Okay, by popular demand (or, by the request of two people), I am dedicating this post to the description of Jazz Hands from Ben and Amy's wedding lore.
When you only have four months to plan a wedding you need to be flexible and go with the flow. You also need to make quick decisions on things. Normally, quick decision-making is not my forte but I was actually a very non-dramatic and efficient bride. Many of these quick decisions turned out great - the venue for my reception, the food (which was apparantly delicious, although I didn't actually get to eat any of it), the cake. However, some hastily-made decisions left a little to be desired. Such as, of course, the photographer. In all fairness, I don't think the photographer was bad (except that I kind of do), just not so much my style. And she didn't take some of what I would have thought were very typical wedding pictures (like me with just my bridesmaids, or me with my sister).
Anywho, the photographer's biggest fault was her sense of artistic creativity - which culminated in her directive to our wedding party to line up around us and flash some jazz hands toward the happy couple. For your entertainment, I have taken a picture of this - my most embarassing wedding picture, hands down:

Note the lack of enthusiasm exibited by our wedding party at this atrocious request. I think my bridesmaids - bless their hearts - actually put on a good face and gave it their best effort. Although you can practically see the thoughts in their heads: "You want us to do
what???" The groomsmen - particularly Ben's brother in the front - can't seem to hide their true feelings about the exercise. In retrospect, I should have stepped up and simply said, "Actually, I don't really want a picture with jazz hands, thank you." But being the people-pleaser that I try to be, I slapped on a smile and let my wedding party go about flailing their arms and flashing their hands in an effort to create the fun, light-hearted photo that my photographer undoubtedly imagined I would blow up and hang above the fireplace.
Moral of this story to all other clueless bride-to-bes out there: get a referral for your photographer, and don't be afraid to boss him/her around a little.