Okay, okay, okay. So, maybe the ordeal of getting me married is a half step worse than getting us lost in Redneckville or yet another New Years spent watching Mojo get wasted.

But Greg, if anyone can do this, it’s you, my brother.

Think of the pros:

-I’ll be a lot less b*tchy once I start getting laid on a regular basis
-There’ll be free booze at the reception, and as part of the wedding party, you get to bump in line
-Men in suits look hot
-It’s a man-corsage — I just couldn’t spell boutonničre

(And, yes, there’s a/c, and, yes, you can wear flip-flops to the reception — I plan to.)

I shed my skin
when the party was about to begin…

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