Groomsmen 'R' Us by Mr. Pineapple

The ladies have already been properly introduced, so it's time to give a little of the spotlight (I promise, you can have it back in no time, flat) to the guys that will be joining us and serving as the lead for the bridesmaid eye-candy. That statement's not nearly macho enough. Hm

Um... beer... poker... football... Scotch! There, that should do it. Here's to the guys whom I know will be more than happy to keep my glass full while the game's on and we're playing some cards. One slight modification will be made for the whole chronological intro vibe. Also, I'm using nicknames only... not only is anonymity super, these are also more fun than their real monikers.

{DS doing something scary to our cat Harrison top left, all other photos DS being weird/himself :) }

Demonspawn (aka, my best man):

When I proposed to Miss P, I wondered if the Commonwealth would put out a warrant for me because, well, it frowns on bigamy (I'm not for it, either). And, by all records, our dear friend DS fulfilled everything a Common Law Husband could be - we had lived together for the better part of eight years, all starting in our residence hall days. We've long-since learned to go beyond completing each other's sentences - we just make the most random associations and speak on them before asking if it makes sense. It always turns out to make sense (though generally just for the two of us). We've known each other since high school (where he laughed while watching some woman punch me in the head) and have shared more over the years than either one of us could've predicted since the day we simultaneously pushed our worrying mothers out of the room on freshman move-in day. When a guy's okay with getting kicked in the head after drunkenly playing frisbee at 3am, you know he's good people. So good, in fact, that Miss P and I kinda sorta adopted him for six months when all three of us shared a happy home (with too. many. cats.).

{photos 1 & 2 source: Weddings to go Key West, photo 3 AC and P-funk in college}

P-funk (aka, that guy Emily hears me talk about):

This guy and I were so close in high school and college that my parents basically adopted him - to this day, he refers to my mom as "Mama". We have weathered many a storm over the years, including a night Phil and I had too many drinks in too short a time and launched those miniature-fall-deco-pumpkins at the mysterious frat guys across the street. We haven't been able to connect for some of the times he returns to PA, so it'll be only a month before the wedding when Miss P discovers that the man she describes as "the guy from North Carolina who has a wife who sounds really fun" truly exists.

AC (aka, the man we support with our hard-earned tax dollars):

The legend of the AC is epic. This Brazilian transplant took our college community by storm, leaving countless barrels of Yuengling (his beverage of choice), scraps from Primanti's sandwiches, and worn-out copies of The Big Lebowski in his wake. A kind and honest friend, he is the smartest economist I know (not counting his adoptive parents and our good friends, the J's - both P.h. D faculty from our undergrad days). He is also the most blunt indicator of those people spewing irrational BS... a very nice resource to have around.

When Miss P passed the AC test on a random New Years Eve holiday weekend, I knew our relationship had potential. It was clear that she wasn't (too far) out of her element when she could tolerate me, DS, and the AC for four straight days of tangential movie references, greasy food and, well, the sometimes unpleasant consequences of three guys with greasy food at their disposal.

The Badger (aka, part of the musical entertainment at this little party we're throwing):

I met Badger in the fall of 2004 through his fiance at the time (and now his wonderful wife of nearly three years) who was in my graduate program. We liked beer (who doesn't?), food (he's a better cook than I am), and music (he and his friends play very, very well, I listen and make ridiculous and unrelenting requests for Journey's Greatest Hits).

Everything kicked into another gear, however, when Badger, Condor (his wife), and The Janitor (an awesome guy from their high school days) invited me to to join their curling team. That's right, curling. It's fantastic if you're playing, but Miss P tells me it's depressingly boring to watch rinkside. We had so much fun that we developed the nicknames you see here and developed aspirations of making a run at the Olympics. Sadly, our team soon disintegrated after the season. The Janitor moved to South Carolina for a great job, Condor went and got pregnant (their daughter is now a year old and wonderful n'@), but our friendship has lasted without the Teflon slip-on shoes (stylin'). Our shared obsession for pro- and college-football fantasy leagues is sure to torture our brides for years to come.

{Spider-Man out and about with us, Spider-Man and Miss P. with Cowboy Troy and Rich from Big and Rich, Spider-Man dancing and singing with Garfield hehe, Miss P. and Spider-Man while he was um... being Spider-Man}

Spider-Man (aka, the guy that makes liking country music okay):

Spidey is Miss P's favorite line dancing partner guy, and an even better friend to us both. They met at the local Rock-n-Country Saloon and apparently were good friends straight away, and it's easy to understand why. Ready to do anything for you even if you only just met, he's an extremely talented actor in the musical-theater scene and probably the hardest-working guy my age that I know. He makes going to the aforementioned saloon and country shows even better, and he's always good for a spot-on impression and a laugh. I'm looking forward to his MC performance at the wedding - he'll guarantee we all have a good time.

How do you know the groomsmen in your wedding? Do you know them?

Common Sense for the Committed by Mr. Pineapple

First, let's just get this out of the way. I already get a lot of grief from my friends (and the Best Man is consistently first in line, daily) for being known as Mr. Pineapple. And, while it's certainly nothing I'll be inviting my softball teammates to use when listing me in the weekly lineup, I'm happy to be a (very small) part of this community and thankful for all that it's given to Miss P.

So, why am I taking a chance writing in this space where I am clearly not the target market? Easy. The target market (you) has a common interest/love/problem of a fiance, significant other, or emergency date for a friend's wedding. I fall in that category, and I have made some very stupid (albeit generally innocent enough) mistakes in the last eight-ish months of wedding planning. Your other half shouldn't say those things. And, while context is king (and/or queen) in all relationships, there are probably a few lessons learned in the Pineapple household that can help out anyone.

1. The light's always right.
Miss P is the dedicated designer of all print media associated with our nuptials. One day, during our bus ride home, she wanted to show me the proofs. I thought it best to wait until we got home where we'd have a nice, big dining room table to spread out the cards and plenty of light. I was wrong. It doesn't matter where you are, dummy. Just say yes. I'll give you (and me) the benefit of the doubt, here - you're excited about all of this to some degree, even it's just because she's excited. So, say yes. And be careful not to drop those proofs on the floor.

2. Knowing she's the expert isn't enough.
I have the privilege of being engaged to a designer, and a damn good one at that. She's also a photographer. So, when someone like that (or her other photography/design kin) is asking for my input, it's easy to feel like an idiot (I've become used to it in all facets of my life, not just in these interactions). "I'm the only one in the room who's not a photographer, so just tell me where to stand and I'll do it," is a remarkably self-aware and cooperative statement, don't you think? Well, try harder. A couple of suggestions here and there go a long way, even if you know bridesmaids, family, and other friends are better at all of this. Be a springboard for her brainstorming. You may even find a detail or concept that is really important to you. I wholeheartedly trust all of her ideas/decisions about the decor, the invites, all of it. She trusts that my differing opinion or other suggestion(s) show a bigger investment in the end product. So, win-win.

3. Filter your pie hole, Pie Hole.
Inertia. It's a law of physics. The first law. It happens. Even in wedding planning. Learn to handle it. Your timeline, assuming it's more than the "Hey, this happy hour was great; let's get married in twenty at the MGM Grand Chapel" version, is going to have periods of a lot of planning and other periods that are slower. There will be waiting. There will be time to be patient and thankful that there are weeks when a payment isn't due, a coordinator doesn't need to be called, and a hotel doesn't need to hear from you. Trust in that fact.

Trust in it, dear reader, so steadfastly that the words "Can we not talk about weddings for one night?" never ever ever cross your lips. It won't matter how bad your day (week, month, etc.) has been at work. It won't matter that your friendly bus driver has been replaced by a mongoose with a Red Bull IV and a love for demo derby. And your witchy next door neighbor with a strange attachment to that specific on-street parking spot doesn't count, either. None of those reasons will do. So don't say it. Some days, The Wedding will develop a mind of its own, and it will control her. Some days, though she won't admit this for years, she'll have Wedding Fever. It's like Buck Fever in the corners of the world (like Western PA) where deer hunting is king. Guys with Buck Fever will shoot a rifle (a rifle!) at their best friend if they get too obsessed (and his buddy mistakingly leaves the Blaze Orange jumpsuit in the truck). Be thankful she's only shooting questions, photos, and other wedding-theme-colored paraphernalia in your direction. The bullets will only start flying if you say something stupid.

As much as I've just rambled, the three core lessons in there are clutch. It won't take much to show her that you care, but that little bit will show a lot. And, if you step back from it, she probably pretends to care about random sporting events and fantasy leagues more than you realize. To your advantage, you're not pretending. Just be smart about it.