Jeff had been my best friend since kindergarten, so it was no surprise to me when he asked me to be the best man at his wedding. On the appointed day, as we were getting
dressed for the ceremony, Jeff got a rather severe case of "cold feet". "I can't go through with it," he said.

"I'm nauseous, my stomach cramps, my knees are like spaghetti."

I said, "It's just PMS."

"PMS?" he asked.

"Yeah," I quipped, "Pre-Minister Syndrome"