“That’s not a thing that’ll happen,” he said easily. “In fact, you can speak for up to a minute as my best man and that’s it. No embarrassing stories. No anecdotes. You tell everyone how much you love me, how awesome Vince is for making me happy, and you’re done.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “I’ll go online and get ordained and then I’ll write something pretty about feelings and unicorns and stickers or whatever else love means these days. It will probably take at least an hour. I will use flowery language that will make everyone within a four-block radius cringe in glee.”
“My wedding is already ruined,” he groaned.
“Second,” I said, ignoring his protestations, “there will be a bachelor party and you do not get a say otherwise.”
“Nana already beat you on that one this morning.” He dug his phone out of his pocket. He clicked through the screen before handing me a text conversation.
There better be some dong
Nana JFC WTH?
I don’t know what any of that means. Speak normal, Paul
Jesus Fucking Christ What The Hell
Oh. Rude.
Dong?!?!?!?
Yes, Paul. Dong. There had better be dong.
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. I’M AT WORK
Stop yelling at me
Nana. What. Are. You. Talking. About.
Dong, Paul. At your bachelor party
Oh my god
Because there needs to be one
Oh my god
And I will be going to it
You texted me in the middle of the day about PENIS.
Yes. Yes, I did. JFC WTH =D
Nana
Yes, dear?
Are you asking me if there will be strippers
Not asking. Telling. There’s a difference Paul.
THERE WILL BE NO STRIPPERS
I found this link: www.tightbuns&bigguns.com
I’m not clicking that
Click it, Paul. You know you want to. Click it. Just a little
