You Must Die, I Alone Am Best...
I was going to spend a lot of time and energy writing another rhyming journal but I'm way too fuckin tired for that at the moment. Shortened commentary: Tim H, your phone call was grand although I hear you didn't have a mountain of bitches like you were hoping for. Sarah, stop dwelling on the past because seriously no one cares even if we joke about it. If someone actually still cares about that they're being retarded and sweatin' some insignificant shit. Even if we joke about it, thats it, its just a joke. I mean come on, what if I got mad every time someone said my mom had huge tits? There would be a long trail of dead men across the country.
As for my weekend; my cousin got married at Mountain Lake, Viriginia. Apparently that's where they filmed part of Dirty Dancing and it was beautiful. The first full night we stayed there we had his "bachelor party". Now my cousin has always been a total dork, but a lovable one at that. He's 24 now and moving to Wisconsin for a year with his wife. You get the idea. It was completely tame, his father was his best man so it's not like he'd hire a stripper... that'd be weird. We went to a single A baseball game where the Avalanche lost 10-1, but almost got into a fight. The 3rd base coach practically took on their entire team, and his last name was perfect: DeJesus. Nobody fucks with DeJesus. After the game was over we went to a bar called the Hokie House, which I'm sure Steve knows about. It was pretty sweet I'd have to say, minus the fact that I had to stay sober... fuckin A. After we got him blindingly drunk, we took him back to the hotel where he passed out. Or so we thought. At 4 in the morning, the motherfucker walks into my room (same hotel room, I was on the pullout couch) and PISSES ON MY NIGHTSTAND! And it wasn't even like he realized what he was doing and stopped, he let an entire bladder's worth of alcohol go all over the lamp! Now THAT shit was hysterical... until I had to mop it up with my brother's shirt that is. The next day we had a rehearsal dinner and me and my brother kicked back with a 20 pack of Killian's and chilled with the other members of the wedding party. Last night was absolutely crucial. I drank 2 bottles of wine at the reception and danced with a 23 year old NEUROSCIENTIST FROM HARVARD. Damn right! She was fine as shit too, it's still way up there on my list of very impressive things I've done. Everything about this weekend more or less kicked ass.
MRob, if you still read this: consider this a peace offering. It's not like I'd never forgive you, I'm just a stubborn motherfucker when it comes to my friends. How's about we chill sometime again?
For all the rest of you negroids; good luck graduating tonight, or watching people graduate, or doing nothing at all. I plan on getting toasted and/or playing an instrument. Who's down? (You can generalize that last statement from "tonight" to "any night this summer")
I hope "CF" was a success, but lord knows ain't no party like an FDR party cuz an FDR party dont stop. At least until someone's naked and it's not Nick.
As for my weekend; my cousin got married at Mountain Lake, Viriginia. Apparently that's where they filmed part of Dirty Dancing and it was beautiful. The first full night we stayed there we had his "bachelor party". Now my cousin has always been a total dork, but a lovable one at that. He's 24 now and moving to Wisconsin for a year with his wife. You get the idea. It was completely tame, his father was his best man so it's not like he'd hire a stripper... that'd be weird. We went to a single A baseball game where the Avalanche lost 10-1, but almost got into a fight. The 3rd base coach practically took on their entire team, and his last name was perfect: DeJesus. Nobody fucks with DeJesus. After the game was over we went to a bar called the Hokie House, which I'm sure Steve knows about. It was pretty sweet I'd have to say, minus the fact that I had to stay sober... fuckin A. After we got him blindingly drunk, we took him back to the hotel where he passed out. Or so we thought. At 4 in the morning, the motherfucker walks into my room (same hotel room, I was on the pullout couch) and PISSES ON MY NIGHTSTAND! And it wasn't even like he realized what he was doing and stopped, he let an entire bladder's worth of alcohol go all over the lamp! Now THAT shit was hysterical... until I had to mop it up with my brother's shirt that is. The next day we had a rehearsal dinner and me and my brother kicked back with a 20 pack of Killian's and chilled with the other members of the wedding party. Last night was absolutely crucial. I drank 2 bottles of wine at the reception and danced with a 23 year old NEUROSCIENTIST FROM HARVARD. Damn right! She was fine as shit too, it's still way up there on my list of very impressive things I've done. Everything about this weekend more or less kicked ass.
MRob, if you still read this: consider this a peace offering. It's not like I'd never forgive you, I'm just a stubborn motherfucker when it comes to my friends. How's about we chill sometime again?
For all the rest of you negroids; good luck graduating tonight, or watching people graduate, or doing nothing at all. I plan on getting toasted and/or playing an instrument. Who's down? (You can generalize that last statement from "tonight" to "any night this summer")
I hope "CF" was a success, but lord knows ain't no party like an FDR party cuz an FDR party dont stop. At least until someone's naked and it's not Nick.