A bride this stunning makes men weep.
The location was incomparable, so after much serious contemplation, I was the one yelling “Fore” on random back swings from the bushes.
A major highlight was my ticket to the pre-game festivities, where champagne and females were abundant. I got there extra early for obvious reasons.
When it comes to make-up application, nobody does it better than Holly Valentine. She went to work on everyone, including Rita’s sister Roxie.
I had never before witnessed the preparation involved behind the scenes. Envy in the eyes of other males was surely apparent, especially when empty bottles of Veuve Clicquot led to multiple walks through the field to retrieve another three bottles. Everyone was taking care of each other.
The best part was the encircling, everyone wanting to get a piece of last second make-up primping for the bride, a tradition well respected among most female clans. The final touches reached a frenzy many will reminisce about for years. Everyone was going to look their best.
The ceremony was planned to perfection, no detail overlooked. It also helps to have endless champagne and Chivas to loosen up the bride and Maid of Honor.
I've read that marriage is done for the purpose procreation and requires consummation. There are other obligations to consider, like in some wacky cultures women are required to bear many children. Roxie simply believes in the power of love.
The sheer energy and introspective words of the preacher brought shivers down my spine. The look in Rita’s eyes gazing into that of her love boldly moved the spectators.
That soon led to the rampage of congratulations for the bride, here seen with her business partner Alice.
Bernadette Bender was there too, willing to cause stirs with her unrequited desire to Bash.
It had been forever since I challenged her wits, one of the many things I treasure from such a close friend.
One of my favorite bartenders Danny was there, which was no surprise to anyone with half a pulse.
He later fell into some type of drunken wormhole of self-realization. He claimed that the only way to terminate a marriage is by death.
Roxie gave a very well-received speech during the beautiful reception, certainly one of the many high points.
No matter what type of wedding traditions a family may follow, you have to love the dances with the father.
I was stoked to see Uncle Bob there, who Bashed me into submission with perfectly targeted insults, the kind that are the truth.
He pointed out that the age of consent in 
Virtually on cue, they began doing a daring mash up of the Hyper Crush catalog, moving the crowd from verse to verse with purpose. To do it up right, I hit the dance floor to liven things, a typical reaction since I know how to shake it with the crew.
The absurd amount of stiff pours from behind the bar only made the situation more manic. Roxie and Holly made sure to elevate the excitement of the proceedings.
No matter where I went, from front to back, I was viciously attacked by females fueled by thoughts that maybe, just maybe one day, they'll have their day.
Before leaving, I made sure to have a permanent impact by passing along five volumes of “The Art of Bashing” to a promising young college student, one with potential to dominate.
Spreading subversive propaganda around suffices when a positive mood accommodates my passion for the greater good. I gladly pulled ripcord before things could get too out of hand. The fortune showered forth was enough inspiration to attack 
One female was particularly perturbed by our brash behavior, which surely bordered on amazing. Some hussies are easily scared and get inexplicably caught in the headlights. This one was caught off guard, but then became very friendly.
When they figure out the method and understand the threat, calmness closes them and happiness shines supreme. She also suggested that all marriages include a dowry. Her annoying friend was not impressed. Neither was I.
Amaury immediately led her away with the heavy lure of darts. That also led to Amaury belting out an unsolicited karaoke duet with an extra amorous female who had a head full of impromptu drunkenness.
All in all, I survived Rita's wedding and 
The anticipation was excruciating, clock hands moving slow for what seemed an eternity. Their union was met with much rejoice among the rare flowers and celestially flawless landscape. It was clear that the breathtaking scenery made us quickly forget that this was on the campus of Long Beach State.
I was shocked to see something of unmatched beauty at LBSU, but nothing was as beautiful as the bride.
Wayne Maxwell decided to pimp the event with his usual flair, even offering me $300 to dive onto the wedding cake. I passed on the deal.
When I asked him who he was targeting at the wedding he shrugged, then bluntly said while pointing, “It’s too easy mang.” The wayward groomsmen agreed.
It was great to see Mike, whose anticipation regarding the incoming wedding dress permeated from his demeanor deeply.
The Hoff was there without wig, and the incomparable Ronny was brilliant in his approach to add incredibly needed moral support.
The wedding photographer was a complete fraud, a joke of a human being, a pompously self-centered egomaniac that decided to show up an hour and a half late. What a jerk.
The brave ringbearer tried to calm Mike’s nerves, for intimidation was out of the question, and I know The Hoff was slipping him pulls of the Irish whisky flask.
Since this particular wedding dealt with a lot of consumption, The Detonator was cordially invited to attend.
I’ve always enjoyed having The Detonator at my side for debauched wedding adventures, and Roxie came along to Bash with the best.
The dinner choices were either filet mignon or fish. Raj and Roxie had the lasagna.
Nikki Carmichael got a kick out of us stumbling in from the lot, obviously in tune to what we were doing, what we were up to.
She looked very pretty in her maid of honor gear, stunning with her sway amongst the gawky revelers. Nikki and Pam have taken down proud scores over the many years I've known them.
Markswomen of their stature easily qualify as Bashers. Charm only goes so far, for it's truly the killer instinct that summons the highest rate of success. This is how Lara looked at me moments before I unceremoniously cut in on Fred.
I forget what I whispered in her ear during “What a Wonderful World,” probably because I was highly inebriated, but I recall her smiling and letting out her patented laugh, the real intoxicating one. This soon led to everybody dancing.
There was some quality hustling to be had, which is unavoidable for me when surrounded by spirited girls and “Brick House” blaring on the speakers. Sasha and Nikki are always spirited.
I found myself accidentally hitting on all the women, showing some moves while the full-court press went on cruise control. Sasha berated me for never calling her, sweating me over a truly unfortunate oversight.
I think she kind of forgave me as the night progressed and we mixed it up, but my only solution to her justifiable gripe is following up on a promise.
Casey ended up catching the garter, possibly a sign of things to come, although my two lifetime catches never amounted to anything more than a photo-op.
Later on, Casey’s aversion to anything dealing with matrimonial bliss culminated into a drunkenly accurate toss of the incriminating lingerie, landing squarely on top of Ronny’s sweaty fire pit.
