The Badass of the Week.

The Groom's Guide to Getting Married
Update 6 October 2006 by Amazing Ben

As I may have mentioned somewhere before, the illustrious Hot Andrea and I are finally getting married.  I know that I have written before about all the benefits, both obvious and otherwise, associated with living together with a woman who is way, WAY out of your league.  However, this week I want to share with you everything I've learned about being a part of the unstoppable juggernaut that is our Wedding Machine of Death.  I may be just the groom, but I have garnered quite a bit of wisdom that I would like to pass on to future men who attempt to go down this road, that you might learn from my mistakes.

Sections In This Article

  1. Several ways you can prepare your bride for married life.
  2. A list of behaviors you will need to learn in order to survive the engagement.
  3. Tips and tricks for planning your wedding.

I.  Preparing Her for Married Life

  • Helping Her Find the Right Boyfriend Answers

    No matter what they may believe, no woman is inherently prepared for the trials and tribulations of living with a guy.  There is much for her to learn, and it all starts with the simple act of massaging our fragile egos and providing the right answers to all of our stupid illogical dumbass questions.  To assist any potential brides-to-be out there, I've compiled an easy-to-follow chart diagramming the correct answer to many, if not all, of our idiotic queries:

    If the question starts with:Then the correct answer is:
    "Who would win in a fight between..." "You could kick his/their ass(es)."
    "Who's better looking..." "You are, of course."
    "Do you think that if I wanted to I could..." "Of course you could."
    "Which one of your ex-boyfriends..." "It doesn't matter; none of them can compare to you."
    "Who's better..." "You're the best, of course."
    "Do you sometimes wish I had..." "No, I wouldn't change anything about you."
    "Is is weird that I..." "No, I actually like that about you."

    We as guys require this sort of constant validation, and our lovely, patient and charming brides-to-be are the only ones we know we can really count on for any sort of motivational encouragement in our day-to-day lives.  Our questions almost always involve comparing us to something or someone else, and we really need to hear that we're the best at everything we do even if is painfully obvious that we're not.  For instance, we all know that nine times out of ten I would be horribly killed in a humiliating and painful way if I had to fight Optimus Prime in a one-on-one duel to the death.  I mean, let's be realistic here:  The guy is a freaking twenty-foot tall giant robot that turns into a Mack Truck and shoots goddamned lasers out of his hands.  I know this.  Hot Andrea probably knows this.  But if I ask who would win in a no-holds-barred Hell in a Cell deathmatch between the two of us, I need Andrea to validate me in that respect and say something like, "well you'd probably be more pissed off and could probably like poke out his robot eyes or punch his robo-balls off or something", because I am a weak and insecure man.  All men are.  It's just a matter of getting your girlfriend to help validate your outrageous claims.

    There's no clear-cut way to do this.  I guess the chart above is a pretty helpful guide, so if you're not totally sold on the concept of handing your girlfriend a printout of my awesome chart you could probably just email this page to her and be like, "oh man honey, this guy's such a stupid cock look at all the crazy shit he says", and then hope against hope that she takes some part of this section to heart, because there are fewer things more emasculating than having your loving girlfriend inform you that she thinks you would probably get your ass beat in a fistfight with a male model or a pretty-boy film celebrity.

  • The Slow, Steady Conversion to Dorkiness

    If you're as big a loser as me, you're going to eventually want to introduce your bride-to-be to your dark and sinister seedy underbelly of super-dorkdom.  There will be plenty of opportunities in your relationship to do this, but it must be a careful and delicate process or you will lose her faster than Luke Skywalker lost his hand to Darth Vader on Bespin's Cloud City.  A good reference point is the graph below, which is set-up like the U.S. Department of Homeland Security's Terror Alert System to act as a constant reminder of the sheer terror you can inspire in her when you talk about Dungeons & Dragons or ten-sided dice in mixed company.

    Dorkiness LevelSample Activities
    GreenEating breakfast; watching television; surfing the internet
    BlueJapanese game shows; All Your Base; SeaLab 2021
    YellowStar Wars; Playstation 2 Games; Computer networking
    OrangeD&D; Magic Cards; Painting Warhammer 40K figurines
    RedDragoncon; Ren Faires; Fanfic; Vampires; Anime

    Converting your fiancée to The Dork Side is a delicate process that must begin early on in the relationship.  The real trick here is to pretend you're only interested in the Green "normal" stuff like network television and computer solitaire for the first couple of dates.  After she gets to the point where she (hopefully) realizes she likes you, then you can start introducing the Blue "bizarre yet funny" items at a moderate clip.  An episode of MXC here, a weird Flash animation of a Scottish lawn gnome getting insulted by an angry talking llama there... get her used to the idea that you have a crazy sense of humor - it will make you seem interesting and a little kooky, but the true dorkiness of your inner self will still remain shielded behind a thin force-field facade of supposed cool-dudeness.  Once she is comfortable with the Blue, you can begin to introduce Yellow, which is the "mainstream dorky" stuff.  This is where it gets difficult, because you have a good chance of scaring her away if you jump right in and try to show her your entire collection of Han Solo action figures all at once.  You need to introduce the Yellow stuff one at a time, and sort of "ween" her onto the idea of it.  Show her the movie.  If she seems interested, show her a single item from your collection.  If she pretends to still give a crap, slowly continue to introduce more and more dorky shit related to this.  If at any time she seems frightened or creeped out by you, abort the process immediately and never speak of it again.  Wait about a month and start in with a different Yellow thing that you are interested in.

    You are under no circumstances to even begin to discuss anything Orange-grade with her until AFTER you have given her the engagement ring and she has agreed to marry you - the big shiny ring you paid five grand for will be the only thing keeping her from running in terror at the sheer mention of your tabletop wargaming fetish or your Level 20 Paladin's Mithril Sword +3 Icy Burst.  You must also be even more careful when introducing your fiancée to Orange items than you were with the Yellow, for these monstrosities of geekdom are truly the sort of thing that can forever taint her perception of you.  If she is comfortable with a couple of Yellow-grade things, then maybe you can attempt to woo her over to the Orange.  Patience is the key here.  That, and the mandate that you never mention your (or her) interest in anything Orange-grade when the two of you are out in public.

    A notable exception to this would be like if you both are squarely in the Red-grade and met at like ComicCon '04 or a secret underground Anne Rice blood-drinking candle-burning techno-music fan club or something.  If that's the case, I really can't help you.  I'm sorry.

II.  Preparing Yourself for Married Life

  • Welcome to the Boyfriend Section

    When most guys are younger they spend countless hours in their backyard battling imaginary pirates and preparing themselves mentally and physically to display unequaled shows of daring bravery in the face of certain death.  We all firmly believe that we would be able to hold our own if we were walking with our girlfriends down a dark street late at night and were suddenly jumped by a pack of twenty angry, nunchuck-wielding, fire-breathing, black-clad ninjas wearing ski masks.  We know that we would simply yell, "stand back", and leap into action, kicking the asses of anyone who would confront our fiancée's honor in an unparalleled display of heroism and an unstoppable flurry of flying side kicks and diving headbutts.  We are all ready and prepared to face these irrational dangers head-on in the unlikely event that they should ever present themselves.

    However, standing alone in a crowded Victoria's Secret while your girlfriend goes into the fitting room requires a sort of bravery that you have never before faced, and that no man can ever rightfully prepare himself for.  Few things a man must do are more difficult than flying solo in a sea of bras and panties, trying not to make eye contact with any of the nearby women while desperately (and unsuccessfully) attempting to strike that delicate balance between looking like a closet cross-dresser and lecherous pervert while middle-aged soccer moms glare at you out the corner of their eyes and teenage girls accost you with looks of disgust the likes of which you haven't seen since high school.

    You will also have to face the ignominy of women's clothing boutiques as well, with nothing but a never-ending flow of super-crappy overly-loud sugary-sweet boy-band emo pop music to keep you company.  You face the same uncomfortable looks from nearby women, and that special sort of insecurity that comes from being completely out of your natural element.  This is only further complicated if there is another displaced boyfriend around.  When it is just you and another man, both standing agitatedly near the entrance to the women's dressing room at The Gap, it is of the utmost importance that you do not under any circumstances attempt to initiate conversation or make eye contact.  It is both of your secret shame that you have been doomed to this inglorious fate, and by acknowledging this fact you are only bringing attention to that which you should never speak of.  Just simply stare at the floor and pretend that you are somewhere else.

    Another offshoot of this is when you inevitably will wind up helping her do her laundry, or at the very least discover that there are some of her clothes in your laundry basket.  This is yet another test for your wits and bravery.  Yes, most people will know that the Barbie-pink "Hello Kitty" thongs you're holding probably don't belong to you and that you're just doing your girlfriend's laundry, but it's incredibly difficult to look confident while walking down the street from the laundromat to your apartment clutching a handful of frilly black lace bras.

  • Dealing with the Inevitable Meltdowns

    The engagement period is an emotional time for most women, filled with uncertainty, doubt and flipping out and punching the mailman in the face for no reason while kicking small dogs in the crotch and cursing the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Andrea once told me, "I have two moods right now;  bitchy and weepy".  While this is true, you will actually need to know how to deal with three separate and distinct types of meltdown.

    The first meltdown is what I like to call "The Weepy Mess", and generally is categorized by the sad kind of crying.  More often than not this is just a stress reaction to how much fucking work you have left to do for the wedding or how all your vendors/guests/bridal party are trying to screw you like they were Bob Vila and you were a piece of plywood.  At this time, you can only offer words of comfort and a shoulder to cry on, and both of those are about as useful to her as a third breast or an athletic supporter.

    The second meltdown you will face is "The Emotional Overload".  As I mentioned before, your fiancée's emotions will be running high around this time, and sometimes the weirdest stuff can cause her to start crying.  Like you'll just be watching TV and a commercial will come on with a girl hugging a dog and you'll look over and she'll be crying like somebody died and doing that thing where she tries to fan air onto her face in an effort to stop tearing up somehow.  I'm not even kidding about this - everything from baseball to The Golden Girls to motherfucking A.C. Slater can trigger some sort of crazy emotional overload meltdown.  Luckily, this one is easy to deal with.  She totally understands how ridiculous it is that a talking frog on TV made her cry, and really at this point just needs a hug.

    The final meltdown is what I have termed "Andrea, Full of Rage".  This is when your beautiful blushing bride becomes a full-on Bridezilla of Kill Bill proportions.  It doesn't take much to set her off crying, and it sometimes will take even less to set her off on an epic cursing streak that would make Andrew Dice Clay look like Barney the Dinosaur.  Your first step when facing this sort of angry meltdown is to do everything humanly possible to try and deflect her rage onto a neutral third party.  Like if she flips out like a ninja for no reason and starts going off about how pissed off she is while swerving her car into oncoming traffic, giving old ladies and small children the finger and dropping nuclear f-bombs, you can pretty much just stay quiet and let her ride it out.  If she gets pissed at YOU though, like going off about why you haven't dropped the rings off at the engraver or something, I find that mentioning something completely non-sequitur (but still wedding-related) is still an effective way of diverting her meltdown.  Here's an example:

    Bride:  Why in the holy living fuckmeister haven't we picked a motherfucking color for our goddamned tablecloths yet blah blah blah??!?!?!

    You:  Man, don't you fucking HATE our florist?

    Bride:  OH HOLY FUCKING SHITCASKET don't get me started blah blah blah!!!

    You:  (Say nothing)

    Crisis averted.  With her anger properly redirected, you can just kick back, relax, and pay attention because you're going to learn some pretty entertaining new compound expletives.  Like "fucking cockburgers".  I actually think I heard "fuckhelmet" and "cuntbiscuit" both used in the same sentence the other day, which is pretty damned impressive.  It can certainly be hilarious when your bride starts going off like this, but you must do your best not to laugh or do anything to bring attention to yourself.  It's sort of like how you're supposed to remain completely motionless when you're being hunted by a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  You've also gotta do your best to try and make sure she doesn't get too out of hand.  Really, the most important thing to remember during this meltdown is not to confront her directly and to simply acquiesce to whatever she wants.  There will be plenty of time for lively debate once her urge to kill has subsided and she's not ready to forcibly jam her car keys into someone's eye.  Any attempt to face her wrath head-on is suicide, and will only earn you a three-inch heel firmly embedded into your nutsack.


  • Finding the Right Girlfriend Answers

    I mentioned the boyfriend answers earlier, but that deadly buzzsaw-on-a-pendulum swings both ways.  Despite what you may think, this is actually far trickier for guys than it is for girls.  Guys are very predictable about what we want to hear, and as long as you say the correct words, you will get bonus points with us and keep our ever-so-delicate rampant egomania completely intact.  Women on the other hand are very different... they KNOW that you have to say nice things to them if you want to have any chance of getting laid ever again, and they're well-prepared for it.  With women, you not only have to SAY the right words, but you have to convince them that you TRULY MEAN it and aren't just telling them what you think they want to hear.  This is a delicate process at best.

    Guys generally vary their questions and problems, but the end results are always the same;  one day it may be, "who would win in a fight between King Kong and John the Baptist" and one day it may be "who would win in a fight between John Wayne and a horse", but the answer is always the same - "it really doesn't matter honey, because you could probably take both of them".  With girls it's usually the same problems all the time as well - they either think they're fat, unattractive, bitchy, or otherwise unlovable/unlikeable/unmarryable.  It doesn't matter how hot she is, how skinny she is, or how many friends she has, ALL girls have the same insecurities and ALL girls think they need to lose five pounds.  And the answer is always the same - an emphatic "no".  Anything short of this, even saying something as seemingly innocuous as "I'm sorry you feel that way", will go over about as well as if you stuck an apple in her mouth and did your best impression of a squealing pig.  Seriously.  If you don't think you can convince her beyond a shadow of a doubt that you don't believe that what she's saying is crazy, you might as well just "moo" at her as loud as you can and then hit yourself in the balls with a hammer because you have FAILED this test MISERABLY.  Hang your head in shame, because you are a loser.

    Of course it's never that easy though, because as I mentioned before she's not going to believe you.  She knows that you have to say "no, you're not" when she says she's fat, and therefore your words mean have as much meaning as a Klingon self-help book or a David Lynch movie.  Even if you do manage to convince her over the course of a fifteen-minute long conversation that you honestly believe what you're telling her, the next time she gets hit with pangs of self-doubt all your hard work will go for naught and you'll have to re-convince her all over again.  On the other hand, if you say that she looks like a walrus one time in your entire life, you will never, EVER live that down.  Chicks' memories are weird like that.  Just know that there is a right girlfriend answer, and that you're going to devote a lot of time to convincing her that you aren't just saying words to make her feel better or to get her to stop complaining.  That's just one of the concessions you have to make for love.

    The only other real questions that you have to worry about answering "correctly" also stem from her insecurities and also need to be handled the same way.  These are the "do you think she's hot", "would you ever sleep with one of my friends" and "would you like me better if my tits were the size of basketballs" questions.  The correct answer for these is also always an emphatic, believable "no".

III.  Planning the Wedding

  • Overview

    The Cardinal Rule of being a groom is this:  Stay the fuck out of the way.  Be interested, but not TOO interested.  Convince her that you're excited about the wedding, but give her space to do her thing.  Essentially your bride's entire life has been spent dreaming about and planning this one day, and before you even popped the question she knew that she wanted green bridesmaids' dresses and a bouquet of white roses.  I'm not even kidding either.  While you were off daydreaming as a kid about making the diving catch in the end zone and wining the Super Bowl, she was trying to figure out whether she wanted fairy princesses or white unicorn ponies to act as flower girls at her wedding.  Any attempt by you to get in the way is going to throw a wrench in her plans, so just stay out of it.  You are an accessory, not an integral part of the wedding ceremony.  YOU are replaceable.  Black pocket-fold invitation envelopes and monogrammed custom-made table runners are not.

    However, a delicate balance must be maintained.  If you get TOO hands-off in your wedding planning duties, you will be accused of "not giving a shit about the wedding".  This is EVEN WORSE than trying to help and inevitably fucking something up, because when you're fucking everything up you're at least making an honest (if not insanely incompetent) effort.  If you don't give a shit, it makes her seriously wonder why she decided to marry you, since any rejection of the wedding or anything it entails directly translates into a personal rejection of her.  You don't care about the guestbook?  Well fuck you then.  She'll find someone who does.

  • Deciding on Aesthetics

    Here's a brief insight as to what the initial phases of your wedding planning is going to be like - you're going to be looking at a lot of stuff like the two swatches below and you wil be asked which one you like better:

    If you can use actual words to describe the difference between these two colors, then you're either a woman or you're the kind of guy that can only legally get married in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

    Any attempt to differentiate between red, bright red, blood red, scarlet, crimson, vermillion, cherry, burgundy, cardinal, black magic, garnet, fire engine, cerise, rust, blush, rouge, wine, brick, maroon, cranberry and carmine will only result in complete and total failure and is essentially an exercise in making you want to kill yourself in a violent and horrible way with some sort of gardening implement.  My advice to you is to save yourself the trouble.  The "correct" answer when presented with an aesthetic color choice like the example I've provided is just to say, "I don't know honey, which one do YOU like better?" (Note:  This is the correct answer for most wedding-related questions).  This will make your bride feel like you trust her decision implicitly and have faith in her abilities, which will boost her confidence and hopefully empower her to make this seemingly-inconsequential decision unilaterally.  In the more-often-than-not case that she sees through your bullshit and calls you on it, simply admit that you cannot tell the two colors apart and hang your head in shame while she expresses her incredulity at your imperceptiveness, accuses you of not giving a shit about your wedding, and then spends six minutes explaining the exact definition of the term "redder".  She will potentially then ask you yet again which shade you like better.  In situations like this, I generally choose the farthest one to the left, whatever that may be. 

  • Doing Crafty Stuff

    Are you talented when it comes to crafts, drawing and/or any sort of manual dexterity?  I'm sure not!  But that doesn't matter:  You WILL be assisting in the construction of many, many, many do-it-yourself projects.  You are going to learn the difference between (and effective uses of) a hot glue gun, a glue stick, Elmer's glue, wood glue, glue dots, fabric glue, super glue, memory mount, double-sided tape, plastic glue and rubber cement and you are going to learn it FUCKING FAST.  If you are too uncoordinated or inept to perform simple feats of detailed hand-eye coordination, that doesn't mean you're going to get out of helping out with DIY stuff.  For instance, when I fucked up addressing the first couple of hand-made embossed invitations we sent out I was locked in a dungeon and relegated to spending countless hours with my new girlfriend Nicole the Heat Tool.  Nicole and I embossed our asses off until I had had heat blisters on several of my fingers, my back was permanently stuck in the "hunched over" position and I became an albino due to lack of exposure to the sun.  Yes, Andrea did pretty much ALL of the hard work and I only did about 5% of the total crafting for the wedding, but I still spent more time with hands-on crafts stuff than I have since elementary school art class or that time I was in a Vietnamese prisoner-of-war sweatshop/internment camp/day-care center.  You're going to have many long evenings of painting, decorating, fastening, folding, cutting, measuring, stitching, matching and assembling to look forward to for the duration of your engagement, and just when you think you're finally finished with all your DIY projects your bride is going to decide she wants to make a decorative card box or that she doesn't like the color of the save-the-dates or something and you'll have to scrap all of your hard work and do it all over again.

  • Learning to Dance

    The question I get asked most often when I'm dancing with Hot Andrea is, "how is it that you were a drummer yet you have absolutely no rhythm?".  Well it's a little known fact that there is a difference between "having rhythm" and "being able to dance".  Any idiot can hear the music, but it takes a level of coordination not possessed by many of us goofy white boys to be able to accurately flail your body around in sync with what is going on.  That's the trick.  See, I KNOW I'm off rhythm;  I'm just powerless to do anything about it.  As a result, my dancing repertoire breaks down as follows:

    Dances I Can Do:
    1. The White Man Shuffle
    2. The Robot (sort of)
    3. The Dirty Bird
    4. That Uncoordinated White Boy Dance Chandler Does on Friends
    5. The Running Man

    Not only can Andrea can do all of these, but she can also do the Kid-N-Play, the standard Hip-Hop dance where you shake your hips around like you're humping the air, and that crazy Goth dance where you pretend that you're holding an invisible basketball (the latter dates back to her Black Lipstick phase in college, a phase I regrettably missed out on the majority of).  Her brother can also do The Worm, which is totally sweet.  We're considering asking him to do The Worm all the way down the aisle at our wedding ceremony, but we aren't really sure how well that will go over with the grandparents yet.

    The point of this section is to let you all know that I am SUPER MEGA GAY because Andrea and I took a dance class together so that we don't completely fucking embarrass ourselves on our traditional first dance.  Well, actually it's probably so that I don't completely fucking embarrass us on our traditional first dance.  The point is that the next time you see me I'm going to be cutting a motherfucking rug so hard that it's going to make a hole in the Earth, so check yourself bitches.  You're going to have your fucking your pants danced off like I was motherfucking Dean Martin in a dance competition for quadriplegics.

  • Registering for Gifts

    I'll be honest with you - I was a little less than pumped-up about the prospect of registering for wedding presents.  It just conjured up demonic images of staring glassy-eyed at endless racks of identical glassware or meticulously trying to pick out that "perfect" set of fine china that we'll use like once every fifteen years and keep in a glass case the rest of the time until I accidentally trip on something and destroy five hundred dollars of dishware in one fell swoop.  But let me tell you this:  Gift registering is FUCKING AWESOME and anyone who says differently SUCKS GOAT BALLS in a big way.

    First off, registering for presents by nature is totally kickass.  Basically, you just make a huge list of shit you want and then people buy it for you like chumps.  But it's even better than that.  Like when we went to register at a housewares store downtown, they had a special party that was more awesome than a barrel full of eyepatch-wearing monkey pirates on crack.  They opened the store two hours early, only let in the couples who were going to register, and then set up stations with Momosas, champagne, coffee, bagels, doughnuts, pastries, muffins and all kinds of crazy food and shit.  If this sounds awesome, it was.  What was even better was that there was a horrible fucking snowstorm that morning, so there were only like twenty people in the entire store and there was like ten times the amount of food that they actually needed.  I ate so many goddamned chocolate doughnuts that my eyes almost fell out and I thought I was going to barf (in a good way).  Then they give you this awesome scanner that looks like a crazy futuristic laser pistol and let you run all over the place shooting the shit out of anything you want like some kind of crazy homosexual Space Rambo.  It's pretty easy to get carried away with this - I pretty much just ran around scanning anything that even looked remotely cool and I think we ended up registered for like seventeen George Foreman grills, half a dozen coffee makers and a box full of replacement parts for a brand of toaster that we don't even own.  The only way they could have made the registering process better would have been if you got to wear like Laser Tag gear, and could use the scanner to try and shoot other couples while they were registering... like maybe if you nailed them with the laser gun you'd steal their registry or something.  Kind of like paintball with kitchen appliances and wine glasses.

  • Cake Tasting

    Cake tasting was the other highlight of the engagement process.  Basically you just go to a place that makes totally kickass custom cakes and they let you eat like fifteen different kinds of cake for FREE.  I think we went to like three different places and I ate probably two hundred cakes in a month and a half and it was everything I could have ever hoped for and more.  I was so sad when we finally made the decision, because it was the end of one of the best months of my life.

    Once we're actually married, I'm going to try and convince Andrea to go on a fake-cake-tasting crime spree with me where we try to trick everyone into giving us free taste tests.  That's going to be fucking sweet.

  • Looking Pimp

    The best part of the wedding ceremony is getting to look totally pimp with all your groomsmen.  Well, that and declaring your undying love to the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with, but also the pimpness of having a bitchin' walking cane with a chrome-plated skull with red eyes attached to the end of it.  My original idea was to go with the traffic cone orange top-hat, cane and tails outfit Jim Carey wears in Dumb and Dumber but APPARENTLY that doesn't fit our color scheme.

    This was my second choice for groomsmen attire:

    Unfortunately, it's actually cheaper to rent real-life tuxes than it is to get full-size replica Imperial Stormtrooper armor, which is a crock of shit.  However, we're all going to look totally sweet in our tuxes, like some sort of fucked-up James Bond reject brigade or something.

  • The Bachelor and Bachelorette Parties

    Ah yes, the bachelor party.  That last bastion of unmarried freedom where you get all your youthful indescretions out of your system and say goodbye to single life forever.  Most guys go out and see strippers, try desperately for the last time in their lives to touch boobs that don't belong to their wives, and maybe get the last blowjob they will ever receive.  Me, I plan on spending my bachelor party exactly as I spent the majority of my single life - drinking beer, eating pizza and playing video games.

    I pretty much envision it going down like this.  Even if I had wanted strippers, the fact that Andrea's brother is going to be there precludes us from having them, since I don't really want to get my ass beat two days before my wedding.  Honestly, strippers are not something that I'm really all that keen on anyways.  Maybe that makes me a total loser, but I think we all pretty much knew that already.  It's truly a testament to how fucking lame I am that I think it's going to be awesome to get a bunch of friends together for an evening of super dorky shit.  We're going to pick up 40's of Olde English or Colt 45 or Miller High Life or something, hook two TVs and two Xboxes together and play eight-player wargames on the system-link.

    We've got Star Wars Battlefront II ready to rock, and as a testament to my friend Morloc I think we have to play some Halo as well.  I mean, eight-man Team Deathmatch on Blood Gulch is pretty much how I envision his tour of duty in Iraq with the 82nd Airborne Division went down.  He will neither confirm nor deny this, but I think we all know the truth:

    Andrea's having a bachelorette party as well, and from what I can gather through my nefarious means it's pretty much going to consist of karaoke and penis paraphernalia.

    The t-shirt I bought for the Bachelor Party.

  • The Music

    The experience of attempting to put together a playlist for our wedding reception has taught me that roughly 95% of my favorite songs contain inappropriate language or themes, and the remaining 5% are about breaking up.  However, despite the fact that I have nothing in my thirty gigabyte MP3 collection that wouldn't make my grandmother cry, we have to come up with something for the DJ to play.  Otherwise, we're going to be stuck listening to fucking "Dancing Queen" by ABBA fifty times in a row while my rockstar older brother is off in the corner trying desperately to slash his own wrists with our monogrammed cake serving utensils.  Here's what we've got so far:

    Wedding Playlist:
    The Gap Band - You Dropped a Bomb on Me
    Rick James - Super Freak
    Wild Cherry - Play that Funky Music White Boy
    The Commodores - Brick House
    Young MC - Bust a Move
    Vanilla Ice - Ice Ice Baby
    Guns 'N Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine

    That's right, baby!  It's going to be motherfucking 70s funk, 90s rap and G-N-R ALL THE WAY UP YOUR ASS.  Can you handle that?!  As if that's not totally sweet enough, we've hired a classical guitarist and a violinist to play Apocalyptica-style rock covers for our wedding ceremony.  Like Andrea's going to come down the aisle to "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters, and after we're officially pronounced man-and-babe we're going to leave to "White Wedding" by Billy Idol.  Yeah, it's totally fucking sweet.  You don't need to tell me.

    The only other real music choice we had to make was for our entrance to the reception.  We had to think long and hard about this one, because we wanted it to be totally sweet, like Bret "Hitman" Hart's WCW entrance theme or Hulk Hogan's "I Am a Real American" music.  We're going to let the rest of the bridal party come out to the Austin Powers theme, and since Andrea and I are big Arrested Development fans, we're going to come out to "The Final Countdown" by Europe.  It's going to be the hottest thing since the creation of the Sun.

  • The Honeymoon

    Now this is what I'm talking about.  Did you know that some chicks by special lingerie just for the honeymoon?  That's pretty freaking sweet.  Guys can't/don't/won't do anything nearly as hot as that, though I do own a pair of boxers emblazoned with black ski diamonds and the word "Expert", and you better believe I'm packing those fuckers.

    In the off-chance that you're actually interested, we're going to spend a week on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, touring wineries, chilling out, and going over the falls in a home-made barrel.

    A classic honeymoon destination.
    Just look at how much fun these folks are having.

    The type of barrel we're using to go over the falls.

  • Paying for All This Shit

    There are two kinds of people who get married:  Spoiled bitches with rich and fiscally irresponsible parents, and people who can't afford to get married.  Unfortunately, we are the latter.  Both Andrea and I had to take out second jobs to afford all this crap, since as soon as you mention to someone that you're getting married they decide that it's appropriate mark everything up by 300%.  I'm not even kidding.  The wedding industry is a fucking racket the likes of which would make the Genovese Family and the Japanese Yakuza blush.  So Andrea busted her ass at a sporting goods store and a Starbucks, and I toiled away at Staples and fucking RadioShack working sixty hour weeks and trying not to throw myself in front of a bus.  We cut corners wherever we could, and fifteen thousand dollars later - BAM.  We came in under the average wedding budget for our area by about ten grand, which is sweet as hell and makes us almost forget about the fucking ass-jamming we're taking on this wedding.

  • Getting Screwed Over By Everyone

    As I just said, part of being an engaged couple is the fact that everybody and anybody will try to ream your ass whenever they can.  Order flowers for a birthday party and it will cost you twenty bucks.  Mention it's for a wedding and the same bouquet goes for two hundred dollars.  Rent a hall for a family reunion and you'll pay one-tenth of what you would pay if you rented it for a wedding reception.  It's shit like that that will piss you off worse than realizing you've spent the entire day walking around with your underwear on the outside of your pants.

    A good example of getting dicked over by vendors is what we're now calling "Tuxedogate 2006".  Basically the gist of the story is that we rented tuxes for our bridal party and fronted everything up front to the tune of eighty bucks a pop.  Not a bad deal.  However, when the charge actually hit our credit card, it was about three hundred dollars more than we were expecting it to be.  Andrea called them and they were all like, "well you obviously just misunderstood what the price was.  It's actually $130 each".  This only served to awaken the dark spirit of Andrea, Full of Rage.  She responded with "maybe you don't understand how far I'm going to shove my foot up your ass if you don't give us our fucking money back so we can take our business elsewhere.  It's actually pretty fucking far".  The dude said he was going to talk to his boss and get back to us.  One week and like ten dodged phone calls later, Andrea finally got this stupid jackass on the phone again.  He was like, "OK we'll refund it but we're keeping a forty dollar deposit PER TUXEDO".  She told him this was unacceptable, and informed him that "if I have to torch your motherfucking store, we are going to get that deposit back."

    The matter is currently pending.

    The bridal party must always be ready to deal with people who try to screw them over.

  • Inviting Famous People

    You really can't go wrong by sending wedding invitations to famous people, because you never know what you might get back.  We know people who have gotten signed RSVPs back from George W. Bush and Martha Stewart - they didn't attend, but holy crap how cool would it be to have someone famous autograph your wedding invitation?  Of course, we all know that since I'm an internet mega-celebrity any famous person should feel honored to be invited to my wedding and will all be in attendance, so it's almost like I have my pick of who will come help me and Andrea celebrate our nuptuals.  I mentioned a couple weeks ago that we were going to invite Boston Red Sox Third Baseman Kevin Youkilis to the wedding.  Well we're also looking at asking a few more people as well.  Here's a brief photo montage of people you can expect to see at our wedding, which is destined to be the wedding of the century.  Man, our would-be guests are TOTALLY going to miss out on this awesome opportunity:

Billy Idol

Marc Summers

Christopher Walken

Elvira, Mistress of the Night

I am getting married in less than a week.

Holy fucking shit.


The Complete List

About the Author

Miscellaneous Articles