10. I was an usher at my older brother's wedding. I had two important jobs at the wedding. A) Arrange for massages for all the groomsmen before the wedding (WITHOUT happy endings, get your minds out of the gutter) to get us all nice and relaxed, and B) at one point during the ceremony I was required to hand my brother a sash that he gave to the bride to signify her entrance into our family.
After these two relatively simple jobs were done. I got drunk. I got really drunk. I got drunk the way that you think people outside comedies couldn't possibly get drunk. I hit on every woman who wasn't related to me. I broke patio furniture. I apparently exposed myself - NOT on purpose, my brother required all the groomsmen to wear kilts, and I was falling down a lot. My favorite game was to go to a reception table filled with complete strangers, drunkenly demand they all introduce themselves, and then try to impress them by going around the table and saying all their names back to them. The Best Man was given the job of following me around and picking up things that either fell off me or were thrown off me. This included my wallet, keys, tuxedo, dress shirt, and about a dozen condoms. The next morning I woke in a hotel room someone else had to sign for with my credit card - one of the greeters, if I recall, whose wife I had hit on multiple times - because I was too drunk to do it myself. The Best Man had collected so many of my belongings I was running around the hotel in nothing but socks, the kilt, and a t-shirt.
The main reason for the extreme level of my drunken-itude, which BELIEVE ME has never been repeated, was that at the time I was on medication that amplifies the affects of alcohol. I thought that if I stopped taking it five days before the wedding, it would be out of my system. Apparently, I'm not a doctor.
The reason for this story is simple. If I got married, there's pretty much no way I could NOT invite my brother, and he's probably going to want revenge.
9. I spend quite a bit of time trying to stay away from my extended family. Doing something that would necessitate that ALL of them would gather in one place - more importantly in a place where I am present - seems counter-productive.
8. I have no idea who my best man would be. I really don't have many best man candidates. Well, I have a few, but they all live somewhere else now, and haven't spent enough time with me in recent years to say anything cool about me during the reception. I mean, my old buddy Jeff would be a candidate, for example, but if he clinks his glass and demands everyone shut up so he can tell everyone how cool my angsty, emo poems were in high school, I'm gonna punch him in the head.
7. It would be announced in the newspaper, which would give the ninjas an idea where to find me.
6. Sure, there's always eloping, but I hate Vegas. And don't tell me I can elope without going to Vegas. I don't care if I can. If I'm eloping, I'm going to Vegas. If I'm skipping all the window-dressing and going right to the deed without the fanfare, then the guy who marries me is going to be in Vegas, and he's going to be dressed as Elvis. It could be a Space Elvis or a Cowboy Elvis or a Hulk Elvis (preferred), but it will be Elvis. But it won't because I hate Vegas. Which is why I don't want to elope.
5. If I get married, then the terrorists win.
4. Don't really want to deal with every single guest telling my bride stories about Reason #10.
3. Don't want all the other women in the world to sink into depression (ppfffttt..HA HA HA HA HA HA *snort*).
2. I'm not keeping a fucking cake for a year. What kind of insane samurai endurance test is that?
1. If we got divorced, and her lawyer went after my comic books, THERE. WOULD. BE. BLOOD!!!!!
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