So I’m not entirely sure how to start this, as I am still tripping balls over the awesomeness that is the night that spawned this story. So awesome was this night that I don’t think I will ever sleep the same again. And I love sleep. My future children will pale in comparison to the memory of this night. No woman will ever be able to rock my world like this night did. Seriously, I cannot drill this home enough. I FUCKING LOVE THIS NIGHT. I think I might wanna take it for a midnight walk, possibly on an old stone bridge with a nice midsummer breeze blowing through this night’s hair. Hopefully with a full moon high in the sky, casting a beautifully natural night light across the bridge. So I can take this night, right there, for all the world to see.
Okay, so I think I’m good now. But seriously, read this story. It may be a little long. I don’t know yet, seeing as this is the second paragraph and I’m not Future Rooster. Take the time though, or the devil will eat your children.
We’re all still pretty young over here. So there’s definitely more of these to come. But the first of us is taking the leap into the bottomless pit that is marriage. (I say that to try and sound cool. But I totally don’t mean it. I’m totally stoked to eventually get married. I’m a hopeless romantic. So line up ladies. Rowr.) But yes, this beast of a man, Blowfish, is getting married. And now I get the privilege of telling the story of his bachelor party.
So we start off by suiting up to different degrees. Some more than others. Like Remicks and Aces. These guys suited up to the max. Which is fucking crazy because it was FUCKING HOT. But Remicks was hilarious. This guy is a short, loud, Italian dude with a bigass fucking personality. And he looked like a fucking mobster. So for this story, I’m changing his name to TheGodfather. So we surprise Blowfish, make him change out of his work clothes in the middle of the street, and head off.
Now I get to tell you about bachelorette party number one. As we’re walking down the road we see a group of women in ridiculous spandex clothes of bright pink and yellow and green. They looked super jokes. They were a strange assortment of girls. Some looked like they were 40 years old. And I kid you not, one of them was preggers. Like, 6 month Preggers. And they ask us to take a photo of them. And as we’re walking away I get everyone’s attention.
Rooster: Yo, guys. We gotta get Blowfish to take a fucking photo with them! Why the fuck didn’t we?!
At this, TheGodfather, without saying a word, fucking tears off around the corner after the bachelorette party. Picture this. A short dude with a big, grey suit on, sprinting towards a group of colorful spandex-clad girls screaming for them to wait. That’s Super Bowl commercial material.
Now even though, collectively, this was not the most attractive group, they were fucking crazy. Upon asking the girls to take a photo with Blowfish, shit just went bananas. I don’t even know how it got to this. But next thing we know, Blowfish and the bachelorette are standing face to face, holding hands. She has a veil on, with little dicks all over it, which the chicks just procured out of nothingness. And TheGodfather is literally pronouncing them husband and wife. Right there on the side of the road. Luckily for him she was probably the cutest one of them. At least he wasn’t marrying some pregnant chick. And following this one of the girls comes up with the fantastic idea to make him take a shot from the bachelorette’s tits. They weren’t large tits, rather small actually, but they were perky. So it’s all good. Nobody has any alcohol on them, so one of the girls runs up to her, and pours water into the shot glass. Well, to be specific, she dumped water all over her tits, and some of it got in the shot glass. But none of us were complaining. Fantastic way to kick off this motherfucking night.
Fastforward to dinner. We all eat a boss ass dinner at this Italian restaurant that I don’t remember the name of, whatever, it’s irrelevant. What becomes relevant is what occurs next. We’re all outside the restaurant waiting for Blowfish to come out. And out comes bachelorette party number two. These girls were FUCKED UP. Like, I don’t just mean intoxicated, I mean Fucked the Fuck up. Fucking screaming and being all insane and shit. We convince the bachelorette to hide at the side of the door, with some big blow up baseball bat that she’s carrying around.
Now I need to put something into perspective here. Blowfish has been safely drunk for an hour or two. Tipsy at least. And I never told him this, but I realized that the drunker this guy gets, the louder his speech becomes. He doesn’t know this is happening either. So the entire dinner anything he would say was rather loud. And when this chick jumped out at him and smashed him with the bat, he fucking yelled. It scared the shit out of him.
So the girl starts slamming him with the bat. And starts screaming something so fucking funny. And I had no idea what the fuck she was screaming it for.
CrazyBachelorette: PEARL HARBOR! PEARL HARBOR!
She was screaming it over and over again with her high pitched screech and her french accent. I fucking died. Later on Hurley told me he told her to do this cause Blowfish is Asian. Fucking guy. And as she’s doing this one of the other girls comes up to Blowfish, We’re gonna call her, EvenCrazierThanBacheloretteGirl. And she’s also screeching at the top of her lungs.
At this point everything is mayhem. I couldn’t tell you a thing anybody was saying. Because in my head, it’s just a mass of screeching like barbarian warrior women from the fucking jungle. Like fucking Xena Warrior Princess. And the more I try and bring it back the more funny it’s getting. CrazyBachelorette is still wailing on Blowfish with the bat. And EvenCrazierThanBacheloretteGirl fucking tears off his shirt. Seriously, it came off so fast I would have believed that he wasn’t even wearing one in the first place. And from there she proceeds to get on her knees, undo his belt and pull down his pants. We all were genuinely convinced that this crazy girl was gonna blow him right fucking there in front of the restaurant. It was crazy as shit.
She didn’t end up doing it, but fuck my face was it jokes. They were good sports these crazy girls though. After all this they gave the guy hugs and then ran off down the road. I think they actually just fucking ran away. I can’t say for sure. Blowfish had a few words to say about the matter. I’m going to type it in caps since he was still drunk, and therefore still yelling.
Blowfish: I THOUGHT THEY WERE FUCKING HOOKERS. I TRIPPED FUCKING BALLS. I SERIOUSLY THOUGHT YOU HIRED HOOKERS TO BLOW ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. BUT THEY’RE JUST ANOTHER FUCKING BACHELORETTE PARTY!? TONIGHT IS FUCKING CRAZY.
Fastforward to one of our oldest pubs. We’ve been going to this place for 7 years. So many memories at this place. Fucking filled with nostalgia. And after drinking there everything Blowfish says is a yell. We buy him shot after shot and he gets Trainwreck drunk.
One of the best things about this bar has always been the bartender. For the first 5 years we’d been going there, it had this bartender. Loud, saucy, hilarious, totally inappropriate. Everything this women said was the funniest it could possibly be. She was always so awesome with us. And she had huge fucking boobs. HUGE. And she knew it, exploited it, and threw it in our faces. Pun intended.
So Boobs hadn’t been there any time that we went there for like two years. Which was a total bummer. I might have cried a little. But I’m not admitting that. So fuck off. Assholes. Anyways. By some crazy act of faith, she was actually there this time. Which blew our minds. And after drinking a significant amount we all get ready to peace the fuck out to our next destination. But as we’re going out Boobs uses her gift to distract the entire lot of us. Which worked, obviously. And she basically MADE Blowfish take a shot out of her tits. And this one was unbelievable. Fuck that other girl with the tiny perky tits. When I saw Boobs standing there pushing them together with a shot in them, I’m pretty sure my eyes shot out of my head like a fucking cartoon. Blowfish is tripping mad balls. And Aces and TheGodfather get to fucking ride a goddamn motorboat on those things. Which they totally didn’t deserve, and I am legitimately jealous about.
So once Boobs let us go, we go to our next bar, Hurley’s. But on the way there. We meet bachelorette party number 5. There were two more before this, but they don’t make a good story. One was a bunch of old bitches. And the other had candy stuck to her dress. Which some of us got to eat.
But this girl. This girl was a knockout. Fucking stone cold fox. And all her friends were hot too. And we see them across the street coming out of a hotel stumbling around and shit. And one of us screams BACHELORETTE, which sends them into fits of hysterics and next thing we know we’re all across the street with them. A buncha hot drunk beyties and a buncha suited up drunk guys.
All of this is jumbled together and shit cause I was fucking wasted at this point. Her friend tells us she has a checklist she needs to complete. First thing being, she needs to exchange clothing with a guy. So Blowfish takes off his shirt, and puts on this red sash that she had on. Which looked super gay, but super jokes.
Another thing on her list was to find someone with a condom, which turned out to be me. I gave her a condom, and she blew up that condom in the middle of the road. She wasn’t very good at it either. But again, like many other times in the night, we’re not gonna fucking complain. And then she got Aces to practice walking down the aisle with her. And then she actually had TheGodfather undo his shirt. And she yanked out his chest hair. Not just a lock of hair. It was like a fucking handful. And she was entirely disgusted with herself. Imagine being someone on the sidelines, watching a huge group of drunkass fucks doing all this. Fantastic shit.
So that is the story of Blowfish and his many bachelorettes. Honestly, nobody could make this shit up. When going out for this night, we could never have imagined this crazy shit going down. One of us should get married every fucking month. Goddamn.
That wasn’t the end of the night, we went on to drunkenly stumble through bars and strip clubs. Fucking round after round of beer at Hurley’s. Giving deep speeches and cheersing all around. TheGodfather asking this random older chick who was talking to a bunch of us if she’s 47. She didn’t take that too well.
We Jammed out with a hobo on the side of the road. Singing Pink Floyd and Guns N Roses. FlipSide and Granola totally hit it off with this fucking hobo. And Aces busted out the best fucking freestyle I’ve ever heard in my life. Which we’ll never remember. Unfortunately.
And the strip clubs? Hah. Well. You know.