My little girl's married. Sniff. I almost never write "sniff" unless I'm actually crying while I write it. Also, I don't write "ha ha" unless I'm actually laughing. So to all the people out there who think I use language lightly, ha ha. I mean what I say and I say what I mean. That's why I feel it's important to take to the airwaves to tell you that I approve of Jenna's husband, old what's his name.

He's so much better than Stretchy and Plump-Lips and Cow-Catcher and all the rest. There was one guy, though, who I really favored. She dated him in high school and I think he broke her hymen through intercourse, if you know what I mean. He was such a great kid that I didn't even mind. Tall, friendly, smart but not too. He kind of reminded me of myself. Wait. Now something creepy has crept into the paragraph. I just said that the guy who deflowered my baby lamb reminded me of myself. Ecch. It's a good thing I didn't speak impromptuliciously at the wedding.