It was supposed to be a quiet night at home.

I had three days of freedom left until I tied the knot and all I wanted to do was spend some quality time with my future wife in the relative peace and quiet of our home. I had spent most of the day driving all over New Jersey running last minute errands for the wedding and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep away my growing trepidation and fear. I was so tired that I was even looking forward to my regular nightmare of four golden llamas dragging me through town by the neck as a silk noose slowly choked me to death. When the llamas stopped, the village children would take turns kicking me in the nads while singing The Bride Cuts The Cake.

I usually woke up right before they set me on fire.

Anywaste, I had just gotten home from running errands in New Jersey and needed some sleep in order to be in top form for my wedding. One of the errands I had run was picking up all of the tuxedos for my groomsmen, so I had called all of them and asked them to meet me at my home so they could try them on and we could make sure everything was in order before wearing them on the big day. They all came over and, in-between rounds of Halo, began trying on the tuxedos while I took notes on what needed to be exchanged or altered the next day.

I knew something was up when no one asked about ordering dinner.

At about 8:30pm I was sitting on the couch talking to HoBiscuit, who was on the floor and thus had a good view of everything happening behind me, when she suddenly began to smile. The tiny wheels of coherent thought in my head started to turn and I suddenly remembered that I had not yet had a bachelor party. And, wouldn’t you know it, my entire groomsman party just happened to be in my apartment three fricking days before my actual wedding. And wasn’t it strange how quiet it had gotten all of a sudden, especially since just a few seconds ago everyone but HoBiscuit and I was in the kitchen whispering like a secretive group of super villains plotting world conquest? I mean, it’s not as if I got scared or anything, but when the silence of your own home is shattered by an angry mob of voices screaming, “Get him!” right before you are tackled from behind you tend to get a little freaked out.

Note to self; remember to clean pee stain off of couch.

One moment I was sitting there minding my own business, and the next I was the bottom layer in a Six Layer GeekMan Pound Cake. Someone grabbed my arms and, quick-like-a-bunny, I was fitted with a new shirt before I could even begin to formulate a protest. Now, I’ve owned my fair share of snazzy new shirts before, but never have I ever had the pleasure of wearing one that actually tied in the back! Yes, that’s right, my friends had somehow managed to not only find, but actually force me into wearing, a real honest-to-goodness straight jacket. Not a costume. Not a fake. But a REAL straight jacket.

I’ll even post pictures as proof as soon as I get them.

After the straight jacket I was forced into a mask a-la Silence of the Lambs and then I was marched out the door, into the street and forcibly thrown into the back of a fricking van. Apparently the original plan had called for a hand truck to wheel me around in, but my brother hadn’t been able to get it in time so they made do with simply man-handling me as if I were a rag doll. After I got into the van I started to recover my wits and began insulting them left and right.

Sadly for me, they had also planned for this inevitability.

Out came the mutha-fricking duct tape and suddenly I had lost my last line of defense. My spirit broke and I was at my kidnapper’s mercy. By this time it was after nine, we were driving around the City That Never Sleeps and I could do nothing but shoot my ex-friends dirty looks and pray that they would leave me alone long enough so I could slip my bonds and kill them all.

Needless to say, they actually posted guards on me. I’m not kidding.

Our first stop was…

Due to issues of national defense and homeland security, the rest of the evening’s activities has been edited to their core essence and shall be forevermore summed up as, “Stuff Happened”. Any further inquiries into this matter will be met with strong resistance by all parties involved. Should anyone ever be unfortunate enough to attempt to delve deeper into this issue, they will be found and destroyed like a soiled piece of toilet tissue that has been fired into the very heart of the sun.

We now continue with your regularly scheduled posting.

As I entered the apartment at 5:30 am the next morning, my head filled with cotton, my tongue needing a shave and my body weak from the night’s activities, I saw my lovely fiancé lying in bed waiting for me.

“Did you have fun?”
“I had a blast, honey.”
“What did you do?”
“Uh… Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We had dinner?”
“You mean to tell me that your friends tied you up, threw you in the back of a van and sped off into the night as if the hordes of hell were after them just to take you out for a 12-hour dinner?”

[icy winds]

“Ah… ahem, the restaurant is very strict about their reservations. Very.”

[crickets]

And that’s all I have to say about that. The end.
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Wedding budget? What’s that?

Being who we are, HoBiscuit and I didn’t want to have your typical, boring, everyday seating cards for our wedding. So, in keeping with our wintertime wedding theme, we decided that it would be pretty cool to have snowmen as our seating cards. At first we thought just cutting out snowmen from colored cardboard would be nice, and then we thought making them out of cotton balls would be even nicer.

But then we came up with the ultimate seating card idea.
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We bought our rings this weekend.

I know there’s nothing too exciting, or even humorous, about buying wedding bands, especially when your mind simply shuts down after hearing how much they’re going to cost. Nothing funny happened while we were in the store or speaking to the salesperson. We weren’t even witnesses to any public forms of hilarity or embarrassing moments by other shoppers or motorists as we traveled to and from Lou E. Smiley’s Ring Barn Emporium.

Truly, it was a boring day.

However, after we returned home with HoBiscuit’s ring (mine will take two weeks to finish) I went to the kitchen to get myself a drink. Calling out to HoBiscuit, who was in the back room and thus as far from me as possible in our apartment, I asked her what she might want to drink but I received no answer. Curious as to her sudden silence I quietly tip-toed to the back to see what she was up to that could keep her so quiet.

And when I peek into the room what do I discover?

I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw HoBiscuit sitting in my very brightly lit office, in my chair and at my desk with her hand directly under my super-bright graphics-professional-grade desk lamp. She was turning her hand this way and that to set off the sparkly diamond chips in her wedding band and muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like;

“My Precious. We have him right where we wants him, don’t we my Precious? So pretty. So sparkly. So… Preciousssss…”

I’m man enough to admit that I got so scared I nearly wet myself. Truth be told, immediately afterwards I snuck away to the bedroom because I needed to change my underwear. Anyone out there think it’s too late for me to run?

Dammit, I thought so.