Oh, that Ryan. You mean Sideshow Bob. For some reason, I thought Trista chose that one guy, Johnny Anyman, and that's who she decided to marry. We're in what I'll guess is Trista and Ryan's Los Angeles domicile, a cluttered (well, all those cameras, in and out, all the time) apartment that looks like it's east of Hollywood and north of everything, allowing them to lie their way into saying they live in the Hills when they're talking to people who have never been to California. Entirely in baby voice, Trista and Ryan banter about a peanut butter sandwich, culminating in Trista's asking if Ryan's ready to meet Mindy. Ryan retorts, "I will be after I eat this sandwich." Right. Johnny Anyman will be ready in a Jif.
"There's a lot of irony in the whole wedding thing," Ryan tells us. Let's continue on and see exactly what Ryan's perception of "irony" is: "It's this great union, but at the same time, planning it all is a real test of each other's compatibility." Hey, that's not bad! Here boy, have some peanut butter. Put some on his nose and watch him lick it off. Awwww, cute! Good boy.
Some extremely indeterminate time later in an ambiguous locale we'll just call "Wedding Plans Heaven," Trista and Ryan meet with Mindy. She's wearing a peenk top, which she wore on purpose, I'll bet (I'm sure we'll learn for sure during the four-part special, The Making of Trista & Ryan's Wedding, coming to ABC in exactly three weeks), and Trista takes the bait and notes that Mindy is wearing Trista's "favorite color." Ryan gives her an overly familiar "SAVE ME, PLEASE" hug, and we cut to Mindy in a confessional, telling us that she's set up "this incredible team of designers" to guide the couple through the whole process. Mindy tells them, "Everything you've heard about wedding planning..." before discarding the finalizing clause and going with the more egalitarian, "We're going to have so much fun." I've never heard anything about professional wedding planning, so I'm not sure what she was going to say. And I'm sure it's true that planning a wedding is hard. Unless you have unfettered access to exactly one trillion dollars of Disney's corporate coffers. Then? It's as easy as making a peanut-butter sandwich, though the producers are still going out of their way to convince us that it's as hard as correctly pronouncing the word "pink." Soft "I." Not hard "E." Look to the schwa, Trista. Look to the schwa.
We're at a place the awnings tell us is called "Mark's Garden." Trista tells us that she's expecting to be "blown away" by the arrangements, and indeed they are rather fetching, in a peenk kind of way. We meet the Mark, and Mindy confessionalizes that Mark has been part of some lavish celebrity weddings, from (please don't please don't please don't) Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards to Adam Sandler. Good god, man. When did the name "Adam Sandler" become synonymous with the apex of celebrity elegance? I would stop to ponder this question further, but just then there's a massive earthquake in Los Angeles as a result of the fault lines buckling under the pressure of all these names dropping from such an extreme height.