Old Money and Loose Morals… Pt. 3…

16 05 2010

By the way, if you’ve missed parts 1 and 2, make sure to click the numbers to catch up….

With that being said this blog is a little bit more vulgar than one may be used too… so fair warning.

RPG, JP, me, and RPG’s friend all took off from Joe’s to this Irish bar. It was a cool place, and on any given night I would have loved to have stayed there and drink some more casually. However on this night, I was looking to do serious damage to my liver, and potentially sleep with some random slut I found at a bar.

So we were on the move again. We had decided to walk our way to a bar called Whiskey’s. Along the walk RPG figured he needed to pull out some more cash so we could continue on killing our liver with copious amounts of booze and more than likely a pizza at 2 am. (The 2 am pizza has become a particular favorite Boston tradition when I venture out there. It’s been known to happen to have 4 guys demolish 2, yes thats right 2, extra large pizza’s at an ungodly hour of the morning.)

At the ATM vestibule, JP couldn’t help but notice a rather stunning blonde prancing around in some insane heels. I can’t really say I noticed at first because I was busy staring at said blonde’s ass. But then, I caught sight of them, and it just came out. I couldn’t really help it. I had been drinking. I noticed the heels, and thus replied, “those are cute. A girl I dated has a pair of those. They were hot.” I can’t say I tried to stop it. It just came out. Like gay word vomit. JP laughed and asked if I knew where she got them, to which I said no. And in all honesty I didn’t know where she had gotten them. Which doesn’t save my masculinity by any means. I offered to call the girl and ask where she gotten them, but I must not have been drunk enough, because when JP told me to do it, I realized at that moment it probably wasn’t the best idea for me to be call this particular girl. High five drunk me!

We carried on to Whiskey’s. At this point in time, I felt it was time to do some serious damage. RPG got the first round of drinks and we were happily on our way to getting just smashed. Whiskey’s is themed like a country/western/biker bar and so the girls dress accordingly. Slutty. Which is pretty much what I like anyway. We found a spot in the bar to post up in, and our waitress (who wore jean cutoff shorts and a wife beater, class.) came up and got our drink order.

At about this point in the night, things took a turn… I ordered some German Chocolate Cake shots and somehow we got on the topic of porn. I’m not sure how things got there, but they did. Wait, never mind, I do know how we got on to the topic of porn. In fact, I know the exact porn technique we talked about and how it came up.

You see, back in college RPG and I had some pretty colorful terminology. Part of this may have been because we drank a lot and our vocabulary went right out the window. The other part could have been because we were 20 something year old dudes, that really had no particular place where our language would need to be cleaned up. So, I’m not sure who coined it first (I did) and I’m not sure why we continued to say it (cause it was funny) but back when something was incredibly crazy, or some said something that was unbelievable, or something/someone was getting screwed by the man, RPG and I would usually say….

“Are you fist fucking me!?!?”

Class. 24. 7.

So on this particular night, one of us had said something that I couldn’t believe and I replied, “are you fist fucking me!?!” To which JP laughed and shook her head. She then made a vital mistake… one that more than likely cost her innocence. JP exclaimed… “I don’t think that’s possible.” Now, back in the day without technology this would have gone unnoticed or left alone until it could be proven at a later date. Say with a joke birthday gift from the porn store. However, in this day in age, all three of us guys had iPhone and we decided to prove (scientifically of course) that indeed fist fucking was possible. RPG did a search, (which to be honest took a lot less time than I thought) and boom, there it was. Actual video proof, that not only was fist fucking possible, it apparently could be done with more than one fist.

(On a side note, I can’t say I’ve actually seen a porn with fist fucking in it. Now don’t get your panties all in a bunch, I like my porn as much as the next guy, but really I have my limitations. Guy and girl, girl and girl, 3 ways, those are more my thing. You start adding extra curricular to the porn I am out. I like my porn to be a little more wholesome thank you very much.)

JP handled the affair with class and dignity, and maybe a little bit of awe. Who’s to say. After watching the video, we took the shot and got another round. However, it must be said, that these were the WORST German Chocolate Cake shots I’ve EVER had. And I’ve had my fair share of these shots my friends. They were terrible. And for some reason, the Bartender didn’t sugar the rim. I LOVE A SUGARED RIM!!! So of course I told the group that this bartender sucks, because he “left out the sugared rim!” (ps, for those of you keeping score at home, that TWO times I’ve emasculated myself on this night. And sadly, more to come.)

We continued to have half decent conversation about who knows what. This is where things begin to get a bit fuzzy. JP wasn’t feeling great after the poorly made GCC shot, (nor was anyone else for that matter) so we decided to call it a night. RPG’s friend took off and went who knows where. RPG, JP, and I all hopped into a cab to make it safely home to RPG’s. At one point, on the way home it was mentioned we wished the cabbie would put on some awesome tunes for us to get us home. He either didn’t hear us or didn’t want to have a taxicab confessions night complete with karaoke. At this point, JP busted out her iPhone and we began singing the hits. Not well of course, but that didn’t matter. And then it happened….

Baby. by Justin Bieber.

I may loose some readership for this, but I really like this song. And I’m being 100% honest and serious. I love it. I don’t know what it is. It’s pure pop crap, but it gets me every time. Like, every. Fucking. Time. I’d like to think that admitting this would get me laid. You know, cause of the whole honesty angle. Then I realize that chicks aren’t always all about the honesty angle. They’d rather you keep a secret like that deep down, and never speak of it again. I figure this is apparently why I’m single, but ladies, if you’re looking, I am an honest guy, I just happen to have a thing for really catchy pop music. (I can’t help it.)

(ps, This is by far the most emasculating thing I can admit. Strangely enough, it’s also the 3rd for this trip.)

JP and I karaoke our asses off in the back of that cab (complete with me trying to do the Ludacris part). It was pretty fucking sweet. I’m pretty sure at this time, RPG was looking out the window trying to count the minutes till it was all going to be over, like the rape scene in Shawshank Redemption.

The cab dropped of JP, and we made our way victoriously back to RPG’s. Where… we ordered pizza. And it was good.

Sunday morning/afternoon, we got up because we were invited to brunch over at KC’s house. It was also Easter sunday, and the Opening day for the Red Sox. Which we would be attending later that evening. KC had worked all morning long and made a wonderful feast for us to help ease the hangover that some of us had. I wasn’t so much hungover as I was dehydrated so I started off the morning with a mimosa. Which I don’t normally drink, but hey, when in Rome. Once the meal was all cooked we moved our party out onto the Veranda and continued to drink mimosas and have brunch. Not going to lie, it was pretty freaking awesome. Mimosas on the veranda remind me of this video….

Makes me laugh every time. After brunch, it was so insanely nice out that everyone decided to head down to the park and drink. Those who know me, know that I’m not really one for lounging outside in parks and shit, but we brought a ton of beer, and well, I didn’t drive. So down to the park we went, where we saw one of the worst egg hunts in the history of egg hunts. The worst part was it was a group of 20 something’s obviously still high/drunk from the night before. Left like 10 eggs laying around. Of course, none of use went over to get one of the left over eggs, for fear there were used needles or heroin inside the eggs. Plus, we were to busy drinking beers from Red Cups.

After our adventures on the veranda, we continued back to KC’s house were her and her boyfriend BBQ’d their asses off. Not going to lie, it was good to get some more food in me, because not only was I one mimosas, and 4 beers deep, but I had also been out in the sun, which accelerates my hunger/grumpiness/drunkeness. We continued to drink and eat and generally have an amazing day. Little did we know the day had just begun, along with all the awesomeness.

WE made it back to RPG’s house, and we took a minute to change and get prepared for our trip to Fenway Park. Which, really just means we went back to RPG’s and took a shot or two for the ride down to Fenway. The atmosphere was electric around Fenway Park that night. It was opening night, the Yankees were in town, and RPG, and I were getting ready for an unforgettable night. (sort of.) They unfurled a HUGE American flag on the Green Monster to begin the game. Which was a site to see in and of itself, however, the bigger sights came just moments later. The PA announcer geared us up, and announced that PEDRO FUCKING MARTINEZ was home in Fenway Park throwing out the first pitch! I knew we were in for something special and I was not let down.

For the 7th inning stretch, Steven Fucking Tyler of Aerosmith came out and sang God Bless America with his daughter. That was pretty effing cool. I mean Steven Tyler was still alive. Who knew. I was texting with JDub during most of the game as she was at home watching on ESPN. I told her all the cool stuff that was going down, and she half jokingly said, “if Neil Diamond comes out, you can die happy.” to which I replied, “I know right. And then, the most awesomest thing ever happened. NEIL FUCKING DIAMOND came out to sing Sweet Caroline with the Fenway Faithful.

NEIL FUCKING DIAMOND!!!

The whole place went insane. It was an amazing site to see and hear, and what a night of Awesomeness. Pure, unadulterated, awesomeness. And yes, I could probably die happy, however, I’d at least like to have sex one more time. Just sayin.

The night ended on an amazing comeback by the Red Sox and we left Fenway park just insanely happy. Tradition has it, that we roll over to the Cask N’ Flagon, but on this night, things were a bit different. We chose to go over to the Bleacher Bar (which has an amazing view of the Fenway outfield because it’s under the grandstands) T’was my first visit to the bleacher bar, and unlike last time where I celebrated Irish Wake Style, we were in full celebration mode, which meant, 5 jack and cokes in at little over an hour. We closed down Bleacher Bar with some other rowdy Sox fans and made our way back to RPG’s via a cab.

On the way home, we both decided to get some food, and of course we came to the conclusion, pizza. However, this was Sunday night, and not just any Sunday night but Easter. RPG tried to get ahold of the pizza place but any rational person would have known they were closed already. So RPG had the driver drop us off at a gas station, because back in college RPG and I feasted on the bag of chips for 99 cents that you covered in processed melted cheese. Ahhh the good life. However, the gas station was also closed, and I found myself needing to pee. Now, to be completely honest the next few events were really fuzzy.

All I really remember, was being in some alley, and RPG shouting my name, because I took it upon myself to find somewhere to pee. Mission accomplished. However, being in a dark alley, may not have been the smartest drunken mistake of my life. (But shit, since I’m writing about these events I’m obviously ok. High five drunken me!)

We settled in back at RPG’s, and I’m not sure if we ever got any food or not. I don’t really even remember the last 2 hours of the night. All I know was the Sox won, Neil Diamond sang at Fenway, and I was there. It was one of the best trips of my life. And worth every single minute.

After I touched down in Portland after the best trip I’ve taken, I couldn’t help but think, this was exactly what my grandpa had in mind. Cheers to you Gramps.

and ps, how awesome am I that I can have Fisting and Justin Beiber in the same blog?? Awesome.
ps again, I’m not exactly sure how awesome Gramps would have thought that last statement was.

Until Next Time…

Email Me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

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