As of last Monday, Blowfish is married. You already knew this was coming up if you’ve read my previous blog entry. If not, go read it. Fuckerface. So Blowfish is now married to an awesomely awesome woman. Blowfishette is so sweet and she’s the best thing that has ever happened to Blowfish. I’ve never seen him so happy. Although I am legitimately disappointed that Blowfish is not my wife, I think I can get over it. I think it’s safe to say they’re the best married couple ever in existance. Until I get married that is. *Wink Wink*.

But Seriously, to Blowfish and Blowfishette, I wish you guys all the best. Do me a favour and own the shit out of all other married people. If that’s cool with you. Kthxbye.

So moving on, the story of the Blowfish wedding.

Part 1. Morning.

So Chinese weddings are different than the weddings of us normal people. (I’m kidding about the normal people bit, for those of you who are sensitive) To start things off, all the groomsmen need to go to the groom’s house, for something they call pickup games. I’ve never heard of anything like this and I’d be surprised if you have. Basically, the groomsmen and the groom have to do these mad embarrassing things in order to get into the house so the groom can see the bride. Super weird, BUT. It was awesome. And mad fucking jokes.

So the best man, FlipSide, and the rest of the groomsmen; Aces, Hurley, Granola, Remicks and I, all suit the fuck up, and head over there for 930 in the morning. (Remicks wasn’t a groomsmen, he was actually the priest. Hold onto that info for a while, I’ll come back to that later.) None of us had any idea what this morning entailed. So everything was normal, we went about our business, getting ready and shit. The photographers took crazy boss photos of us manly fucking men in our beast ass attire. We were totally pimp. And the photographer was super jokes and kept talking in a british accent. His line of the night being the word “tight”. And Hurley saying some of the jokesest fucking things. Sometimes we don’t even know where they come from.

—    Photographer: Alroight Guys, Lets git toighta Now. C’mon now. TOIGHT!

Hurley: Toight Loike A Potato!

Rooster: What the fuck is tight like a Potato?

Hurley: It sounded good with a British accent.

So to the pickup games. The first game, each of us had to hold a yoga pose for one minute. Aces got the worst fucking one. He had to bend over backwards and plant his hands on the ground. Needless to say, his was not a success. But fucking Hurley DESTROYED. Seriously, looking over at him, he had this weird pose where he was on one foot, leaning forward with his body in some strange position. And he was as still as a statue. If I was a pigeon, I would have landed on this guy. Maybe even taken a shit on him.

After this we had to make a pyramid. Which is self explanatory, and as a story not all that funny. What was funny, was Aces. He was next to me on the bottom of the pyramid, and after we built it, he randomly starts dying. Laughing like crazy and trying to keep it under his breath.

Aces: Dude. Oh my god. There’s like a hundred asians watching us right now. We’re like their white entertainment. I’m tripping so much balls.

For the third game, the bridesmaids gave each of us a diaper containing a mess of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. And our task was to do 10 pushups, and lap up the “shit” out of the diaper every time we go down. 6 fucking guys in tuxes and suits, doing pushups in their front lawn, and eating from a diaper. Everybody was nice and clean though. No mess.

Wait. What? Did I just say no mess? Sorry I’m a fucking liar. I Obviously got chocolate stains on my tie and my fucking shirt. Those of you who know me, would not be surprised by this. Everyone else was fine and fucking dandy, no stains, no mess. But me. Somehow I got it in my fucking HAIR. Needless to say, the Mcdonald’s bib that they gave us for protection didn’t do shit.

So two more relatively embarassing games later, we finally help Blowfish get inside, and see his bride. And she looked beautiful. Good fucking job Blowfish you lucky guy.

Part 2. The afternoon.

So after eating lunch, where the bottomless pit that is Remicks ate the equivalent of a fucking whale shark, we hop in some limos and head off to the Botanical Gardens for pictures.

Getting in this limo was fucking paradise. It was so hot outside in our full tuxes, we almost fucking died. And getting inside, the others won’t admit this, but I’m pretty sure we collectively orgasmed.

To the Botanical Gardens. Though it was totally worth it in the end, this was probably the most uncomfortable I’ve been in my entire life. Midday, outside, and in a fucking tux on one of the hottest fucking days I can remember. All the lucky ass bridesmaids got to wear their damn dresses while us men were roasting. I think there’s a mild possibility that I would have swapped a while with one of them, I think I could have looked rather pretty in a shiny purple dress.

Now as soon as we got to the Gardens, we knew bad times were comin. Crazy clouds in the sky called for a nice downfall of rain. Our best hope was to get all the pictures taken before this happened. Unfortunately for us the sky opened up and just dropped everything it had on us. And we managed to squeeze the 20 of us or so under some kind of random shelter we found. And after a little bit it was pretty fucking obvious that we were fucked, and this rain was not about to let up.

It’s at this point that the photographers and Remicks start trying to convince everyone to make a run for the indoors section of the garden. Which was a decent distance away, and while it may have been possible for us, and maybe even the bridesmaids. This was not a good idea for the girl in the damn wedding dress.

And that’s when an idea comes to Remicks. Next thing I know, Remicks and Granola are taking off into the rain. Their self appointed task? Stealing a giant fucking umbrella from the tables across the courtyard. The few people around were frozen watching these two guys in suits trying to get this umbrella free. In the POURING rain. It took them like 3 minutes to figure out how to get it out. Even some of the employees stopped to watch. It was fucking heroic. I’m gonna hire a bard to sing songs about them all across the land.

So they come back to escort the first group across. And on the second trip, Remicks takes off again while Granola brings the second group. And then fucking Remicks is back in a matter of seconds with a fucking second umbrella. Like I said. Heroic as fucking Thor.

Part 3. The wedding and the night.

Given that the place they had their ceremony and reception was totally fucking boss, obviously the ceremony was beautiful. Blowfish and Blowfishette looked amazing. And Remicks married them.

Yes. Our short Italian Godfather married the two Asians in front of an almost entirely Asian congregation. And wait, I’m not sure, but did I mention he did half of it in Chinese?

No? Well now you know. It was totally boss. And a little bit jokes. Before the ceremony I was with Remicks, Blowfish and one of his cousins, and Remicks was reciting the Chinese part. As you can probably expect, this isn’t the easiest languange for an English guy to learn on short notice. And there was one line he couldn’t get right. According to Blowfish’s cousin, if he had said it wrong, he would have basically said, “They’ve been together for two nipples”.

So he didn’t say that line at all.

So now to the reception. Apparently, the 97 course meal was fucking amazing. I wouldn’t know seeing as I can’t do any kind of seafood. So I basically just ate a bunch of bread. Which meant that I proceeded to get fucking facefloor smashed. Sitting at the table with the groomsmen and Hurley’s girlfriend, one course in and I’m already on my 6th drink.

At one point Aces had the amazing idea to ask the bartender about a drink one of our favorite songs is named after. The drink being Soco Amaretto Lime. Excellent drink. And I had about fucking twenty of them. At least half of these before fucking 8 o clock. Here are a few exchanges involving drunken Rooster.

— While repeatedly hitting a bunch of dangling tear drop shaped ornaments on the lamps.

Rooster: THESE THINGS ON THE LAMPS LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF BALLS.

Granola: Dude you’re fucking drunk.

I get up and run to other tables.

Rooster: THESE LAMPS HAVE BALLS. LOOK AT THE BALLS!

— For some reason, at one point we all started singing I Will Always Love You by….what…Whitney Houston or some shit?

Hurley: Rooster, I think you’re singing just made me pregnant.

Rooster: It’s cause I have a really high sperm count in my voice.

Maybe halfway into the meal, we had to do some of our groomsmen duties. This consisted of following the bride and groom and their family and cheersing EVERY TABLE. It was simple really. We had to drink anything anyone gives us. Whether it’s wine, champagne, or fucking rum. And if anybody said the words, “Yam Tsai”, you had to down your entire drink. And as you can imagine, any time Remicks or FlipSide or anyone looked at each other. Yam Fucking Tsai.

It got to a point where we needed refills so often, a waitress followed us from table to table with a bottle of champagne. She had this look of complete astonishment at how fast she was going through bottles. It was fucking hilarious. And we were beast.

Now I’ve already mentioned how awesome the photographers were. On top of that, they set up this photo booth with props and all this shit that anyone can use for free. And it had a huge screen that displays each photo that’s taken for the entire reception to see. Obviously we destroyed that fucking booth. Our group spent at least a third of the reception in there at least. It was some of the most fun I’ve ever fucking had. And I’ve been inside a vagina. So you can take my word for it.

After the Yam Tsai business, we’re back at our table. And Remicks is with us talking some drunken nonsense that I don’t fucking remember. Whatever. And the next thing I know he’s gone. I look over at the photo booth and see a photo of a bunch of chicks, And Remicks fucking right in the midst of them. It’s like he fucking teleported. He was just talking with us 20 FUCKING SECONDS BEFORE. This guy has some fucking beytie sixth sense. If there is a congregation of the opposite sex, Remicks is drawn towards it like a fucking asteroid.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. Random shit happened at random times. Everybody is fucking drunk as fuck from the goddamned open bar.

At one point I come storming into the photo booth screaming.

Rooster: EVERYBODY OUT! I’M TAKING THE BEST FUCKING PHOTO IN THE WORLD!

I was entirely serious about this statement. And nobody seemed to fucking get it. Actually, it’s more likely that everyone didn’t care and wanted to fuck with me. Cause my buddy Yams wouldn’t get out. I remember him refusing, laughing the entire time. And people started throwing shit at me, and taking photos of me nonstop to document my ensuing drunken fucking temper tantrum.

I was completely adamant about this, and I would not leave until the best photo ever was taken. And eventually I succeeded. I haven’t seen it since, but at the time, I was completely overwhelmed with pride. If I remember correctly, I’m centered in the photo, coming towards the camera screaming intensely with my hands balled into fists. Like the motherfucking Hulk. I love myself.

So by now most of the family has cleared out and it’s basically just the younger crowd. So we found ourselves partying with Blowfish’s Asian cousins. And these guys are fucking monsters. Fucking huge partiers. And everyone is entirely fucking drunk. Which was then helped further along by the cousins.

— FlipSide: Bartender! 4 tequila shots.

Cousin: MAKE IT 20!

— Remicks: Could I get 2 rum and cokes?

Cousin: Fuck that. MAKE IT 20!

FlipSide: TWENTY!??

— Aces: Bartender. Gimme what you think I look like I need right now.

Bartender: ………..

Cousin: FUCKING MAKE IT 20!

So again. Just to reiterate. All of us. Smashed.
Blowfish ends up back with us and he is destroyed. Completely fucked out of his mind. And unfortunately by the end of the night, puking his mind out to the world. Apparently his plane ride was not that amazing the following morning.

And at one point I approach FlipSide and he is SMASHED. He’s got his arm around one of the cousins, and I kid you not, this is what he said.

FlipSide: ROOSTER. Rooster! This guy right here! This guy is the understanding of drinking!

What the fuck does that even mean?

Epilogue.

So I was the first to peace out. My ex girlfriend was there with the current boyfriend. And he started having some kinda tantrum. So I was like. Fuck that. Drama starting? I’m out.

So I walked back to the hotel and went to sleep. And about an hour later, I get a phone call that takes me out of my drunken stupor.

FlipSide: ROOSTER! ROOSTER WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!? ARE YOU AT THE HOTEL?

Rooster: The fuck are you yelling for? Yeah I’m at the hotel.

FlipSide: Dooooooooooood. Can you come find me? I don’t know where I am. I’m so drunk.

Rooster: ………

FlipSide: Wait. Waiiiiiit. I see the sign.

Rooster: What the fuck are you saying?

FlipSide: I see the sign for the hotel! I’m good.

Rooster: Alright. Where’s Granola?

FlipSide: Oh my god Granola. Where the fuck is Granola? *Click*

I think I layed there for a couple minutes thinking the same thing before falling back asleep. And when I was woken up again as FlipSide stumbled into the room. I found out where Granola went.

It turns out the motherfucker had a crazy adventure of his own. Him and Aces went with two of Blowfish’s cousins to find an after hours club. But just ended up in china town. They drunkenly ordered 150 dollars worth of fucking chinese food. And they served them beer in tea pots and tea cups since it was 4 in the morning. Which leads to wake up # 3.

It’s fucking 6 o clock in the morning, and I’m woken up by fucking pounding on the door. When I open it I’m completely baffled by the sight in front of me.

Granola and Remicks are standing there. Remicks is holding boxes of food. And they’re both fucking COMPLETELY drenched, still in their suits. Apparently it had rained up a motherfucker while we were asleep. And Remicks was stuck in it all alone for 3 hours. When the China Town group showed up, he started devouring noodles with his hands because there weren’t any chopsticks.

It was a fucking heartbreaking sight. I stood there half asleep without saying fucking anything. Just staring at them. Granola comes in and takes my comforter.

Granola: I’m just gonna fucking sleep on the floor.

I barely got back to sleep when AGAIN, there’s fucking pounding on my goddamn piece of shit fucking door. And I get up and there’s another one of my boys. He was nicknamed Fucker by PornStar back in the day.

Fucker: Dude. I need somewhere to sleep. I can’t drive my car.

Rooster: Uhhhhh. Alright just come sleep in my bed.

And I finally got to fucking sleep. With Fucker next to me, for like 3 fucking hours.

Crazy fucking day.