when the weekend comes in the middle of the week
...fast forward to the part where sto and I roll up to the airport. in time to be escorted into separate private rooms and be hand rapped during a deep body cavity search. after that horrible experience we proceeded to burn through drink vouchers faster than cheech and chong can cash a bowl. the three screwdrivers I had on that 45 hour flight really helped me put the bungular pain I was left with after my ass flower had been picked was taken to bed.
we met up with the stacyXpress after I retrieved my clubs from the baggage claim. my new found hottess was recognized by stacy and kacy because they were tossing mardi gras beads through the sun roof even before the car came to a full stop. a true testament to my new 50 cent regimen; that of sippin' on some crissss and having a thang for that gucci, that fendi, the prada...that bcbg, burberry, dolce & gabbana. and their friends like my style, my smile and the especially the way I talk.
ryan was at the reigns and he chauffeured us to the "Weizzy" hotel to look at the presents they and received, but everyone knows it was a guise for me to drink all their beer. 4 dudelights later I was given the keys to ryno's car with the intructions to pick up matt s. and his wife. with an hour left to go, sto and I hit up the acme oyster house for some cocktails and some gumbo poopah.
having carried out taxing duties to perfection we were relieved of our post and finally allowed to go the ho-tel of iniquity, the real W. they must have known I was in the house, because they were blasting "p.i.m.p." in the valet bay, the lobby and it followed us into the elevator all the way to my floor. very gangsta like.
once in my room I attempted to take a nap, but was roused out of bed to drink beers at the groom's suite. six or nine cans later I decided it would be a good idea to stop drinking before taking a razor to my face. by the time I was out of the shower nathan had already arrived. he got ready and before we left the room we lifted our dudelights in unison and toasted to all the ladies I was going to seduce and reminisced about [shanniquoa]"remembering the first time I got my pussy ate"[/shanniquoa].
the rehersal itself went off without a hitch. wish I could say that about my bladder and nathan's blubbling gut. I slipped out right after the end of it to run accross the street to find a restroom to unleash my firehouse upon, while nathan split to stock up on some gas-x at the walgreens at the corner. we got left behind like kevin mcallister, bummer. no worries, we strolled down canal st. to hail a cab, and decided to go to the ritz and have the concierge hook us up with a free ride. instead of waiting outside like mere plebians for our limo, we hugetimed it at the french quarter bar on the third floor. the bartender whipped us up a whicked concoction called a "bayou bloody", basically it's a bloody mary garnished with crawfish and shrimp. can you say orgasmic? after slipping into a bayou bloody coma, we came back to conciousness to catch our ride to the rehersal dinner.
after making our grand entrance and greeting moose and deb, and briefly checking the collage of photogs of the bride and groom, I went outside to the balcony overlooking the mighty missussuppuh and asked around to find out who my tablemates were to be. the result: the other debbie with her bootylicious daughters, emily a friend of stacy's from high school (I believe), nathan and some lady that I didn't know. it wasn't so bad but it wouldn't be as fun as being in a table full of single women. at least we were seated the closest to the bar. this is a good thing.
while nathan was being force-fed the finer details of this lady's divorce, I struck up quite a conversation with emily. I'm sure I talked to her about cigars. a lot. my cabeza was fuzzy at this point, but that matter is that she wanted to know which sticks I was packing for the night, and if she could try it with me. houston, we had found ourselves a keeper. but to keep her honest I diverted my attention from her to flex my memory muscle in front of this other girl. honestly, sometimes I should keep stuff to myself lest I scare people with details I remember about them, but they don't recall giving me that information. but they do. I remember it all, and spit it out months, years later to their amazement.
we enjoyed a world-class meal of lobster bisque, and crawfish stuffed fillet. for dessert we were served some sort of cheesecake. thinking about it is making my mouth water. I made it out like a champ because I ate nearly half of emily's and a quarter of ashley's. I guess I did a pretty good job of emulating bacchus by downing a number of glasses of fine. totally came in handy when it was my turn to give my toast. let's just say that a lot of people present saw the orator in me they had not seen before. my toast was absolute tits. delivery, prose, non-verbal communication, and my salutation were t e x t b o o k. I was still getting props for it by random people the next night at the reception. I'm a natural.
the after dinner bar hopping was fun as shit. don't remember much of it, but it involved lots of hand holding, kissing, sharing of drinks but I'm sad to inform that I had nothing to show for when it came time to retreat back to my temporary abode. oh I also remember dripping half of a lucky dog on my hands while I was text messaging AND walking down bourbon street. the surgeon general of festivus recommends you don't do that.
I'll continue this bitch later...
