As Erica is still about 5" shorter than the shortest of us (Me) I think that we are going to look a bit like a protection detail. No one attacks the bride and give menacing looks to anyone who thinkings about objecting. It's really more of a rhetorical question anyway.
By ancient custom, I believe that its the job of the best man to protect the bride. I think in this case I'll leave it to you ladies, seeing as I'm sure people would be less likely to fuck with her with you near her than with me near her. And Ene, thats some spendy fucking underwear. Oh, thanks for the email, you hadn't already sent me any links, and it is sorta important for me to know what I'm supposed to be doing for the wedding.
Does it count if he's tied up in the trunk of my car? How about if he and Matt are tied up in the trunk of my car . . . just in case. In fact, let's tie up all the other men participating in the ceremony! Although, I'm not sure my Prius' trunk is that big. Hmmm.
How did I get tied up in a trunk?mageemqFebruary 2 2005, 14:49:37 UTC
I'm pretty sure Jon's way ahead of me in the succession line, and I promise not to tell anyone what happened to Nick or those other guys....
So I'm watching TV and this commercial comes on, blaming something called a "nasty little stress hormone" for all my problems, and told me to look in the mirror. "You have excess fat around your belly, thighs, and hips right?" Gee. No. My belly's fine. I'm fat like popeye, bitch. You got a drug for that?
Also, how come Jon gets to know what he's supposed to do for the wedding? Is this going to be like that dream where suddenly I'm there and everyone's waiting for me to do something and I don't know what? And then suddenly I realize I'm standing there in my underwear? Come to think of it, by the end, that's a pretty good dream.
Re: How did I get tied up in a trunk?retronamiFebruary 2 2005, 14:56:29 UTC
They do have a drug for that! I suspect it'll be legalized soon enough once everyone realizes how great it is for weightloss. I think some people call it speed.
Either that, or you'll have to lose weight like everyone else with a little drug called "disappointment."
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Awesome :)
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So I'm watching TV and this commercial comes on, blaming something called a "nasty little stress hormone" for all my problems, and told me to look in the mirror. "You have excess fat around your belly, thighs, and hips right?"
Gee. No. My belly's fine. I'm fat like popeye, bitch. You got a drug for that?
Also, how come Jon gets to know what he's supposed to do for the wedding? Is this going to be like that dream where suddenly I'm there and everyone's waiting for me to do something and I don't know what? And then suddenly I realize I'm standing there in my underwear? Come to think of it, by the end, that's a pretty good dream.
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Either that, or you'll have to lose weight like everyone else with a little drug called "disappointment."
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