Yvette's Bridal Formal (Thanks, Pulp Dallas!)

Every aspect of tradition-steeped, decorous events such as weddings must be handled in a tasteful manner. At least that's the conventional wisdom, on which Yvette's Bridal Formal spits with corrosive neon-colored bile. Even blind browsers might sense impending doom, noting the swelling volume of the main page's horror-movie strings, but only those blessed with the occasionally accursed gift of sight can fully comprehend this site's malicious ugliness.

Suggested: Stare directly into the sun before viewing.

No matter where you step in this visual and aural minefield, you'll inevitably combust. Say, for example, morbid curiosity dictates that you click on this peculiar "Gloves" icon, which depicts a woman who's wearing nothing on her fingers but appears to have recently breastfed a rodent. Yvette punishes your impudent decision with a blaring bagpipes rendition of "Here Comes The Bride." Click on "more poetry"? Ominous thunderstorm effects accompany a ghoulish portrait and rambling prose. For masochists who can't wait to stick their entire heads in the threshing machine, there's "Leisure Diversions," a portal into abject insanity that abandons all semblance of formal wear propriety. Somewhere in Panama City, Florida, there's a bride who's painfully unaware that her wedding dress vendor enjoys conspiracy theories, MS Painted giraffes and poetic odes to trolls.

Too late.

– Andrew "Garbage Day" Miller