Random Thought Of The Day #748

Day 748

Third Time Isn't A Charm

(When? - October 2009)

Most of my friends have known better than to invite me to their weddings. Maybe it's because they know I'm going to cause a spectacle. Maybe it's because they know I'll get boldly drunk and wildly out of control before trying to sleep with any reasonably attractive girl there, including the bride's mother if she's got that cougar thing going. They might know that I'm that guy that would yell at the DJ for playing the Chicken Dance, even if all the old people are loving it. Because the Chicken Dance sucks.

Or maybe because I'm just not a good enough friend that they're willing to tolerate my narcissistic attention whoring and just don't invite me.

I'm leaning towards this option.

However, a few of my friends have made the mistake of inviting me to weddings. My brother, of course, invited me to his. And as was expected, made me the Best Man. I mean... I might be a gigantic pain in the ass and a completely self-indulgent jackass, but I'm still his brother. Who the fuck ELSE would he pick? Though his wife DID demand that I write my Best Man speech ahead of time and give her a copy that she could proof read and have veto power over. I, of course, wrote one and turned it over. Then promptly ignored what I wrote and made something up on the spot because... fuck you, that's why.

My brother and I couldn't be more dissimilar. Wait, that's not entirely true. There was a time where we were very much alike. Then he got boring and I got awesomer and now we couldn't be more dissimilar. Where he might use fancy words like "moderation" and "mature" and "sober", I ignore those words and just do whatever I want while ignoring the consequences of my actions and denying any responsibility if things go badly. Nothing is ever my fault. Because I'm better than you.

Well, I had a feeling that my brother's wedding was going to be a total shit show from the first time he told me about it. It wasn't going to be here. It was going to be in middle-of-fucking-nowhere, Central PA because that's where my sister-in-law's family is from. And because they had more family than we do, apparently we had to do the wedding out there. This meant a few things. It meant that not many of our mutual friends would not bother making the 3 hour trek to Nowheresville, Pennsyltuckey. It also meant that there would be a minimal number of hot girls there. Because it was nowheresville, pennsyltuckey. I wasn't really super concerned about this second thing when I agreed to both GO and be the Best Man, because TheDevil was going to be coming as my Plus One.

Leading up to the wedding, I had exactly 1 thing on my mind. Bachelor Party. But my brother, being entirely dissimilar to me, said the 2 words that every Best Man dreads hearing. "No Strippers". What. The. Fuck. How does that even work? This was going to be the 3rd wedding that I'd been to in the past few years where the rule was "no strippers" for the bachelor party. And not even for the usual bullshit reason of "the Bride's dad/uncles/brothers/cousins were coming to the bachelor party". See, that one is easy to get around. You just do 2 Bachelor parties. One that is safe for them to come to, and you either do a different one on a different night that includes strippers that you don't tell them about, or you just say the bachelor party goes from 7-10 and then you move onto the bars and strip clubs from there.

No, in all 3 cases it was because the GROOM DIDN'T WANT STRIPPERS! How is this even fucking possible? Did that recently suffer a severe head trauma? Because what the fuck kind of bachelor party is it without strippers? Fuck, I almost feel like I have been spending the intervening years of strip club patronage just making up for the lack-there-of strippers at these 3 bachelor parties. This is bullshit and it's entirely unacceptable. Because fuck you,  I don't care if you're the groom. It's a night to go absolutely batshit fucking crazy, do the stupidest shit imaginable, have glitter-trailed whores plaster themselves to your lap, and generally act like a drunken fool all night. And not only is it acceptable, it's encouraged by everyone except for the most pious and prudish of evangelical assholes. And even those fucking people are just hypocritical assholes who just wish they had the balls to do the kind of shit that they preach against doing. Pussies.

Now how in the fuck am I supposed to organize a Bachelor Party that doesn't involve strippers? I had some ideas, but then he decided to throw yet another hurdle at me.

Not only were we not allowed to have strippers involved, but every time I suggested a time and location to do it in Pittsburgh, he had some bullshit excuse. I was running short on time to fit this fucking thing in, and he decided that we should wait and do it the weekend of the wedding. After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding. I think you know what that means. It's in bumfuck nowhere PA, with only a handful of our friends, and no strippers. This is going to fucking suck.

There were a grand total of 6 people that I knew that were going that were not members of my family or hers. The other 3 groomsmen (Batman, BoyWonder, and some dude that I only kinda knew), of which only 2 of whom I could even tolerate by this point, a couple that I had had a falling out with about 6 months prior, and a female friend that I still hang out with occasionally today. Fucking great. Because it wasn't going to suck enough as-is, a bachelor party with 5 people plus the groom in the middle of nowhere was totally the way to redeem this dump truck fire of suck. Sure. It also means that getting a drunk bus was out of the question. And that people would actually have to drive to and from the bar. Which also means that it's MY JOB to make sure someone is sober enough to drive, and knows how to get back to the hotel. But because nobody actually had a van or SUV, it meant that 2 people would have to drive in order to even fit everyone in the cars. Fucking better.

But I am awesome and I will find a way to make this awesome. Because I'm better than everyone.

In addition to the piles of fucking great news I was getting about the state of Bachelor Party options that I was getting in the weeks leading up to the wedding, I was also getting some even better news at home. TheDevil was starting to hint about backing out of attending. And sure enough, the morning that we were set to leave, I got the not-entirely-unexpected news that she didn't feel up to going. She made up a handful of excuses about needing decompression time before doing something the following week, and about not knowing my friends or family and feeling uncomfortable, and any number of other poorly-reasoned justifications that amounted to typical whore-logic. I was already starting to get sick of her shit as it was, and this just served to increase my volatility towards her.

With that news, the wedding weekend potential was quickly sinking from salvageable to "where's the life-boats, cause this boat is taking on fucking water".

Let's do a quick count on the usual bachelor party things that we have and don't have:

A good group of friends? Nope. 90% of them weren't even coming.
Strippers? Nope. Because the groom apparently hates pussy.
The ability to stumble from bar-to-bar shithoused? Nope. Because we're in the fucking sticks.
A drunk bus to get us to and from the bars? Nope. Because it's the fucking sticks and those things don't exist there. Fuck. Maybe I can find a hillbilly to ride us around in the back of his pick-em-up truck?
Hot single girls that that get horny from weddings? Nope. Because it's in October and most 20-something girls are away at college, and those that are done with school and still live in rural PA are either ugly or married. Because no hot 20-something girl still lives in bumfuck nowhere after college voluntarily. They move to cities. We were at least an hour and a half outside of anything you could reasonably call a city.
Slutty brides-maids? Negative, Ghost-Rider. Because it was literally ALL 3 of the Bride's younger sisters. The only one that was legal was paired with me, and she had a kinda douchey boyfriend that was coming to the wedding with her.
A date that I could at least knew I was ending up in bed with that night? Nope. She bailed at literally the last minute.

This wedding was running out of ways to reach even greater levels of suck. And I hadn't even left the house for the 3 1/2 hour drive to it yet. The only thing I even had to look forward to was giving my Best Man speech. And the soon-to-be-sister-in-law wanted veto power over that too.

When I finally arrived, the only thing I wanted to do was get through it without being entirely miserable. And the only way to do that was going to be to drink heavily.

I got checked in and even though I had my dog with me, I knew that it was going to be less-than fun.

I was already running about 10 minutes late when I finally left for the rehearsal dinner. But fuck it, I'm the Best Man, they can't start without me. So they can live with it. And it was only about 10 minutes away. Using the GPS on my phone to guide my way, I was about half way there when I hit some traffic. And some construction. 1/4 mile from the only confusing part of the directions, my phone rang. I missed the turn as a result. There were 2 off-ramps within 200 yards of one another and I took the wrong one. Fuck. Well, this should be simple enough, right? All I need to to is get to the bottom, cross straight across the road onto the on-ramp, and get back off at the next off-ramp.

No such fucking luck. The on-ramp was closed. Shit. Well, I can just go back the other direction on the highway, get off at the previous exit, double back again and hit the right off-ramp this time, right? Yeah, not so much. In fact, when I hit the end of the off-ramp, I found out that I could only go one way, and it wasn't taking me anywhere close the highway. Seriously, who the fuck designs these detours? And why is it my luck that I have to hit the one that is so poorly designed?

Being forced to go in one direction, you'd think that there would be signs to indicate how you get back to the highway, right? Yeah, also too simple. There were absolutely zero detour signs. "Oh, you want to go to the highway? Fuck you". Thanks, PennDOT. Fuck you very much too.

And of course, any attempts to use the GPS to adjust my course were routinely interrupted by family members calling me, repeatedly, to find out where I was.

Me: "I would probably not be getting lost so much if you'd stop fucking calling, because I can't talk on my phone and use it's GPS at the same time"

Mom: "Oh"

5 minutes later

Mom: "where are you?"

Me: "What part of stop calling me didn't you understand? What part of my phone is my GPS is too complicated? And what part of every time you call, I get lost again was too fucking difficult. So stop calling me or I'll just wander around lost for another hour on purpose and fuck you, you can wait"

6 minutes later

*ring*

Me: "STOP FUCKING CALLING!" *click*

I was pissed by the time I finally got there. I was 45 minutes late. I had a look on my face that just said "the first person to cross me is getting hit with a chair WWF style". Normally I can take a joke, even when I'm pissed. When unfortunate things happen to me, my friends are great at giving me shit about it. I can laugh at myself. I can take a joke at my expense. Hell, I expect it. But not today. I was in no mood for any one's shit. TheDevil backing out on me at the last minute was my last straw. The 3 1/2 hour drive didn't help. And the traffic, construction, detours, getting lost, and constant phone calls that made me even more lost pushed me over the edge.

I got a look from both of my parents when I walked that said "we're displeased by your tardiness and the way you talked to us when we called you'. They were trying to "not make a scene". I didn't care about a scene and just said "fuck you both" as I walked past. There was an audible gasp from other people at the rehearsal dinner. I wasn't even in the mood to play it off as "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am" and turn it into an excuse to put the spotlight back on me, like I usually would do. I was that angry.

I sat down at my table and was silent. Nobody even looked at me directly. They all glanced quickly out of the corners of their eyes. Apparently I had the "I'm going to stab you if you even look at me" expression on my face. They apparently didn't enjoy being stabbed. So it worked out.

About 10 minutes into dinner, Batman made the first mistake. I was already irritated, and hungry, and not only was there not even bread out, but the waiter hadn't even bothered to come over and ask me if I'd like a drink. I wanted 5. Immediately. To start. It might have been enough to take the edge off, but I couldn't be certain. I felt like 5 was low-balling the estimate on the quantity of alcohol I'd need to not be fuming anymore. But it was a safe enough bet. Plus, I didn't think he'd be able to carry more than 5 at once.

Everybody sensed how pissed off I was at the whole situation, but Batman is a fucking idiot. He has absolutely zero sense of tact. And has horrible situational awareness. Everyone else knew better than to talk to me. He apparently did not.

The waiter brought me my drinks. I pounded them down in  under 2 minutes. I was still not happy.

Batman: "Joe, you shouldn't get so upset about things. You need to learn to control your temper better. It's why you're so unsuccessful."

Me: *GLARE*

Batman: "I mean... with school and with..."

Me: {not even allowing him to finish his sentence and quite loudly} "If you say another fucking word to me, I'll beat you to death with this chair and before setting your corpse on fire and using your mouth for an ashtray while ignoring the smoking ban and drinking myself into a coma. So keep fucking talking, asshole. We'll see how well it works out for you"

Another audible gasp from the rest of the rehearsal dinner. You sell cabinets for your Dad and still live at home at 28. Don't give me shit, junior.

{writer's note: Batman and I didn't speak after this incident for 2 years. And only then, because he offered a great deal on my kitchen cabinets by proxy through my brother, after he found out I was going to re-do my kitchen last year. And we haven't spoken again since I wrote him the last check for the cabinets}

I stood up and walked out. I didn't say another word. I simply got in my car and drove back to my hotel. I immediately went to the hotel bar.

About 2 hours later, my brother and one of the few people I actually liked that was attending the wedding came in. We drank there. They wanted to do the bachelor party still. I was in no mood, but was willing to suffer through it if we could find something actually fun to do. The only options were townie biker and hillbilly bars, or a TGI Fridays near some strip mall. Apparently Batman and BoyWonder were only going to go if they went to the Townie dive bars. I was only willing to go to a place that the majority of patrons did not sleep with their sisters with any sort of regularity. They apparently didn't have standards because Batman is the cheapest fuck I've ever met, and BoyWonder is his sidekick and bitch with no ability to say no. It's like Steve-Dave and Walt Flannigan. But by this point, they were even more pathetic. There was a reason that I stopped hanging out with them a few years prior. They sucked now.

I made it perfectly clear that I was not going anywhere with Batman. If he was going, I was not. Because if I got drunker, I was going to throw him from a moving vehicle while gleefully singing the theme from Mary Poppins. I knew I'd need some proof of insanity for the ensuing trial. I wanted to avoid that.

Eventually, they settled on going to the townie dive bars because Batman is a fuck. I drank myself into a stumbling state at the hotel bar until getting thrown out for smoking after being refused an ashtray, ignoring the numerous no-smoking signs around the bar, and multiple warnings from the bartender and hotel manager. Fuck them. When I'm in that foul of a mood, even my normally uncanny ability to manipulate a situation and people into getting what I want doesn't work. I was going to be absolutely zero fun without slutty girls taking their clothes off or being black-out drunk. I honestly don't blame them. I was in a full-on Joe Smash alcohol-amplified rage. I didn't even want to drink with me that night. And there's nobody that loves me more than me.

The next day was the wedding. I arrived at the church and didn't catch fire. I have disproved god. Or I am a god of equal power. I think it may be the second case. But I'm fine with either options.

Batman was smart enough to not even look at me during the actual ceremony. The actual ceremony was typical and boring. I handed some rings over to my brother at one point, and kinda zoned out for the rest of the time. I had to be poked when it was time for me to fulfill the few duties that a Best Man actually has during a wedding. I was more interested in the open bar at the reception.

I got to the reception and was quickly disappointed. They had 1 white and 1 red wine, well liquor, and Clydesdale urine as their beer option. I was not pleased. I dove into the shitty vodka instead.

After an hour, I had moved from singles to doubles to triples for my drinks. The reason was simple. I was hating everyone there even more with every passing second. I expected the talent pool to be minimum at the ceremony, but I wasn't trying to fuck anyone in the church. I kinda was going to be busy with the whole 'standing on the stage thing"... thing. However, I hoped it would pick up at the reception. Even fractionally. It did not. In fact, if anything, it got worse. There were exactly 2 attractive girls there that were not my friends, and both of them had boyfriends or husbands with them. I wasn't even talking about hot women, I just meant attractive. Hell, there weren't even any that I didn't expect to see pulling a plow later that day.

Because you know, this couldn't get worse.

Finally, it reached the only part of the entire weekend that I was even marginally looking forward to. The part where everyone is watching me again. The speeches.

As I mentioned above, the bride had asked me to actually write a speech and then submit it to her ahead of time. I did. I also subsequently ignored everything I wrote and just said "fuck it, I'll make it up when I get up there". Like I pretty much always do.

The Maid Of Honor did her speech and got a few jokes about procrastinating because she had only written it the night before. Then it was my turn.

Me: "Well, she did ok for only writing it last night. But she still beat me. I didn't even write one. Well, that's not true. I wrote one because Wifey asked me to. She wanted veto power. Because she apparently knows me well enough to know that she should review things before I say them publicly. she apparently does not know me well enough to know that I would humor her and then still make something up when I got up here. I win."

I proceeded to give a meandering speech that involved spiders taking over the world if they had wings, how much human beings suck, moonshine, and internet gambling. You know... in that patented Joe style that somehow connects all of those things and you're not quite sure how, or if you're smarter or stupider for having read it when you're done. It was like a spoken-word Random Thought.

Somehow, when I was done, I got a standing ovation. I don't even know exactly what I said, but apparently it was quite moving. I don't even know how. I kept myself as the main topic of the whole thing, kind of ignored that there was a wedding going on, and rambled on about nothingness for 10 minutes. Yet apparently it was metaphor for love or something. Or at least that's what some old woman told me. I just smiled and nodded. Yeah, sure. Go ahead and think that. I'd go back and watch the video of it to figure out how the fuck they got that out of what I said, but I don't really care enough.

There's really nothing else funny that happened. I got blindly intoxicated, barely spoke to anyone, and was just generally a gigantic ass to everyone. By the time I left, the only people I was still speaking to were my brother and his wife, my one female friend that I'm still close with, and the other groomsman that I barely know. Hell, I ended up just hanging out with them through most of the reception.

I slept it off at the hotel later and ended up still leaving that night to drive back home. The ceremony was early. Around noon. The reception started at 2 and ended at around 7:00, so by the time I got back to the room, napped to sober up enough to drive, and headed home with my dog, it was around midnight. I walked in the door at around 4am and just went back to bed.

I blame it all on the lack of strippers. With strippers, or with a drunk bus, this could have been salvageable. But instead, it was a total shit show and would have required effort to make it suck more than it did. It was just filled to the gills with suck instead. And was entirely irredeemable.