A month before his wedding, my son took 15 of his best friends on a bachelor party trip that included surfing in San Diego and at least one day trip to Tijuana.
Recently, I got a new taste for what they mean by Sweet Home Chicago.
Fucking weddings have gotten even more complicated. Now you have to have a website with invitations, RSVP’s, maps, shit to do, the mandatory shopping lists (registry) and the obligatory “Our Story.”
Somehow it became my job to review my son’s website and send him feedback and corrections (thanks to the project management skills of the wife). Mostly around “Our Story,” because his story is not as good as his cousin’s (who just got married Sept. 29).