So last night was a wedding. While I missed the ceremony due to other commitments I did not however miss the reception. And what a reception it was. The plethora of hot women was grossly offset by the fact that they were all taken. The bride looked beautiful, but then again, when don’t brides look beautiful? Well, I guess if you’re a fat ugly girl there’s little to no chance of you looking beautiful on your wedding night. So, sucks to be a fat ugly girl, luckily, this was not the case.
Anyhow, the wedding was for a couple of people we bowled with last year and they invited a bunch of people from the league. Now, I know I’ve spoke of this league before as it is my annual drinking league in which we all get cruises or trips to Vegas. It’s a fun league and a very, very, active beer league. Anyhow, what this is leading is the debauchery that went down. First of all they placed the three tables of league people right up next to the bar. Smart couple they are… I think they’re gonna make. Lucky kids.
So we all realize that hey, we’re all here, let the shenanigans begin. I got up to the bar and noticed that the scotch on hand was not Lauders, or Cutty Sark, but in fact Dewar’s White Label (I still maintain that Dewar’s is pronounced DeWHAR’s, not dooers). Not top shelf, but not J&B either. So, I order scotch, rocks. And I’m pretty sure by the end of the night I had finished the bottle. I know I was the only one drinking off the bottle as it was easy to note my progress every time he poured me a glass. I’m pretty sure he emptied the bottle on me at last call. Then, I’m pretty sure he gave me a pitcher of beer. I only say pretty sure because by this time I start only having vague recollections. I know I stole a centerpiece because it was a giant, and I mean GIANT, margarita glass. I know I poured said pitcher of beer into said giant margarita glass and somehow wound up with a crazy straw hat and novelty oversized sunglasses on my personage while walking around drinking beer from a giant glass.
So we were all up at the bar at various (read: most) times and we started doing shots. Oh, shots. How we love thee. Anyhow, for some reason the groom and best man (twin brothers) seemed to love to do shots of Captain. This is not a shooting rum. I did a couple with them before telling the bartender that I would in fact be drinking shots of John Daniels. I believe that someone asked in horror after the first Captain shot, if I was indeed chasing that shot with straight scotch. I replied in the affirmative and Joe C. heard me say this, so when I followed up a shot of jack with, “ahh yes, a shot of jack and a scotch chaser” so as to, you know, make myself look like a better drunk than the rest of the drunks, Joe C. promptly called me out with, “wow, that’s the fourth time I’ve heard that tonight”. It was the second by the way, and the first was said about Captain, not Jack. Ass.
So after many, many more shots it was time to leave. I was so drunk at this point that I actually turned down a trip to the bar. It was only midnight or so, but I knew well enough that I was well enough. Got home, grabbed a beer, made some sausage and proceeded to pass the fuck out. I woke up at 5 am with 5 missed calls and as many voice mails and some shit show on W.E. about some ass couple renewing their vows. Maybe I’m old school, but I would think vows aren’t something you need to renew. They’re not a license plate, they’re promises. So you’re going to re-promise a promise? Why not just keep the original fucking promise you assheads! Don’t make a promise you don’t intend to keep then re-promise the same fucking promises you broke you dipshits. The show sent me into a half passed out drunken rage so I turned it off, listened to voicemails, returned some calls, at 5:30 in the AM. Yeah, I’m that guy. Then went to bed and passed out again. I love weddings.