Twas the night before Jimmy's wedding

They packed up and left, a wedding to attend.
The big guy, the Koala and their Hispanic friend.

They drove to Longview. No air conditioning was pretty lame.
In the car, Mexican sweat wasn't just a card game.

Their destination was the Holiday Inn.
There they were joined by the short guy and dressed themselves in ties. Let the drinking begin!

They gathered in front of the camera, next to the dining room,
the groomsmen and the soon-to-be groom.

Declining to epitomize style and grace,
they opted instead to line up four-wide and hold up a tiny ass-face.

Onto the bar and the tender named Chris.
He tried his best to pour drinks, but often did miss.

Patron and Jager, intended for glasses didn't make it that far.
The liquor now lay dead in puddles all over the bar.

Said the Koala, "you're a shitty bartender, I must confess."
"Don't listen to him." "He shoud if he seeks success!"

Chris was angered when the Koala went too far,
and asked if he could order a beer just to dump it all over the bar.

Normally the big guy would have stepped in to save the bartender from the verbal attack,
but he didn't really care tonight. Plus, he was on his third glass of Jack.

Back to the dining room they all did go,
To take their seats next to a rodent and the second coming of Barbaro.

The bride and the groom gave them all gifts and made quite a fuss.
Three jerseys of Houston athletes and an autographed pic of the Bus.

The big guy glanced across the room and saw an attractive girl whom he did not know.
It was the groom's cousin. A mini Jessica Biel, imo.

Back to the bar for another round, the number of which they had lost count.
At this point in the night, the groomsmen had drank a ridiculous amount.

Mini Jessica Biel next to the big guy did sit,
and when she initiated conversation, his pants he nearly did shit.

"Tell me what you drink in Texas, if you please."
The big guy winked as he replied, "the juice of an armadillo...fresh squeezed!"

Returning to the dining area and appalled by what he had just done,
the big guy was approached by the groom's father who said, "Watch out for her. She's a wild one."

The food eaten and the end of the evening at the restaurant drawing near,
the groomsmen decided to leave. The big guy stealing some bovine headgear.

To a different bar! It wasn't even late.
But they needed a sober driver. Enter their Hetero soul mate!

The hetero soul mate did rock.
He turned out to be a fine DJ and also the anti cock block.

He took them to a bar which was laid back and mellow.
There were drinks, a dance floor and a fancy singing African-American fellow.

The big guy, Mini JB, the Koala and his lady in waiting all took a seat,
shortly thereafter, the latter two left to have a heart-to-heart outside by the street.

The big guy hoped the outside conversation didn't turn into a war,
but it also gave him alone time with JB to discuss important things like borderline alcoholism and Mt. Rushmore.

They talked and laughed and the big guy felt she was into him to a certain degree.
They interpretive danced. He was an otter! A sea lion! A tree!

"I hope nobody interrupts this," the big guy prayed.
But soon enough was a charge led by none other than the cock block brigade.

Their seats on the comfortable couches had now been vacated,
and around the tiny table sat the big guy and six or eight people whom he now hated.

They heard "Bleeding Love," Leona Lewis' big hit.
The big guy drunkenly said, "JB, to this song, I'd ask you to dance if I were better at it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the short guy's girlfriend disapprovingly shaking her head.
Perhaps something less dumb he should have said?

"I think you two should dance anyway," suggested the Hetero soul mate before long.
They both agreed. It was to that "Easy Like a Sunday Morning" Commodores song.

He thought this song title was foreshadowing for sure,
as he deftly maneuvered his adorable ass on the dance floor.

They laughed as she sang made up words to go along with the beat.
He slyly glanced down at her boobs a few times under the guise of "I'm making sure I'm not stepping on your feet!"

The two stayed on the floor to dance at a slightly faster pace.
"Spin me," she said. They had fun until he caught a stray elbow in the face.

The bar was closing at midnight and the soon-to-be bride and groom said farewell.
The groom joined the groomsmen and they headed back to the hotel.

The big guy was saddened when his conquest was ended due to JB's severely drunken state.
Although drinking with the groom's cousins, Kyle and THE J2, was still pretty great.

"Use your key card to open the pool," the Hispanic fellow said, very insistent.
This was a mistake as The Koala would later find out that his Blackberry wasn't too water resistant.

Back in the room later when all were asleep, the big guy found the Hispanic fella on a nest of towels on the bathroom floor.
With puddles from the pool all around, the poor guy's back appeared to be wet once more.

He helped him into bed and made him stay.
They all needed some sleep if they were to be useful the next day.

"Hey Jim, you alive," the big guy sleepily said.
He figured, as best man, he'd be in some pretty deep shit if the groom ended up dead.

The groomsmen knew that they would be hung over and their heads pounding like a gong.
It was all good, though. This weekend was for their buddy and he'd be happily married before too long.

Jimmy's wedding, Pt. 1 (as told by Jon)

I wrote a little about this yesterday, but here's a more in-depth and hilarious version of events.

LINK!


From L: Dale, Richard, Jon, Jimmy, Cory (the one being held because he's the size of a small child.) Not real sure why Jimmy looks like an anime character in this picture, though.

Stuff

Jimmy and Khara's wedding this past weekend was pretty amazing. And surprisingly, I remember the whole thing. I don't want to get all "uncomfortable seriousness" post on you, but I'll just say that it's a pretty awesome thing to see and be close to (I mean the threesome) a relationship from the very beginning and see it result in a marriage. But seriously, probably the most perfect wedding I've ever been to. Khara wasn't demanding and seemed to have a really good time at all the party type things. Jimmy worried about pointless things like I fully expected him to. But that's why we love the guy.

The groomsmen, well, we drank enough to kill a horse faster than two broken front ankles. Are Eight Belles jokes still topical? I hope. I'm surprised none of us had to be put down. That part was pretty great.

Also, I held the attention of an attractive girl for a quite awhile without the aid of shiny or jingly things. I've figured out my problem with talking to women. All the ones I've tried to carry on conversations have been sober! Silly me. I've been going about it all wrong. Drunk girls think I'm funny. I'm pretty sure when asked about myself, I led off the conversation with, "Well, I got my first period when I was 11." Drunk girls apparently love that shit. Who knew!

Yeah, things were going pretty well for me at that bar we went to until the cock block brigade showed up. Apparently the vast expanse of unoccupied couches weren't enough for them. "Hey, Dale is having a great time with a hot girl. Better put a stop to this shit..." Sigh. Oh well. It was pretty great nonetheless. Well, it was until the night ended due to last call and a tragic jitterbuging accident resulting in me catching an elbow to the face.

And last and definitely least, I've just got to mention my good pal, the fuckin' reverend, Kenny. Normally, this guy could eat a bag of piping hot dicks, but I have to give him some props for showing up at the wedding wearing the sweetest suit this side of Flavor Flav. Seriously. This was a great suit. It was like a Houston Oiler and a Smurf made an awesome pinstriped baby, and Kenny made a suit from its skin. When am I going to get those pictures, douche? Soon, I hope.

Jon has a much more detailed account of this weekend's events. I'll post a link when he's done.

If this post doesn't make much sense or is formatted oddly, well...I intended to have a drink to help me go to sleep. That drink turned into some drinks. Have a great night/day all.

Happy Birthday

Today I would like to wish a happy birthday to my good pal, Jessica (Desperate Common Law Wives.) Although I usually distrust people who won't say "poop" or "fart," she's different. It's not often that you find someone who is willing to listen to you whine until the wee hours of the morning. I can honestly say that I'm a better person for having met her. I guess I'm thankful for that one night when her father and mother had dirty, dirty sexual intercourse in probably a plethora of positions. Some normal, some wheelbarrow-esque in nature.

So have a happy birthday, Jess. I'm glad we're friends and I hope we can be even better friends once we're cousins. *wink*

Who wouldn't play with these?

Ah, I remember when I was a kid and being so happy when spring rolled around. I'd whip out my fat balls and call all the neighborhood kids over. We'd knock 'em around until we were exhausted. Oh the times we had! Now that I'm an adult, it's getting harder and harder to find someone interested in playing with my fat balls.

Self-reliance

Being happy isn't as hard as I'm making it. I've realized over the past few days that I'm putting a lot of emphasis on things that, at this point, are more wants than needs. A lot of my problems stem from wanting validation from others. Sure it's nice to be liked and have people like the things you do, but it's not necessary for me to be happy, I've decided. I heard a lot of kind things about my last three posts, but I also heard one discouraging thing. Sadly, that one negative thing caused me to take them down.

It was nice to write about things that were serious and important to me. It felt pretty good to know that my writing made people feel things and actually think instead of just getting a cheap laugh. I was going to leave the posts down and just forget about the whole thing until I read this, from Self-Reliance by Emerson:

What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.

If I'm ever going to be taken seriously as not only a writer, but as a person, I have to learn to handle criticism and also not base what I do on people's opinions of me. I didn't write them for attention or for people to feel bad for me. I wrote them to write them. I wrote them to make me feel better and to also, hopefully, hold someone's attention for two minutes. Taking them down doesn't do anything but make me look weak and easily persuaded. It makes me look like I lack conviction and won't stand behind what I write. That's not the case, though. So I'm putting them back up. They are what they are and I'm proud of them. I think this is a step in the right direction for me.

I don't intend to fill this blog with serious posts, but they are probably going to be a bigger part of it in the future.

Thanks for reading.