After going to a wedding in the middle of nowhere last weekend that was literally less than a mile from Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch, I have officially had it with weddings. When I get married, it will be in my driveway and the reception will be in my garage. Sure my wife will be smoking hot and have a really hot twin sister that will drive me insane for the rest of my life, but at least I'll be courteous enough to give all of my guests a free puppy and yellow rubber dish gloves for taking the time to show up.

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