Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Partay in Delaware?

There's not too much from the past week in the way of specifics that's truly printable. But, sheeet, I'm gonna recap it anyway.

You know it wasn't exactly a PG trip when the three main goals of the bachelor party slowly devolved into this list: 1) ball-gagging and gang-raping a sweet elderly man that we met with his three middle-aged sons in the bar on the first night, 2) firebombing the condo-hotel across the street from our house and gunning down those that luckily flee, and 3) bumrushing and beating Tony Danza to death before his upcoming show at nearby Dover Downs.

The hilarious damage? One dude unconsciously pissed in another dude's law school knapsack at 6 am. When pressed, his drunken, sleepy response was "I was told on the phone earlier that I could piss in this bag." One dude couldn't be more upset with me that I wouldn't let him throw a glass pickle jar into the street; another hates me for putting a stop to Roof Golf with beer cans, a broom and the neighbor's backyard for a fairway. One dude spit the whipped cream off his Jello shot into the waitress' face at a bar called the Rusty Rudder (also affectionately known as The Slutter). Three dudes, including a former D-1 lineman, took turns pitching fastballs at each other's backs with rock hard potato rolls from five feet away.

Between the hours of 2 and 6 am one night, three of us wouldn't stop yelling the name of Blackburn Rovers winger Morten Gamst Pedersen, with the "Gaaaamst" bastardized to fit the style of Cameron's "Peterson!" from Ferris Bueller. The night before it was a version of Ted Knight's "Danny, mow my lawn, hmmm hmmm, Danny" speech, obviously loosely based on the actual dialogue. The night after we did the same thing with old ballplayers in the voice of Yanks' radio announcer Jon Sterling. "Theee 1-1 to John Jaha." The stenographer I wanted to hire would have had a field day with this dialogue.

All told, we drained at least twenty 30-packs in the house alone, cracked 192 whippets, ate $200 worth of dope, smoked $400 worth of meat, created a new drink called CumpleMinze, played a whole six-team Cornhole tournament, built a Beirut table from scraps and played hundreds of matches, and the cops only came by twice. We, of course, ball-gagged and gang-raped the police repeatedly. About the only people we didn't kidnap were the three most heinous girls -- not just in the world, but along the entire eastern seaboard -- that Starbux brought over from the beach to act as our very own Ipecac.

It was one of those trips that was intensely and incredibly hilarious there, but if you weren't in Dewey with us to witness it, you'd think we were a bunch of dorks. Probably the truth, anyway. I cried from laughing at least three times. And we had our very own Yankees Old Timers Day, courtesy of Handstand the Elder, who made up some awesome shirts for us and called the whole 10-minute ceremony with a dead-on Jon Sterling impersonation, complete with stats and middlenames and nicknames.

Above: What has two thumbs and a shirt of a guy who sucked balls after being the greatest rising star ever. Below: Yankee fans, give a Bronx welcome to Kevin Maas, Eric Plunk, Dan Pasqua, Mike Easler and Mike Pagliarulo (not pictured: our own Bobby Meachem, who showed up a day late). More Yanks Pics: Another group shot, Plunk & Easler, Accepting my shirt and Pags!

This truly was a trip for the ages...and my immune system agrees, having completely shut down for the last 48 hours. Between that and the bachelor yakking behind a dumpster on the way home, I think I did my job as Best Man. Best Man...Better Man.

Slack Link of the Day: Mang, how didn't I think of this? This is just brilliant: "A man claiming to be a high-ranking federal housing official addressed a conference Monday on public housing in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, claiming the government was reversing its policy."

Runners-up: Saddam Hussein forced to watch South Park movie; Dozen Pot Plants Found Growing...At Police Station; and Kids Watch As Clown Is Crushed to Death...

Slack Video of the Day: Handstand the Younger told me about this video, and it's as good as advertised. Take the Ipecac Challenge.

Slack Song of the Day: I'll explain later why I've had Led Zeppelin in my head on a loop for the last 24 hours, but for now, please enjoy this crisp copy of the Stairway Sessions from 1970. It's got a couple Stairways, at different points in the history of the song, a Black Dog, a Hey Hey What Can I Do?, and much more. Beauty.


At 11:05 AM, Anonymous shoe5548 said...

C'mon dude, where's the Bustle post? Get on it man! :>)

At 12:56 PM, Anonymous Dorsey said...

Brilliant idea with the old timers day theme. I've spent the last 15 A-Rod at bats having convinced myself Jim Leyritz was the greatest #13 to put on a Yankee uniform. Completely forgot about Pags! And please tell the man who presented you with your t-shirt that growing upper lip hair to be one with the rest of today's mustachioed Yanks is truly inspirational.

At 12:59 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Actually, believe it or not, he's growing that for an entirely different reason. He works for a single A team that's dominating right now, and everyone in the front office is growing them (even the chicks) until the playoffs end and they take home a trophy.

But as Donnie pointed out, it made him look like 1985 David Stern during all those handshakes.

At 1:10 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

As long as the Single A team isn't an affiliate of the Red Sox, that's totally cool. If it is, I hope you ball-gagged and raped him regularly throughout the weekend.

At 1:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

tigers gonna get dem' yankums this week!

At 1:35 PM, Blogger Some Dude said...

Old Timer's thing is great. I think more people should be rockin' their favorite Yankees t-shirts to the stadium instead of all the Jeter, A-Rod and Giambi shirts you see.

I'd love for people to start wearing Don Slaught, Claudell Washington, Ron Hassey and Mel Hall shirts instead.

At 2:18 PM, Anonymous The Rusty Rudder said...

Hope you and your douchebag friends survived everything I threw at you. That's right! Go back to New York and your little fuckin' girlie bars serving you fuckin' $37 mojitos with doilies and shit. And come back to me when you can handle bottom shelf, basement level 50 cent tequila shots and George Thorogood cover bands. And next time, bring your boyfriends, too. Little bitches.

At 2:21 PM, Blogger Boski93 said...

What no Bobby Meachum, Rick Rhoden, Steve Kemp or Lance McCullers?

At 4:17 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

We did have a Meachem...I said so in between those two pics. Gota read this shit more carefully, Boski.

At 6:32 PM, Blogger Boski93 said...

Sorry, mid-day crack dulled competitive edge.

Then may I pinch hit for the Columbus Clipper with Luis Polonia?

At 10:20 AM, Blogger Alex Fritz said...

I'm having a hard time deciding who the D-I football player was... Pasqua or Easler?

At 11:14 AM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Actually, neither. He's not a Yankee fan, nor was he there yet.

At 11:36 AM, Blogger Alex Fritz said...

Well, whoever Pasqua is, by that pic he looks like the biggest man in history.*

*Yes, even taller than Bob Wadlow of Alton, IL.


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