Hey guys,
First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to be part of the team. As groomsmen, you will have to stand around and smile for pictures during the “cocktail hour” after the ceremony while hors d’oeuvres and sparkling wine are being passed around. It’ll be, like, 8 p.m. on Friday at that point so you’ll be starving, but you’ll be lucky to get a nibble and a sip of that action — I speak from experience.
On the other hand, you’ll be paired up for dances and such with the bridesmaids. They’re a cute bunch, so that’s a plus. But most of them have big Newfoundland or British boyfriends, so don’t get fresh.
Also: I don’t want to see you falling-down loaded, smoking weed in the park across the street from the reception hall, mooning my fiancée’s friends and relatives, asking anyone to pull your finger, or anything like that. And no fireworks. No, no, I know you won’t. Sorry, didn’t mean to insult you. I just want to make sure we’re clear on the rules.
I had a serious request to make as well.
When I said I wanted to go on a trip to New Orleans — one of my favourite places — in 2011, I meant we should all go on a trip to New Orleans in 2011. Now I’ve heard a rumour you’re plotting to take me there for a bachelor’s weekend next spring. Very sweet of you. It sounds like the kind of stag weekend the fictional dudes in Esquire photo shoots go on (see articles like “Best stag destinations! Top 5 cities for bachelor’s weekends!” Etc.)
But I’m not one of those grilled-chicken-breast-eating, Italian-suit-wearing Esquire guys. You know the budget constraints I’m working with. I mean, I keep complaining about it.
That’s why I suggested renting a cottage or, at most, heading to Montreal. (I mentioned New York but I also took it back, remember?) New Orleans ’11 will still happen. I’ll show you gents around the French Quarter, we’ll have Mother’s ham biscuits and Sazeracs, those of you with Irish genes will sweat your guts out. It’ll be a hoot.
In the meantime, have we not proven we know how to have a blast here in Canada? (Literally, for fireworks are approved for use at the cottage.) Let’s settle on Molson Stock Ale and poutine. It’ll be fun. Hate to sound sappy, but the important part is us all hanging out together, you know?
Cheers,
Adam
P.S. No strippers!
Image of New Orleans courtesy of Adam McDowell.
