Two days before my wedding, my friends got me drunk. When we got up the next day, I was still drunk. Rockin’ the shades, we arrived from the hotel to the house, where I got the wrath. Apparently, we were late for a family outing to San Juan Capistrano, an event that my mother had said was cancelled. So, the entire day before the wedding, I was “the asshole” and my friends were forever flagged as co-assholes, never allowed to be around me ever again.

The day of the wedding, it was windy. There was a harpist; I’m pretty sure she was playing Run To The Hills by Judas Priest and I should have listened, but I couldn’t hear a note. I was really nervous. Pictures of me revealed it. This was the beginning of an 11 year bad idea.

Plus side: I got two amazing daughters out of this and wouldn’t trade even one microsecond of freedom from the misery I endured for them. They are totally worth it!