Krugers, Drinking, Breathalyzers, and Sex

and to think, I bitched (a lot) about going to this wedding!

Rolled in Friday night around 1:00am and knew exactly where to find everyone else – at the bar, of course. I was a little worried when there were only three other friends I knew from college, the best man and two ushers, but sucked it up and washed a couple little blues down with some whisky and caught up with the mostly unknown group. The next day, the three college friends and I opted out of getting wasted (since the pastor threatened us with our lives if we drank) and instead, spent time taking in some local attractions. Even aside from my three Xanax self-medication, I was astonished by how carefree the day with them was. **(And with that, I would like to add that I’m both pissed and intensely jealous. It’s total bullshit that a groom's wedding party is allowed a relaxing day and those in any way associated with the bridal party endure a grueling and overburdened day. Assholes.)

The wedding was quick and I memorable. Immediately following the ceremony, everyone hit the nearest bar for a couple shots before heading to reception, which, by the way, was at the fucking hockey arena (Hockeytown, USA, just like I told you). The ushers and I, however, saw no need to hurry and enjoyed $1.50 Krugers. (A Kruger, named after the best man, who introduced us to the drink, contains gin, ginger ale, and slice of both lemon and lime… and is fucking awesome.)

Breathalyzer's long story, short: Before the dance, the guys wanted to steal the bride and I was designated to drive. A cock-sucking ass of a cop saw me pulling out of the arena's parking lot with seven groomsmen in toe – four in back, two in front, one in the trunk. Needless to say, I got pulled over while turning into the bar's parking lot. By the grace of the Holy One (and two turkey sandwiches), I passed my breathalyzer and by the stupidity of my own, told the officer what a royal jerk I thought he was to the line of, "I mean, what kind of fuckass pulls over a wedding party?!?" In an abnomal twist of good fortune, I was not ticket for my insolence.

TBC’s right in his comment, I should get cock for laying down that kind of money and as we all know, there's no easier place to get it than at a wedding. What good is it even going if you can't go down on a guy in a tux... or a nice shirt... or the homeless dude not wearing any pants?!?

Good friends, cheap liqour, par excellence piece of ass, sans any legal altercations equates to a weekend well worth the money.


PS: I can't get pictures to show up on my blog anymore, am I doing something wrong?!