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Let's see, it's been roughly 72 hours now right? Is the honeymoon over?
Poor miserable bastard you have no idea what you're in for.
Say goodbye to sex, a wasteline, hairline, fun, whiskey & beer, steak, football, your balls, your opinion, your self confidence, damn near every straight friend you had, golf, your baseball card collection, your porn collection, care-free apartment life, your truck with the bitchin sound system, your favorite pair of jeans (no way in hell she lets you wear them again), Saturday afternoon naps, Action Movies, your closet and last but certainly not least, Felatio.
Say hello to the vacuum cleaner, Pledge, Rosey Palm, insecurity, wine & champagne spritzers, salad, the ballet, Cunnilinges (not because you want to), shopping, agony, your mother-in-law, defeat, bitching, the female menstraul cycle, Antiquing, B&B's, nodding your head to the inane mumbling and squabbling coming from her mouth, honey-do's, a minivan, a house payment, Saturday afternoon housecleaning, Romantic Comedies, lay-a-way, Christmas shopping for some woman you don't even know and are fairly certain she doesn't even like and last but not least the crushing credit card debt that accompanies her wardrobe.
Best of luck, you kids will do great and to you on your honeymoon I dedicate this beautiful song by Billy Joel: "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant".
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