Planning a wedding is way too much like work

Good news: the wedding planning is done, and I didn't have to do any of it.

Here is a snippet of the conversations that have been taking place between me and my sister, the fascist dictator who has (thankfully) taken over the wedding planning (which, BTW, was non-existent until she came along):

Sister: "What kind of flowers do you want?"
Me: "Whatever, I don't care."

Sister: "What about center pieces?"
Me: "Uh....I don't know. Whatever."

Sister: "Okay. What about a wedding cake?"
Me: "Do I have to have a cake? I was just thinking I wanted a fondue fountain. I know for a fact that Scott is less likely to shove melted chocolate in my face than cake. But only because it is way harder to grab a handful of melted chocolate than cake. But maybe with the fondue he would just smear it. Which is worse, having smeared chocolate on my face or cream cheese frosting?"

Sister: "Stop trying to change the subject. Who is going to marry you?"
Me: "I have to find someone to marry me? Fine. I choose Elvis."

Sister was not amused.

My question is: if I've already sent out save-the-dates and printed all the invitations, is it too late to go to Vegas? I am not above letting The King marry me and pretending I never sent those save-the-dates.

But I'm pretty sure my sister will have a problem with that. She has, after all, ordered catering, photography, center pieces, flowers, and cowboy boots (the boots are for the bridesmaids to wear--and, BTW, my sister refused to choose the bridesmaids, which is completely lame of her).

I wonder if she'll want to help me apply for a wedding license and change my name? Because, frankly, that is time I'd rather spend trying to crash my bike. After getting a bikini wax.

That scenario is less painful to me than doing wedding planning, which feels way too much like homework.

And in this case, I don't mind letting someone else do my homework, just as long as it gets done.

Thank God for sisters.