I just don’t get backrubs. I mean, I literally don’t receive them, and I also don’t understand them. I’m more of a scratch-my-back kind of guy. I usually like my head rubbed a little, and I like hugs. I also like my balls throated. But backrubs are lost on me.

So, we’re at this spa, me and the Mrs., and we’re gonna get, like, thirty backrubs. I just found out I have to shower beforehand. This all seems like a lot of goddam work. I’ll let you know how it works out.

As for the wedding, there is honestly nothing I can say, because to say any one thing is to say nowhere near enough. The best man lied in his best man speech when he said he would be nothing without us, because the truth is I am nothing without him, without me he’d still be awesome. I should write a blog about how I was direspectful to Jordana once early on, and it’s the only time Mac threatened to kick my ass. I’m not joking, he’s the best of us, truly the best man…

But then it goes from there, and I got nothing to say. So, I’m gonna take a shower, get my frickin’ *back* rubbed, fer the love of christ, and then see if I can get my balls shined.