Want to crash a wedding?

I want a Discovery Channel wedding.

One where I cut a female out of a herd grazing peacefully near a lake or a fountain at a mall – whatever’s convenient.

Mate with her in a most unsavory, animalistic way – think giraffes or ostriches.

And come back, after the proper gestation period, and commence in the destruction of our offspring via eating, sword play, a breakdance battle – something violent a British film crew can capture and put on a nature documentary narrated by a member of the cast of “Family Matters.”

All that in the same wedding, just one long ceremony.

I understand it would probably take a while, but with all the animal noises and brutal popping and locking as a means of disposing of the young, it would seem much, much shorter than any wedding you’ve been to.

Let’s face it, weddings are intrinsically boring. A wedding is an event where two people are extremely happy – well, really just one; the man is just in the first stage of grieving, denial – and there are between 50 and 100,000 people completely bored out of their minds.

And then there’s the whole wedding line issue. I think Hell is one never-ending wedding line. Just hand shaking, fake smiling, fielding questions about the appropriateness of your presence and the whole time, deflecting glances suggesting older people think your beard is a sign you’re a vagrant whose only purpose is to eat their finger foods and cake.

You don’t see this wedding-line pain in movies. That’s because real weddings aren’t like movie weddings.

There are no zany antics.

No hooking up.

Just intense boredom, like watching seven hours of C-Span – except without a drunken Ted Kennedy trying to Indian leg wrestle Orrin Hatch.

I think I’d rather crash hemorrhoid cream time at a local retirement home or a Kool-Aid-drinking-comet-watching party at the local compound than crash a wedding.

The only way a wedding is tolerable is if you’re as drunk as the creators of “Cavemen” – the show is based on a commercial. They had to be drunk when they said, ‘This will make a great show.’ I know, because while drunk, I once suggested we should make a heartwarming, coming-of-age movie out of the Trim Spa commercials and cast a cross-dressing Gary Busey as Anna Nicole Smith, the film’s protagonist.

That’s the problem with Utah; weddings here never have a good guest list.

Not uncle Jose, cousin Jack or Jim, Mr. Bud Light – the crazy, inappropriate, but less filling high school guidance counselor – or even Sailor Jerry, fresh off of a salty, high-seas adventure. Sailor Jerry is rum, I had it once. It’s cheap, which was the only vitally important quality.

Before I ever marry a girl, it’s imperative she understands that if there won’t be any beer and whiskey at the reception – and during the actual ceremony – my family will be noticeably absent. In fact, no one I know will come. The groom’s side would be emptier than the premiere of my Trim Spa movie.

It’s unlikely I will ever get married, but if I did get married, it would have to be some ridiculous theme wedding. A grand, pompous affair that leaves everyone feeling dirty, stupid and probably at least in need of some serious remission of sins.

Here’s a short theme-wedding wish list:

1. The caveman-themed wedding.

Not the show – it wouldn’t be a wedding based completely off one lame joke or feature cavemen dressed in sweaters and corduroy pants.

This wedding would involve a lot of facial hair – even on the females – loin cloths and if we can swing it, a saber tooth tiger, or similar beast.

Instead of vows I would just club my hairy, grunting bride over the head and drag her back to my cave, where we would honeymoon by drawing stick animals with the blood of the beast that was bludgeoned to death by the wedding guests.

See, fun for everyone.

2. The aging-child-star-themed wedding.

Think of bridesmaids dressed up like Drew Barrymore. Wait … She’s still famous. Damn. How about Melissa Joan Hart? … Still kind of famous. Damn. Just pick one of the chicks from “Charles in Charge.”

Think of groomsmen dressed as a zitty, post-puberty Jonathan Lipnicki.

Emmanuel Lewis could be the ring bearer and Gary Coleman would marry us. The reception would be very similar to an episode of VH1’s “The Surreal Life” – except Vanilla Ice wouldn’t be invited.

3. The Viking-themed wedding.

Again, everyone has facial hair. gaudy beards, despicably long mustaches.

All have donned some sort of animal skin. It doesn’t matter the animal, as long as it was killed with your bare hands.

It would have to be on a boat, a cruise, if you will. But instead of some ninny Carnival cruise ship, or a fancy yacht, this boat would be a huge wooden monstrosity, constructed from the deforestation of a whole country – which was accomplished in three days by the work of only two seven-foot blond men with axes, eat your heart out Paul Bunyan – and complete with a Viking hood ornament, I’m thinking a large wolf, a pre-stomach-staple Starr Jones or another ferocious beast to scare the bejesus out of indigenous peoples.

Afterwards, the reception will commence on whatever new territory we land upon. But it will be less of a reception and more of a three-day-long, raping-and-pillaging fest.

These others need less explanation.

4. The Lindsey-Lohan-rehab-stint themed wedding.

5. The Michael-Vick-themed wedding.

6. The technology wedding – complete with text messaged vows and Facebook applications.

Et cetera. (The rest are unprintable and will surely burn the retinas of those who are pious.)

And girls only thought they were planning out their weddings. I’ve been fairly sure I wanted to have a wedding based on ’70s game shows for as long as I can remember.

Now all I need is a girl I can dupe into participating in such a mockery of holy matrimony.

Dave Baker is a senior majoring in print journalism. Comments and questions can be sent to da.bake@aggiemail.usu.edu.