(Wind is coming on, days getting dreary, and I’m thinkin’ this is the season that I leave you all)
I spent the weekend in Mankato (‘kato as I call it,) for a bachelor party.
Too bad the damn groom forgort to ask the bride for his balls for this one, last weekend.
Actually I take that back, I’m just a little bitter that our buddy (who’s getting married) couldn’t join us at the strip joint.
There was a day a couple years ago, that a bunch of us, guys, decided to attend this gentleman’s club and we came during someone else’s bachelor’s party.
Oh man, if you’re a guy and you’re getting married or if you know someone getting married, take ‘em over to the good ‘ole strip joint for good times and laughs. They put the groom on the stage and they make sure this guy is leaving bachelorhood with a bang… and a lot of ripped up clothes.
So we had this whole thing planned out (or at least I did) and we’re getting ready to send our buddy on over for the lap dance of a lifetime until he said,
“Sorry guys, I can’t go”
“WTF?” we shout.
“Guys, I promised my bride that I wouldn’t because she considers it cheating”.
We were as shocked as shocked could be.
My man’s a strong one to stick to that promise and god knows that I’d never agree to it, but at least tell us the struggle you had reaching that agreement!
I mean I know for a fact that if my future bride (pass the joint man) ever told me these guidelines, I would be in top-notch negotiation mode. Then if negotiations didn’t work the whining, kicking, screaming, bitching, complaining, moaning, crying (a manly cry btw), wimpering, and pouting would take place.
The ‘big guns’ if you will.
Then if that didn’t work, I’d just have to concede because I’d have given her every damn trick in the book. Then at the bachelors’ party, when it came time to attend the strip joint, I would just ‘tell it like it is’.
“Sorry guys, Kristen Davis says I can’t. I’M SORRY, I tried EVERYTHING I had, including offering to—ah nevermind. There’s nothing I can do. The only thing she’ll let me do is drink light beer and ‘beat off’ in the corner.”
And as the guys leave rolling their eyes and taking their disappointed breaths, I (and they) would know that I tried EVERYTHING.
Rest assured guys, I’ll make it happen!
Lots of crap today
1. People who use the word ‘phone’ as a verb
“Last night I phoned my neighbor.” GOD, SHUT UP! You ‘CALLED’ your neighbor. I picture someone being ‘phoned’ when they got their asses kicked within an inch of their lives with the ‘phone’ as the main weapon.
Orenthal talking to his buddy Al about the previous night.
Orenthal: Last night I just phoned the fuck outta a couple people. Seriously Al, get the Bronco warmed up, I need to get outta here or else I’ll come over and phone you good!
Granted it is grammatically acceptable to use it as a verb, but it doesn’t mean you gotta say it that way.
2. My Mom’s idea of Christmas
My mom came up with this retarded idea that this Christmas we’ll just do the Secret Santa thing. (Sigh)
Secret Santa is when you draw names out of a hat and whomever’s name you draw, you buy a gift for that person, hence the name Secret Santa.
This Secret Santa/gift exchange is great for friends, coworkers, and entire family get-togethers but not for us (Tim, Tom, Dad&Mom) primery family members. She claims she wants it this way because she’s sick of buying presents that we don’t want/use.
There’s a simple solution to that enigma and I’ll be careful with this…
Buy us a gift that we WILL want/use.
Now, I don’t believe that I am high maintenance at all. I don’t expect someone to go out and spent $100 let alone a dime on me because it’s all about the holidays. I appreaciate the gesture because I certainly didn’t need the gift.
But if one is going to give me a gift, please put a little thought into it.
For instance, one year I received a ‘sponge holder’ for Christmas.
I will wait, and let you read that again. Now absorb that last sentence.
It was wrapped up and everything. How the hell does one act when they open a sponge holder for Christmas?
“How nice it's a-oOHhhh I got a--What the crap is this?”
Then there was the ‘Computa-saurus’ T-shirt I received when I was 19, which my mom used to sell at her former employer.
I mean dog gamn! It shouldn’t be this hard! Target sells a ton of crap; get me a freakin Target card instead of the ‘I love Webster’ Medium T-shirt. What does Target have that I don’t want? Uh, besides a sponge holder.
3. Hot Bartenders
I came across this bar with this unbelievable bar tender. Naturally, I felt like buying a beer and staying for a little bit. The hard thing is—well, the other hard thing is leaving the damn bar. Why couldn’t they just put some woman that got ‘phoned’ the other night, who’s sportin’ 3 black eyes, and hates the world all behind the bar?
That way I could actually control my drinking.
4. Relatives with their strange comments.
Did I ever tell ya that I’m a cook? For Thanksgiving I was in charge of the rolls, just throw ‘em in the oven until they’re hot.
So my uncle says, in the suggestive tone,
“Do you need any help buttering up those buns?”
For which I wasn’t ready for. However, I go play along,
“Ah yes, why don’t you help me butter my buns?” Because I figure it’s a matter of whom can gross out whom the most.
Apparently I won because my uncle wasn’t ready for that comment and because he had this freaked out look on his face to which he then proceeded to talk about guns and women.
oh by the way, H you would be proud of me. I had one 'blazin' wing at BWIII's this weekend!!! I don't need the skirt anymore!