Wow, I don't think I'm ever going to plan a wedding (no offense, Liz). For six months I've listened to the girl in the office next to me have at least twenty fights apiece with her fiance and her mother where at the end she hangs up on them. (This is an otherwise extremely mild-mannered girl we're talking about.) Here's a transcription of today's:
"All I need to know is if he's coming or not. I don't CARE if he doesn't come but he has to tell us today. ... Well, he must not understand American customs, but I need to know today if he's going to come. ... What do you mean he might leave early? Look, as long as he's sitting down at the table with a plate of food in front of him, that's what I need to know. I have to get the final head count to the caterer tomorrow. ... Then that means he's NOT coming if he's telling you he might come, and that's totally rude. ... And his wife, too? Then we're totally screwed! That is so rude of him! ... FINE, then YOU can call the caterer!" Slam.