Quick one. I made 
When someone says Guinea pig, the first stop our imagination does not drop us off at is the neighborhood pet store. Watch.
Guinea pig.
They sample the entrée. Who else is gonna tell you it tastes like shit? They jump in the pool first and then Lie Out Loud, "feels great!" First to rock a mohawk or sit in the chair first on matching tattoo date night—Guinea pig.
I have to work with these people.
Said my wife who then proceeded to tell me she warned her colleagues that I'm, quote, prickly and have no filter, end quote, when she told me there's a gerbil in the wedding party and I about lost my shit like O.F. YES!
I'm bringing the GoPro.
It's not a gerbil! It's a Guinea pig and, no, you will not bring the GoPro. I have to work with these people. Do not bring any unwanted attention to me.
It's not often she breaks me off with a rule book like that. I snuck in a couple shots with my phone only because I had a good view and said I was taking them for the bride whom I'd like to mention I did offer to send copies if anyone asks. But, no GoPro, I was warned. And absolutely, most definitely, no documenting the ceremony. She was adamant about that.
If there's one thing I'm good at, it's not getting caught telling you what I'm good at.
Now then, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, it is with pleasure to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Coulston Bridges, Piggyanna Jones the bridesmaid, and a photobomb I still haven't stopped looking over my shoulder for.
