alaaubcaketopper.jpgBiff and Ginny should get married.

That’s what BJ said.

I’ve known Biff and Ginny for a long time. It’s a terrible idea.

Which is why we’re all in favor.

The only reason we came up with the idea is because both of them have been caught napping lately. Parties, charity events, dinners, kidney transplants — they’ve slept through them all.

So naturally, they should get married. Like my dog and cat should get married.

(The cool part is I’d be both best man and maid of honor. The bachelor / bachelorette parties would need to be on different nights, but other than that, I could handle it.)

But then, 5 p.m. Saturday would roll around. We’d all be in our Sunday best at the church, with neither bride nor groom on hand.

At least, we can get the reception started earlier. More cake for us.

Around 6:15 p.m., I’d get a text message from one or both apologizing. They didn’t hear the phone ring or the alarm go off. They’re on their way, after a quick shower and a stop to purchase smokes.

Maybe by 7:30 or 8, Biff stumbles in, groggy, a little cranky at having to leave in another 20 minutes for a gig. And Ginny comes in, asking if the preacher is still there and can she get the deposit back or reschedule for next Thursday.

They look like hell. The videographer turns off the camera and packs it in.

We saved them some cake. But not the good pieces.

The bridesmaids, who have flown in for this sideshow, are pissed, and their children are running around throwing rice at each other and the old people. The groomsmen are still hung over from the bachelor party three nights ago.

It’s raining, so no one can really read the smeared back window on the rental Scion that says “Just Re-Re-Re-Married.” And Ginny’s mom suddenly realizes that she forgot to feed all of their cats.

The iPod playing the wedding mix runs out of juice, and right in the middle of the extended Guns ’n’ Roses tribute. It’s too early to go to Marty’s, too late to get a decent dinner. But never too late to resume drinking.

A match made in sanity. Make that, insanity.

By the way, they’ll be registered at the Alarm Clock Emporium, Waffle House and Sam Goody.

Save the date. And, of course, rest up.


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