Welcome to My Big Redneck Wedding. Kyle likes to blow stuff up and Geneva is into camouflage.
We open up with Kyle (18) blowing up a pumpkin and then laughing that high pitched, inbred, special crazy, turkey gobble kind of laugh that scares the bejeebers out of me. My husband and his brother, like most men get excited by the merest hint of explosives. That is not a redneck trait in and of itself. What makes this a truly redneck moment is that Kyle lights the m-80 fuse with his cigarette, and then that scary intense, on edge, anticipatory I know it’s gonna happen soon smile that alters Kyle’s otherwise expressionless face. Like maybe he enjoys his m-80s a little too much. Like maybe he’d seriously consider putting a firecracker in the dog’s butt and then dismiss it not because it’s wrong, but because the dog would probably outrun him.
We find out that they’ve been dating for two years but have known each other since pre-school. He proposed on Christmas Eve, but unless he peed it in the snow, I’m not interested. They’re getting married because where they’re from (Copper Hill, Tennessee), according to Geneva, “You have to get married before you kiss or anything.” So I guess they’re getting married so they can kiss, which is as good a reason as any I guess. Plus it’ll make all the sex they’re already having that much more intimate.
We go with Geneva and Smokin’ Kyle to the “golf course” where they’re checking out stuff for the wedding. Geneva points out a picnic table and identifies it as the perfect spot to get married and Smokin’ Kyle makes a joke about watching out for flying objects. Because they’re on a golf course. Gobblegobblegobble. Geneva outlines her plan for a tractor to drive her up and for her dad to walk her down the aisle. We then go to the “club house” and Geneva is going to decorate with quilts. Quilts will cover the golf paraphernalia, the nasty looking air conditioner, and some big white board. Kyle, doing his part, offers to bring the mounted deer head from his home. “Aw’right,” Geneva agrees, and before I continue, I have to tell you that while Kyle’s expression never changes, neither does Geneva’s voice and I find that more irritating. Inflect a little, ‘Neva!
Geneva and her bridesmaids pull up in front of the local hot spot Wal*fart, park in the middle of two parking spaces, and Geneva monotones, “Aw’right, let’s go look for some wedding stuff.” Wedding stuff in this instance would be the girls’ outfits. We head straight to the hunting department. I am not liking where this is going one little bit. Not one little bit I tell you! “Awww,” one maid says as they face a wall of camo-gear. “That’s cuuuute!” The other gum mawing one agrees and fingers a camo-hem as she says, “That’s really pretty!” Camo, they agree, is classic. Classic IF YOU’RE HUNTING DEER or PROTECTING OUR COUNTRY, otherwise I don’t think Tim Gunn would agree.
Geneva heads back to the homestead to break it to her parents that all the attendants are deer hunters and doing a tour in ‘Nam. “What does Kyle think?” Geneva’s mother Theresa asks and then she nods when Geneva assures her that Kyle likes it. Theresa allows a second of a “he would” expression to cross her otherwise composed face, and I’m pretty sure Theresa wanted a whole lot better for her daughter than a Kyle. William, Geneva’s dad, pretty much says it’s her wedding and she can do what she wants, which, yeah, it is, and yeah, she can, but d-yamn. “Where’s it gonna be?” Theresa asks and then gives a defeated nod when Geneva confirms that it’ll be at the “golf course.” Geneva shatters her mother’s dreams even more by also announcing that the wedding feast will consist of cornbread, pinto beans, and “pickled everything.”
We join Smokin’ Kyle and his bff Justin in the process of making the grooms-cake. Kyle wants it to be big and “man-sized” to offset the tiny girliness of Geneva’s wedding cake. It’s going to be chocolate and four feet tall. “How big’s your oven?” Justin asks. “We’ll have to cook it in segments,” Kyle figures after a long pause. We watch and gag as Smokin’ Kyle smokes and adds things like candy corn and chips to his cake mix. We gag some more as squirts whipped cream topping between the layers in an attempt to get the layers to stick together. His hands are ALL OVER this cake and seriously? Ew. Smokin’ Kyle’s four foot tall cake won’t stay erect (a sign of things to come if he doesn’t lay off the cigs) and he pushes it back in place. “This is the cake that you’re going to serve at the wedding?” Justin asks, a little repulsed. Kyle admits defeat and the two of them haul the cake out to the backyard and proceed to shoot it. They high-five and decide to buy their grooms-cake at the Wal*fart.
Kyle and his buddies drive to fast on a country road and talk about Geneva’s bridal shower – a subtle transition, no, as we are introduced to what I have dubbed The Bridal Shower. Geneva and her friends are having a boudoir party courtesy of Monique’s Boudoir Parties (pronounced Mon-eek’s boo-dwar), and their job is “to bring romance back into the bedroom.” I’m not sure what Mon-eek has against romance happening in the kitchen, but as pre-marital kissing is against the rules in Copper Hill I can’t be too quick to judge. Mon-eek shills her Coochie Shave Cream and everyone looks embarrassed but also a little bit interested when she assures them that the men who use it have the softest faces in town. “Depends on where the face goes,” one woman says while her 40 year old virgin daughter giggles beside her.
Smokin’ Kyle’s bachelor party is not such a laid back event. “The key to the bottle rocket war,” Smokin’ Kyle informs us as he sifts through a truck bed full of bottle rockets and various other explosives, “is the element of surprise.” True dat. One can never be too shifty or too careless when launching explosives at unsuspecting party guests. The boyz light the bonfire and commence to turkey laughing and attempting to set each other on fire. Let’s check in on Geneva and the girls, shall we?
“The nipple clamps,” Mon-eek schools us, “are designed to fit on the nipple area.” Well then.
Smokin’ Kyle Sharpies the word boob on some passed out fool’s forehead. That fool being Justin the cake baker. He wakes up and is told he’s been “boobed.” “Booobed?” Justin drawls. “Whut’s boooobed?” He looks in the mirror and I half expect him to say, “dood? I thought y’all said I was boobed.” He doesn’t.
We join Smokin’ Kyle the next day or so on his quest for the perfect wedding present. Turns out the perfect wedding present is a pink .22 rifle perfect for shootin’ squirrel. “If you got her sumpin’ like that it’d be a very happy honeymoon,” the shop owner reassures Smokin’ Kyle. “She’d be well-pleased with you.” It’s no snowman from The Claw, but I guess it’ll do. Especially once Kyle gets her well-pissed.
The day before the wedding we join the happy couple and their friends as they remove a truck bed load of mounted mountain animals from Smokin’ Kyle’s parents’ home and load up on quilts and head out to the “golf course” to “decorate” the “club house.” That job finished we’re magically transported back to Geneva’s home where she’s in green curlers and she and Smokin’ Kyle are cutely making sure the other’s gonna show up to the wedding. Then they french kiss (illegally)and my stomach rolls a little because really? Are you supposed to wiggle your tongue that much? Am I supposed to be able to hear it? I don’t think I’m allowed to watch that.
Kyle leaves his blushing bride to be and Geneva dons a blond Orphan Annie wig and does a cheer. “Raddy?” she asks. “O-K! I’m getting m-a-r-r-i/e/d!” Then she does some jump/split thing and is way too excited to sleep. I hear you Geneva. The night before my wedding I slept for shite. I was excited and nervous and my mom made me come to their house to sleep so she could fix me a nice wedding day breakfast which turned out to be microwaved generic Jimmy Dean type sausage biscuits because they were running late for my brother’s track meet. But I’m not bitter.
The big day is upon us and we start it with Geneva’s search for the curling iron. “I hope the guys remember the orange hats,” someone laments. Meanwhile Smokin’ Kyle and friends smoke outside the “clubhouse.” Geneva gets made up complete down to her camo-toes (which is not to be confused with camel-toe) while Kyle and the others decorate the wedding area with hay bales (what is is with you rednecks and hay?!). Geneva and her deer hunting attendants arrive and Geneva is resplendent in her kelly green bridal gown and wavy hair. They spy Smokin’ Kyle (because of the bright orange hats that they obviously didn’t forget and his laugh) and hide behind a pick up, but I’m not sure why since they totally blend in with the background. No way would he have been able to pick them out from their surroundings. No. Way.
Finally the moment has arrived. Someone plugs a boombox into the truck’s stereo and some pretty guitar music is piped through the air while Geneva and her dad take the tractor and begin their walk down the aisle and Kyle stands nervously at the altar. What I like best about this show is that while it makes it easy for us to poke fun at the unusual wedding choices people make, it always lets the intrinsic beauty of a wedding based on love shine through. Yeah, there might be an over-abundance of camouflage, but Kyle and Geneva are in love and so very eager to start their life together. They are surrounded by family and friends, and really, isn’t that what it’s all about? Saying to those who matter to you most that this is the person I have chosen to accompany me through life? Kyle and Geneva are announced as husband and wife and can finally, legally, in the city of Copper Hill, kiss.
We’re invited to the reception – a cunning little affair where people dine on southern comfort food. I am not judging because I love southern comfort food. Which is why I am currently working on Project Fat Ass. They totally lose me however with the big jar of pickled pigs feet and bowl of pork rinds. Gag. “Whut is that?” someone asks and is totally turned off by the answer. “Deer meat.” Hey. I like venison. My dad would go hunting and bring back one almost every year. It’s gamey but ooooh so good smothered in brown gravy. Or maybe I just like brown gravy so much that I will pretty much eat anything it covers. Again, refer to my Project Fat Ass blog on the side of the page. Kyle does his hosting duty and makes the rounds to ensure that everyone’s having a good time. “So you like the food?” he asks an unfortunate couple sitting in rockers on the porch of the “clubhouse.” “It’s beans and cornbread. That’s good,” they assure him. He then finds it necessary to tell them and us that his beans are kicking in. Poor Geneva. I hope she’s loaded for bear, and by that I mean I hope she ate enough beans to return fire.
Geneva and her mother share a sweet moment over the punch bowl and then Kyle and Geneva are off to the quiet of the perfect picnic table to give each other their first gifts as newly weds. Geneva is first and she presents Smokin’ Kyle with… a skink.
Kyle shyly and proudly presents her with the pink .22 rifle and the promise to take her hunting for small game. She loves it and they kiss (legally) and these two wacky kids set out toward their honeymoon destination of Pigeon Forge. I hope the show sprang for tickets to Dolly World.