the way the cookie crumbles

Remember how the wrong flowers accidentally got ordered on my wedding day?

I love that bouquet. 

Remember how my hair accidentally got dyed red the day before my bridals?
I don't love that color, but it's okay. It's kind of hilarious.

Remember how I got a screamin' deal on our photographer for the wedding day because I used an understudy? (I figured he'd have the same equipment as the big wig so it couldn't be thaaaat bad.)

It wasn't that bad. That is, the quality of our photos.

I didn't consider the fact that he'd ask us to take dipping photos and forget to tell my husband to point his rear end the other way. 

So, we've got about ten shots of husband's lovely behind and my skeletor hand clinging onto his shoulder for dear life. (We also got a few from a different angle that could land my ladies a job at victoria's secret.)

Meh, whatevs. It's the way the cookie crumbles.
And for the record, I like cookies. Especially ones that show my husband's butt.