
So my bachelor party has come and gone and, as expected, it was a great time. Even set against the depressing backdrop of Cleveland, Ohio, it did not disappoint. Well done, Damman, on coming through and giving all of us a good time (with his mouth). It was even cool finally meeting crotchety and angry commenter, Seal, and seeing all of the old JBeanie commenters (except for Beanie himself who turned out to be a coward). How about I share a few tales from the weekend for you, huh? I mean, it's what you want. After all, I truly do believe that the actions of one of my boys caused the death of Billy Mays but you will have to wait for that analogy.
We roll into northeast Ohio early on Saturday and check in to our EXTREMELY sketchy hotel. We all cab it down to Panini's and start the drinking at around 3. A couple of notes about Panini's: they actually have one of those sex toy dispensers in the bathroom! I haven't seen one of those things in years. At this point, I was coherent enough to do what I wanted to do...trying to find someone wearing the most bizarre jersey possible. I actually saw Reds fans wearing Adam Dunn shirts and an Indians fan wearing a CC t-shirt jersey. They cost $20 bucks...go out and buy a new one, ya cheap bastards. Why would you buy any Adam Dunn merchandise anyway? Much props to the guy wearing a STEVE KARSAY jersey. That takes some balls. But the one that was the "best" was the old man wearing a #1 Reds jersey with "DAD" on the back. I'm sure that Izzy Mandelbaum would argue that this guy is not the #1 Dad but I'm not sure how official those rankings are. Well done, #1 DAD, you are an asshole.
We moved onto the Thirsty Parrot for some more debauchery which is where we ran into the aforementioned Beanie crew. Thankfully, both posse's got along well and we avoided a West Side Story-esque, finger-snapping rumble. This is where things got good. Out of nowhere, Windell Middlebrooks shows up. Who is that, you ask? He is none other than the
MILLER HIGH LIFE GUY!!! He was wearing his High Life shit and everything. Nice guy, and he took pictures with everyone. He even wished me good luck on my wedding. He's totally invited now! It was at this bar where some asstard tried to get in Reba's face and I played peacemaker until he got pissed off at me. It went like this:
G$: Dude, relax. He bumped into you on accident and apologized.
Asstard: He was hitting on my buddy's wife (which he did not do anyway)!
G$: Well...is she hot?
He did not take this too well. But JB told a cop that he was picking fights so they threw him out. This is probably about the time that I should explain how awful my explosive, biohazard gas was. If there is a farting hall of fame, I would have turned in the tape from Saturday night as reason why I should be included. It was horrendous. I was literally clearing out sections of people and all the while laughing maniacally. It was definitely the best performance around Progressive Field that night.
We did not win any of the FREE MONEY NIGHT money. We all got $1 vouchers which were all given to me and I parlayed that into a Leinenkugel's in the bleachers. We walked into the game at the same time as John Adams AKA the dickbag that always bangs on the drum in the outfield. Damman and Jeff H got their pictures taken with him. I think that Damman had a boner. The game itself was as awful as a Tomo Ohka/Homer Bailey game could be. Thankfully, we had no kids sitting near us so we had free reign to swear up a storm and entertain all that sat near us. I know that I very loudly announced that Grady Sizemore is struggling this year because it's hard to swing with a dick in his mouth and that he has purple lips just like A-Rod. That went over well. We left early due to the awfulness of both teams, but it was fun acting like the old guys from The Muppets that just rip on everything that they see. That was us on Saturday.
Now I'm wearing my Yankees hat just to let everyone know how much better I am than them. On the way out, a few guys who were playfully busting my balls every time that I walked by started shooting off at the mouth again. It was the typical shit which was easily swatted away with a "the Indians are fucking terrible". But one guy threw out the worst smack of all time by yelling out "Go Xavier Nady"! Really? That's where you're going to go. Xavier Nady smack? I hope he got hit by a bus.
We drink a few more beers and it's time to head to the gentlemen's club. Somehow we all got in for free and it was a solid time. I was done with beer and switched to 7/7's at that point. It looks like you're drinking scotch. I felt like "the world's most interesting man". No, I did not go up on stage with the whores or anything. It was just a normal night of paying chicks to take their clothes off. The important part of this story is from when we left.
They are kicking everyone out and at this point, JB decides that he wants to leave his mark on the night. So he starts faking an epileptic seizure in the strip club. Now normally (I think), you have spasms when you seizure. JB's seizures required him to walk into a bunch of rooms, knock over chairs and tables, throw stacks of paper in the air, and scream "I NEED MY PILLS!!!". It took 6-7 employees to escort him out but it was funny because since they thought that he was having a seizure, they didn't kick the shit out of him. And of course, as soon as he stepped outside, he was normal again. And they all saw it. It was like when Verbal Kint turned from gimp to Keyser Soze. Hilarious. By the way, JB threw up all over himself about 10 minutes after he did this. And now I am certain that since my boy faked a seizure for laughs...something bad had to happen in return. Sorry, Billy Mays, JB killed you with his dickheadery.
Finally, everyone hops into a van to head back to the shithole hotel except for Damman, Joel, Kuehn, and myself. There was not enough room. We're just hanging out in front of a strip club at 3 am in a terrible part of town. It's been 45 minutes and no cab has shown up eventhough we called for three of them. So this old lady driving a van shows up and picks up 3 drunk guys and she asks us where we need to go. She tells us to hop in. Let me be clear on this: this WAS NOT a taxi service. It was just some old lady driving around The Flats in a conversion van at 3 am. Although this is sketchy, fuck it, the four of us hop in. The lady has a DVD going of some Michael Jackson concert. It was weird. Really weird. She took us back without raping/killing us and we gave her like $5, but it was just bizarre. We just got into some weirdo's van...that is when you know that you've had too much to drink. And we asked her to take us to Taco Bell at least 10 times.
At about 3:45, the first appearance of Naptown Wolverine's testicles are seen. I didn't think that it would take that long. I angered Damman with this missive when he was already passing out (keep in mind, I talk REALLY loud when I'm wasted):
G$ - Hey! The Tribe traded DeRosa to the Cardinals.
Damman - I DON'T FUCKING CARE, GOD DAMMIT! GO TO FUCKING BED!
Classic.
So there you go. I'm sure there were a few things that I missed so feel free to add on in the comments. I will say this, Bob Evans hangover breakfast was absolutely terrible. I spent $5 on chocolate milk there though...which is always clutch. I've rambled on long enough so I've got to get going. After all, I NEED MY PILLS!
Labels: bachelor party, Cleveland Indians, I'm sexy, my commenters suck, strippers