Do you [Jake, Erica, John, Heather, Tom and Bob] take this man or woman to be your awfully wedded whatever, to have and to scold from this day forward; for better or worse, but it sure as hell better be better; for richer, for slightly but not noticeably poorer and even then only until after grad school; forget sickness, only in health; to loathe and to cherish simultaneously; till suspicious death do you part, so help you Zog? Just say “Yes”. Only heathens say, “I do.” Then by the powers vested in us by the Abiding Dude, we now pronounce you married. You may kiss, or roll your eyes at each other. Probably both. After the reception, you may also defile each other clumsily and briefly in the Lord’s anointed way in a suite at The Little America. And that, is how babies are made.