This weekend my friends Paul and Jen got married. It was an awesome wedding. Beforehand all the ladies had decided to try and keep it semi-respectable at the reception. That lasted roughly 30 seconds, and then someone took a pic of Steph's cleavage at the dinner table. At that point all bets were off. And just so Steph doesn't think I am singling her out, I'm pretty sure there are at least 2 pictures of my cleavage floating around somewhere. I mean just from Saturday-not in total. In total there are…well who knows how many. I have a drinking problem.
I'll quickly sum up the wedding. Number of…
Penises seen: 2
Men's shirts unbuttoned (by me): 7
Cranberry and vodkas drank (by me): lost count around 7
Pizzas ordered at 2am: 4
Girls Gordo made out with: 3
Times Gordo puked: Greater than or equal to 1
Giant speakers I almost knocked over: 1
Mints and toothpicks Jace stole from the hotel bar: approximately 300
Mints that ended up in my bra: approximately 15-20
Mints from my bra that Matt ate: 3
Times Kim got hit on: 7,453
Advil I took today: 7
All in all a fantastic wedding with fantastic stories. Some I can't write here because my mom reads this blog. Just kidding, Mom, I'll tell you later.
To Jen and Paul: good luck you guys! I hope you have a lifetime of happiness and that you take care of each other always and that Paul recovered from what had to be the most massive hangover known to man.
To my friends: you guys are awesome. I had an absolute blast hanging out with you guys. Thanks for being so sweet and caring and so much effing fun it's ridiculous. I love you guys. You're all hot.
And to the front desk lady who told us how to get to the IHOP this morning: may I just say you are an exceptional moron. There is no IHOP. I doubt there ever was one. But thanks a lot for the map that led us to the EMPTY FUCKING PARKING LOT. Much appreciated. It served great pancakes.
P.S. Some of the wedding guests were people who, shall we say, take life a little too seriously. Career is everything, having fun is irresponsible, heart attack at 28 years old, etc. You know the type—the ones who hate me. During a conversation about these people, Gerbs passed down his philosophy to us, and I want to pass it on to you because it is, in a word, awesome. He said, "You know, life is pretty much worthless if happy hour prices don't mean anything to you."
Amen, Gerbs. Amen.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Congratulations, Paul and Jen!
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8 comments:
I always wish I could do my wedding over. When I got married, I had no idea what the hell I was doing and my wife's grandmother planned it all. It was like a bad prom with grownups you didn't know. I'm glad you had fun!
Three? Holy crap dude. I remember the one (Emily, but she made out with everyone) but I totally don't remember the other two..(that doesn't mean you have to mention them here).
Also, I didn't puke, it was just dry heaves...
Classy, I know.
Excellent philosophy! It is also essential to know what days ladies nights are at different bars, so you can successfully drink for cheap each night.
Huh, I'd temporarily forgotten about my apparent quest for fresh breath. Lesson learned though, three spearmints at once is WAY too many.
Two penises shown at one wedding? Well, I've never... Hey, how can I get an invite to the next big event one of your friend thows?
Can I party with you? Really! I will even pay you!
Only 2 peni?? All I will say is - invite more Rugby players - they love to get naked... if it is later than 6pm - that means it's time to take off their uderwear! FUN!
Diane Mandy and Anti-Blogger, you're both in for the next wedding. Should be much of the same, but I'm hoping for more penises this time.
Heather, I know. We had a couple guys act like they were going to then pussed out. Lame!
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