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In case you’re wondering why you heard random claps of thunder rock the OKC metro on Saturday night, our severe weather princess Emily Sutton is now a queen. After a curiously long 21-month engagement, she wed the infamous “Michael” at a ceremony in Oklahoma City early Saturday evening.

Here’s the terrifying proof:

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Wait. I posted the wrong depressing photo. That’s the sad grandpa who cooked burgers for his ungrateful asshole grandkids. Here’s the right pic:

Yeah, “Pure Joy.” For what it’s worth, I think she was referring to the brand of dish soap I just rubbed directly in my eyes to numb the pain of my tears.

Okay, I’m just kidding. I’m very happy that Emily Sutton – a woman who farts butterflies, burbs tulips and coughs rainbows – is happily married. From all accounts, it was a beautiful grand affair. Highlights include the lighting of a tornado shaped unity candle, a first dance to The Thunder Rolls, and Reed Timmer frantically trying to halt the wedding like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate.

This also happened:

The event was attended by many members of my KFOR family. I wasn’t there because the person in charge of the invites forgot to drop one in my inbox, but that’s fine because I spent the entire night locked away in my tornado safe place dry heaving Ogletoberfest anyway.

Because they’re cruel, cold-hearted, classless assholes who like to rub shit in people’s faces, several KFOR employees shared photographs and videos from the wedding on social media. They even came up with a special hashtag called #firenado, because Emily’s hunky husband – seriously, Emily Sutton now has a husband – is a brave fireman.

Because I enjoy pain and suffering, let’s check out some of the pics:

Question? I’ve been dealing with some serious stomach pains all weekend. Should I see a doctor?

Anyway, there you have it. Emily Sutton is married. I’m actually very happy that I followed my therapist’s instructions and wrote about it, because acceptance is apparently one of the ways to recover from deep grief and sadness. I’m not mad or bitter or angry or anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m now going to read about the sad, hamburger-cooking grandpa who was stood up by his grandkids again. I could use a little pick me up.