“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: October 29, 2006

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Alright, a couple things before we get started today kids.

I was all set to start keeping a pretty regular pace with the posting, but I came down with what I can only assume was the black plague this week and got a little off schedule.

It started as a head cold and became a sinus infection and then, before I'd even realized it had gone beyond a cold, it got into my ears.

The result was a five hour trip to the emergency room.

I'm fine now, but for a few days there it hurt to look at light, which as I'm sure you can all imagine, made it kinda hard to use a computer.

Yes, I had to rely on analog porn for most of a week.

Aye, the horror... the horror...

But I'm back now you fuckers and I'm ready to get my writin' on.

First, responses to the comments left while I was sick:

Does NetFlix deliver porn to this place?
Token Homepage 10.24.06 - 7:36 pm

Does NetFlix deliver porn at all? If they do then I really need to get some goddamn NetFlix. Also you guys will likely have to say goodbye because my schedule will be entirely full for the rest of my life.

But even if they do deliver porn it would still come by mail and would therefore be useless for our bachelor party purposes.

HA! Love it. Okay, here goes: There was only one truly single bridesmaid. She would LOVE you and would let you teach her things. She would let you watch her embalm people. So that's why I point out SHE'S 19, and she's my baby cousin, so HANDS OFF. Meanwhile, she would have loved you. Content yourself with that and the fact that when she's 25 I'll totally fix you up. You'll owe me, too. I like reading about someone else's take on my wedding...makes me realize that crazy things really did happen that way, and I wasn't overreacting and obsessive. Hm.
Andrea 10.24.06 - 11:55 pm

Ok, I still fail to see where the problem is here. So she's a little younger than me, how much fucking longer can I possibly live anyways?

And yes, the crazy wasn't just you. In fact, I thought you were very reserved. I chalk it up, in part, to me distracting you from the stress with the additional stress of me sniffing around your baby cousin. :D

Hey Ford, can I have the goth chick when you're done with her?
Trashman Homepage 10.25.06 - 6:33 pm

Trashman, thanks for having faith enough in my tastes to think you'd want her after I was done with her, but to be done with her I'd have to end up with her and that's most likely not going to happen. If I do get a hold of her though I'll likely not let go till the authorities get involved, but once I'm legally restrained feel free to make a run for her.

Its not the town that stops sellin' alcohol in stores at midnight, its the whole fuckin' Commonwealth. Panties and pasties? Not my fuckin' dime brother-that's why Southern X in Princeton does so well. ...strangly enough, Brian was involved when I learned of the whole no alcohol at stores past midnite thing too....

Now....THIS is fuckin' hilarious....

I have PHOTOGRAPHIC proof of quite possibly what will be the ONLY time you have a female touching you that is NOT related to you


doing something medical to you, and you are more interested in the CHEESEBALL on the appetizer table than your escort for the evening.
R f'in S 10.25.06 - 6:34 pm

Rich, you send the pic and I'll put it on the blog, though I have no idea what you're talking about. This is probably because whatever happened was before I got sick and lost big chunks of my memory.

I can't recall a time when I had an 'escort for the evening' that wasn't your Mom.

And I got lucky that night.

I'm looking forward to the next installment of your wedding experience, dear Ford. Once you get patched up, come meet me and bring a camera. I'll give you blogging material for a month!
Sarah Homepage 10.29.06 - 11:48 pm

Sarah, meet Rich. Rich, meet Sarah, a woman that would more than likely touch me and whom I find more appealing than any cheeseball.

WTF !!!!!! Where's part four?
Trashman Homepage 10.30.06 - 8:13 am

Coming up...

But yeah, in my zeal to get the story out I skipped a bit.

Before the botched bachelor party, after the rehearsal dinner, we went to the Elks Lodge to decorate it for the wedding reception. This was at like 10:30 at night or so. We were supposed to be there at like 10, but I think a half an hour is a reasonable enough margin for error when dealing with a wedding don't you?

Well apparently the guy that was supposed to be there to give us the key didn't agree with us.

It seems that someone actually did get there in time to catch the guy. It went something like this:

Bridesmaid: (to guy in car with the key) “I bet you're wondering what all these cars are here for?”

Guy In Car: “Not really.”

Bridesmaid: “Well I'm here to decorate for the wedding.”

Guy In Car: “Yeah, well I'm going home.”

And he fucking went fucking home.

The fucker.

So by the time the rest of us got there (minus Wednesday Adams, which I'm sure was by design) we were locked outside in the less than hospitable weather.

I don't know if I mentioned that, but the weather that whole week was just shitty as all hell. Not pouring rain or anything. Just a cold dark drizzle that didn't let up the whole damn time we were down there.

It wasn't really a problem till we got locked out in it.

The doors were solid, the locks surprisingly good. Breaking in wasn't an impossibility. Breaking in without permanently damaging something, however, was out of the question.

It would have upheld our tradition of a pre-nuptual B&E though...

Still, on the pretense of checking the other doors I excused myself to go around the building because I'd been holding a fart for about two hours and it was reaching critical mass. Round the corner of the building and DAMMIT one of the bridesmaids comes up behind me talking on her phone.

I should have just let go anyway, but I'm a fucking gentleman goddammit.

After a thorough investigation of the rest of the building I give up and return to the front door, bridesmaid in tow, where we wait for about an hour for the guy to be found and bring the fucking key back. Once he did I counted on the keen analytical part of my brain to restrain the animal portion that wanted to beat him to death with a blunt object. Problem is, the keen analytical part –being cold and gassy– agreed with the animal side so I just avoided the fucker and channeled my aggression, as so many brute men do, into decorating.

With the exception of accidentally poking myself in the back of the leg with a chair leg this went uneventfully and we all went home.

Insert bachelor party segment of last post here.

So the end of the evening, as I take off my pants, (and yes, that's every bit as appealing as you're picturing it) I notice they're stuck to the back of my leg. The one I poked with the chair. I carefully peel it away and there's just blood everywhere. Soaked through the pant leg, into my sock, clear to my heel. Wasn't too bad once I cleaned it up but there was a chunk of skin about the size of a shot glass missing and I barely noticed it when it happened. So I bandage all that up and go to bed.

And I mean bed.

In a house full of guys sleeping on couches and air mattresses I had a whole bed to myself. This was partly due to the fact that last time I went down there was with Mike and Scott and even though I called dibs on the bed (a sacred man law) Mike and Scott (mostly Scott) whined like little bitches till I gave it to them. This pre-empted any claim that may lay on the next go around.

Everyone else was either content with where they were or just afraid to sleep in a bed with me.

See, I made it known that if anyone else wanted to run in there before I did and claim the bed like an asshole that was Ok so long as they were forewarned that I would be sleeping in there too and they couldn't stop me.

Also at play was the male insecurity of sleeping in a bed with another guy. Not my favorite way to sleep, I grant you, but if I have to I can sleep in a bed with another guy as long as he's at least wearing underwear and doesn't have a tendency for nocturnal spooning.

This is because I'm enlightened and in touch with my sexuality. My manliness is not threatened by this. I guess the lower mammals find this somehow 'gay', but as I pointed out to them, if I was going to homosexually molest them in some way I wouldn't need a bed to do it. I could do it right in the middle of the living room if I wanted to and none of them was strong enough to stop me.

Or maybe THAT'S why they didn't want to sleep in the bed with me.

In any event I slept very well on my own private bed.

Holy shit I need to get to sleep. Happy Halloween motherfuckers. I plan to finish off this story, complete with pictures (thanks Kaye!), tomorrow sometime right after I get a nap.

Then after that I can finish the story about the Stupid Bitch in the Kroger parking lot. Ohhh, it has a happy ending. :D