Weekly Drunk Text: Good times good times I had 1 boner so far -Steve O
(Kc is going to four weddings this summer. He finds them to be incredibly adventurous, dangerous and hilarious. Watching his friends submit to the old ball and chain is tough, but the booze helps.)
When you're as old as me, most of your friends throw away their beer bongs, retire their whaling harpoons and decide they want to bang the same person for the rest of their life. People in the Midwest get married early, sometimes even before their 40th birthday. Crazy, I know. This summer I've been invited to about 10 weddings. Minnesota nuptials are the best because they usually involve a 2-hour drive, 30 minutes of church and 15 hours of full-contact drinking. In the past I've been covered in beer, romanced by a 62-year-old GIWNWTF (Grandmother I Would Not Want To – you get the point) and nearly stabbed to death by my friend's dad – seriously, ask Scooter.
Wedding #1 – Monte's Revenge
Apparently you're supposed to barf on your wife on your wedding night.
Last weekend, Tito, my former swim teammate and roommate, decided to marry. Weddings reunite The Kids – which is why I go – because going stag is not nearly as cool as Vince Vaughn would have you believe.
Tito's nuptials were in Montevideo, MN (Monte if you're local), where he's a famous cattle rancher. It's a legendary city of Red Angus beef, golden beers and the drinkingest people the world may ever know. Last time I partied in Monte, I spent $250 on $2 Coors Lights, swapped clothes in a bar, and nearly died of alcohol poisoning. The maiden voyage of Deez Nupts 2008 starts with a story that can only be titled: "Monte's Revenge."
DAY 1
I skip work early on Friday because I hate my job so much I'd rather be at the airport, even though CNN blasts some Wolf Blitzer crap. The newspaper store pumps MSNBC. Ridiculously, next door Fox Sports Bar relentlessly screeches. It's like three idiots trying to be the loudest.
I consider throwing something at the flatscreens, but there are too many. Beers cost $8. Gigantic roller suitcases (that are obviously too big to be carry-on items) crush my feet. My flight is an hour and a half late. Kill me.
My plane hits a tornado. I'm lifted out of my seat. If we're going down in flames, I'll totally make out with the girl next to me. But now, I sleep.
Now I'm in Minneapolis. Sterny and L-Hawk pick me up (an engaged couple, male and female respectively). We drive straight to a bar and commence drinking Hamm's, which is like PBR's red-headed, leprous stepbrother. About 80% of Minnesota girls are gorgeous, drinking beer and wearing T-shirts. Plus they're all blonde. This place rules.
Steve-O shows up with Special Ladyfriend who drunkenly dumped him last week because he said he doesn't like Mexican food. I like her.
At the Tavern on Grand, we take shots then play a dice game nobody but Sterny understands. L-Hawk passes out and we laugh as she slurs insults. The bartender asks us politely to leave, and we leave – politely. Everybody in Minnesota is so polite.
Special Ladyfriend invites us to her apartment, which is across the street and stocked with booze. She lets us shotgun multiple beers and then piss off her deck. Steve-O scored huge with her. Everybody sleeps and I pass out on the floor.
DAY 2
L-Hawk kicks me awake for breakfast. In the Land of Lakes, they serve Bloody Marys with a shot of beer. Everybody is an alcoholic here. We drive to the house they own. I forgot outside of NYC people don't rent from slumlords.
The road trip starts. Sterny and I bullshit while his fiancé sleeps. The only exchange I remember is:
STERNY: I'd join the Army, but I couldn't kill someone.
KC: I'd kill people all day. I just couldn't handle the heat.
L-Hawk thinks it's a two-hour drive. A mere three and a half hours later we arrive. I barely have time to shower in Milhouse's room before the ceremony.
We cruise to the church. None of the holy water starts boiling. Phew.
During the ceremony Tito and Wife rope their wrists together to signify "Tying The Knot." Tito later explained that he wanted to lasso his bride then bind her hands and feet like a rodeo calf. We laugh. Wife doesn't.
After church (which is thankfully short) The Kids meet at the hotel to drink. We're all in our upper 20s and seldom see each other, so we stuff 180 days worth of fun into one night. Believe me, we succeed.
Around The Kids we cease to be lawyers, doctors and completely unimportant magazine editors, but regress into our 19-year-old selves. We become MFNS, Milhouse, Scooter, Li'l Baby, Anemic Dave and kc (I never got a stupid nickname).
Our favorite thing to do is relive our dumbest, drunkest and debaucherous deeds. Or, try to create new memories (which is tough since we're shitbombed).
During Storytime, we hear my stupid past: Free-Man, Syph-Dog or the Pancake Story. Then the legend of Milhouse (actually, Doctor Milhouse now). His wife hears how her hubby asked a girl out while she was barfing, roomed with a convicted killer while in jail, and needed his date to cut his meat for him. Unmoved, she explains his new thing is getting lost in their house and peeing on things.
Before dark, all the old swimmers drop our pants for photos. Years ago, I was a collegiate swimmer and tattooed our mascot (a Jackrabbit) on my ass. My friends were stupid enough to go along. Our asses are still hilarious. At least, to us. Tito's new in-laws scowled at the nine man-asses.
The normal people left behind their wine and champagne. We collect about a vineyard's worth. Our hatred for wine is outmatched by our affection towards free intoxicants.
We're all good and grown-up people, but we're also Dumbass-ness Enablers. We cannonball a bottle of Malibu. Games of Ball Tapping and then Dick Tag start. I try to convince Dr. Milhouse to prescribe me medicinal marijuana. MFNS tries to give Tito a microwaved shot of vodka, because apparently you're supposed to barf on your wife on your wedding night.
I manage to dance with L-Hawk and we profoundly converse about life, relationships and friendship, but I can't remember a single thing except that I couldn't spin her too hard because she forgot her wristguard.
The band quits, we grab all the booze we can find and try to figure out how to trek home. Sterny, MFNS and a few more steal the newlywed's taxi. A dude wearing a cutoff jean jacket tries to impress all the junior high girls by kicking gravel in his 1982 T-Bird. He'd be cooler if he gave us a ride. A cowpoke steals Anemic Dave's girlfriend. Next thing I know I'm magically drinking beers in a motel.
Steve-O and I snort some delicious Goldschlager, and then Anemic Dave and I drink in our boxers on the roof of a shed. His girlfriend, who returned somehow, convinces us to come down after an hour. I try to get MFNS to take a shot so he attempts to break my arm – he dislocated my shoulder nine years ago in a similarly stupid wrestling match. Luckily I tap out this time. At some point, the party dies and I pass out at the foot of the bed like a shaved orangutan.
DAY 3
Housekeeping wakes us up at 8 a.m., even though we have the room until noon. I throw on a fresh shirt and go for breakfast at the Country Kitchen. Our understanding waitress brings us 13 carafes of coffee and some delicious omelet things.
The Kids say goodbye until next time. We hug it out and hit the road again. In the car we have The Great Debate. The world's preschoolers play Duck-Duck-Goose, but in Minnesota they are adamant the game is called Duck-Duck-Gray Duck and everyone else is painfully wrong. Steve-O and Special Ladyfriend decide to quit driving and nap in a public park. I wonder why the truck stop people glare at me, then I notice I'm wearing a shirt that says "ProSlut." Oops.
We get lost again, but finally get to Homebase. Sterny and I roam to the drugstore like stoned zombies. I buy a Totino's pizza and Sterny buys that stupid Head-On stuff. Neither product cures hangovers. A commercial says there's a new season of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia this September. L-Hawk tells us that's three months from now. Sterny and I are amazed at her capability to do math.
I don't shower for two more days because I can't stand upright for three minutes. The only thing I can think is "I can't wait to do this again in a month."
Stay tuned for July's installment: "A Favor for a Favor."