Remember in the movie Wedding Date when single-girl anxiety causes Debra Messing to hire a male escort, Dermot Mulroney, to pose as her boyfriend at her sister's wedding? Well that's kind of what I'm doing. Except I'm not a girl. And Amelia isn't a male escort. And it's not my sister's wedding. But fuck it. Other than that, this is EXACTLY like Wedding Date.
Unfortunately, all of the other candidates had fatal flaws: Teddy is a dude. John is (presumably) a dude. Pete was mean to me in a pre-4th of July email chain. Teddy's bitch is, well, TEDDY's bitch.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Hold the phone, ridiculously hot bro, I thought we got to vote for the winner!" Well, guys, this is how the voting turned out:
Let's put Douchebag Pete's overwhelming vote count in these terms — Douchebag Pete is the guy who takes the first swing at a pinata and breaks it just so no one else can swing at it. Douchebag Pete is the guy who you buy a shot for, then immediately takes it and walks away. Douchebag Pete doesn't play out tennis points - he just tries to ace you and doesn't care how many times he double faults. Douchebag Pete is essentially Steve Stifler. Sometimes after Douchebag Pete leaves parties, I say, "I hate Douchebag Pete" in the same voice as the girl from Love Actually. You're lying to yourself if you think Douchebag Pete didn't stuff the ballot box.
But hey, if George W. Bush can win a presidency without winning the popular vote, then my internet-boo can take down the Sunday Scaries Plus-One Crown despite Douchebag Pete's vote-flooding. I mean, the Pakistani dude who Photoshopped the above photo didn't even have to change Amelia's hair color to match Debra Messing's. THAT's how perfect this is.
Amelia, let me tell you the plan for Orlando. You, me, beers, champagne, buzzed, me: drunk, you: hot, wedding, smiles, sunglasses, football game, Michigan-Indiana, slaughter, quick nap at the hotel, then we hit the reception where we proceed to dance to "I Want You Back", tell everyone the wild story of how our relationship came to fruition, and fall madly in love pre-blackout. And that's a strict fucking schedule, Amelia. Write that shit down. Put that shit in your day planner. Write it on your hand. Just do whatever you have to do to not stray from the itinerary.
"Hey, Studly McStudson, aren't you forgetting something? What are you going to do about Amelia's $5,000 travel expenses?" Well, I'm still taking donations. Is the running donation total $0? Yeah. Does that worry me? Hell no. "Love takes time." - Mariah Carey.