So much for a family celebration.

Forget The Announcements, Here Comes The Pronouncements — The more you think about it, you wonder if she’s mean or right…

It’s A Warzone Up There — The wedding party has turned into a wedding riot.

Married To Herself — Maybe she was trying to start a family tradition of being self-absorbed.

She Is The Opinionator — The Maid of Honor is supposed to be helpful…

Pogo Bounce Out Of That Wedding — Even the band can get the worst of Bridezilla.

Bridezilla On Line 1 — What do you mean, you don’t have telepathy?

Mother Of Bridezilla — More like Momthra, wouldn’t you say?

Can’t Dress It Up As Anything But Bridezilla — “Your clothes. Give them to me.”

A Bridal Shower Of Criticism — The Momster Monster does not listen.

Stress About The Dress — We had to include this favorite, where a Bridezilla tries to ruin the day for another bride and gets her comeuppance.

Do you have any wedding disaster stories?  Was there madcap mayhem at your wedding, or in the planning of it?  Tell us all about it in the comments, or submit it here and we may publish it!

(I am new at an office that deals with contracts. I get my first notification of a customer that’s passed away, through an email from one of the heirs.)

Me: “[Coworker], it seems [Person on Contract] has passed away. Can I close the contract?”

Coworker: “Did they include a death certificate?”

Me: “No, but they did include some sort of prayer leaflet and the invitation for the cremation.”

Coworker: “No, that won’t do. We have to have a death certificate.”

Me: “Really? I mean, isn’t this proof enough?”

Coworker: “Nope, it’s not.”

Me: “Why would anyone try to fake a death?”

Coworker: “Ah, blissfully naive [My Name]. I was once like you… until the day someone came to the office and tried to close an account with fake prayers and fake mourning cards.”

Me: “No way! Someone did that?! How did you find out it was a fake?”

Coworker: “We didn’t, but City Hall did. They found out the person was still alive… when that person tried to claim the benefits for the heirs… themselves.”

(Turns out the lady in question wanted to emigrate and burn all bridges so she wouldn’t have to pay rent, etc. The heirs applied for special benefits to “fly the body to the country of birth,” which was granted. However, the “deceased” thought it was okay to claim this herself as travelling expenses and that no one would recognise her. My coworker was not informed of what happened to the lady, but I hope it involved a little room and a huge fine.)

(I’m manning the shop while my manager is out for lunch. A man comes in asking about hunting knives. We talk for a bit and I show him several of our blades. He noticeably keeps asking to see the biggest and sharpest ones we stock.)

Me: “Well, there’s this.” *takes out a 15-inch bowie-designed knife*

Customer: “Oh, yeah! Can I see that?”

(I hand the knife over, while going into the spiel about the grade of steel, techniques for sharpening it, and so on. The customer seems very pleased as he tests the weight and then smiles at me.)

Customer: “You know what’s funny? You were actually just stupid enough to hand this to a random guy, with no idea what he intends to use it for.”

(He suddenly thrusts the knife at me.)

Customer: “Now, how about you walk me over to your register and hand over every f****** cent before I see how far I can sink this into your heart, moron?!”

Me: “Sir, if I may just ask, you are aware we’re a sporting goods store?”

Customer: “Yeah, so? Cash now, a**hole!”

(He thrusts the knife at me again. I tactfully back away while glancing over to my left.)

Me: “Could you please just read what the sign there at the bottom of the stairs says, then?”

(The customer-turned-robber looks confused, then cautiously turns to the sign.)

Customer: “‘Guns located on second floor’? What the…”

(He turns back to see I’ve now drawn my sidearm — I keep it holstered in a manner that it’s not immediately visible from the front — and have it aimed at him.)

Me: “Before you comment on others’ intelligence, consider that you walked in here and somehow missing both that sign and the one outside stating we carry all manner of sporting goods, including firearms!”

(He dropped the knife and booked it out the door, leaving me to call the police and give them a full report. I can understand why he thought this would work, since the way the store is set up it’s not immediately evident we carry firearms, but at the same time, who honestly isn’t aware that guns are also classified as “sporting goods” in a state that permits open carry?)

While at work one day, the doorbell rang. Our receptionist was on maternity leave and our office is so small the company hadn’t bothered to find a replacement, so we all just kind of filled in.

One of my coworkers went to answer it. A minute later she came back with a look of confusion and concern on her face. She told the woman sitting next to me that the guy at the door wanted to see our copy machines, and she wasn’t sure if that was okay. Thanks to Not Always Right, I recognized the attempted scam and told her to send him away. She didn’t want to — she’s too nice — so I said I would.

I have to admit, this guy had his part down cold, the whole, “Aw, shucks. I’m no harm to anyone, just doin’ my job; help a fella out,” persona, and if I hadn’t already heard of the scam, I may have actually agreed. I told him firmly that there was nobody here authorized to let him in. He backpedaled, saying that he didn’t actually need to see the machines, he just needed to know what kind they were. I told him that we had nobody here authorized to give out that information. Then he asked if he could have the receptionist’s card. (So you can pretend to have spoken to her? Sure, buddy.) I told him the phone number for the head office was on our website, and that he could call them with any questions, and shut the door in his face.

So, thanks, Not Always Right!

(A scam artist calls my house. I answer.)

Scammer: “There is a problem with your computer.”

Me: “Which one?”

Scammer: “Actually, this is a routine check-up. I’m getting a notification that there is a problem with your computer.”

Me: “Which computer?”

Scammer: “Actually, it’s a problem with your Internet. Whenever you log in to the Internet or check your email, it downloads a virus.”

Me: “That’s horrible!”

Scammer: “This is what we need to do…”

(I cut him off, sounding horrified.)

Me: “I don’t even have an email!”

(He hung up. I wonder why.)