Ian's Bachelor Party

Ian and Catherine. Aug 11th 2007.

I’ve known Ian since the first day he beat me up. He and I played Lacrosse against each other in high school. That’s probably when he beat me up, I didn’t know it at the time though. We really met at Skimdore College, once all the bruises had healed and internal hemorrhaging had stopped. Eventually, I ending up living on his back porch in Boston, then down the street from him in Cambridge, then nowhere near him while he was in Raleigh, and then in the room down the hall in Chicago. Then he met Catherine, broke our lease, moved out with me and in with Catherine, and I haven’t seen that same Ian since.

Now, wait a second. I know what you are thinking. “Oh God! This is another one of those, ‘my buddy met a girl and now I never talk to him because she is sucking his free-spirited soul away with a straw made of sledge hammer while tap dancing on his credit rating and holding his balls hostage in a mason jar of formaldehyde.’” No. That is not what I am saying. I know that Catherine is the best thing to ever happen to Ian. She is amazing. She rescued the Man from the Mess and made him a better man. But yes, I do miss the Ian I knew in college and the years beyond; the one that would stay up until 6am drinking lighter-fluid and eating dog food, the one with a scraggly and tangled mess of a beard, with little chunks of breakfast caught in the mustache, the one that would tell endless stories about barfing and farting, the one who could lose any object of any size in his room because the mounds of dirty laundry all over his floor were so deep that they were actually inches above his bed, the one that would sleep til noon and not put on pants til 5pm, the one who received the nickname “SwampThing” due to his odor and cleanliness habbits. I miss that Ian, but that Ian had to die. And had to die brutal gory death. That being said, what death is more brutal and gory than getting your head bashed in with battle hammer of true love and devotion. Catherine wields such a deadly weapon, hell-bent on the gruesome destruction of the dreaded and stinky SwampThing.


Yeah, I miss SwampThing, but now Ian has a job, and uses a razor and wakes up with the sun, which I just can’t seem to ever want to do, and now he has a beautiful and wonderful wife and a bright future full of love and companionship. Way to go, asshole. Look at the examples you’ve set for all your slack ass buddies. You’ve got a house, a dog, a wife, a deck, a back yard, a fucking garage to park your fucking car in so that you don’t get $50 fucking Chicago fucking parking fucking tickets (FUCK!), and you’ve got an all around pleasant odor and demeanor. Fuck off, dude. What’s this douche-baggery? We are not as good at life as you are, fucktard. Slow the fuck down and wait for me to at least get a reason to wake up in the morning, while I still can claim a grasp on youth. You and your fucking happiness.

This is how things went down in the final days of Ian's life as "Swampthing".

We went to Saratoga for the bachelor party, we being Ian (the blushing groom), Brad (a college buddy and fellow trouble maker), Chris (Ian’s brother), Christopher (Catherine’s cousin), Noodle (a 6’6”, 120lb heir to the water noodle fortune), James (a co-leaser with Ian in an abandon building that became known as the Fort) and I (I refuse to submit any details about myself that will be self incriminating). There we partied like idiots, but not before taking an afternoon bachelor party field trip to the local Gelato shop. Do we know how to party or what. After that delicious treat retreat, we swaggered our bachelor-partying-having-selves over to the non-stop madhouse party that is Borders books. I managed to take these quick pictures before things got totally nuts in the periodicals section.

After that exhausting jaunt through an expensive ice cream shop and the whirlwind extravaganza that was the bookstore, some of the boys needed a nap. Holy crap, are we old or what. After emptying out our colostomy bags, pressing our pleated pants, cleaning our dentures and polishing our best penny loafers for a night out on the town, the boys all met up on the porch, where lounge chairs were lounged in, good times were shared, jokes were made at Ian's expense, cigars were smoked...



and Brad was slapped in the face


Then we were off to DA’s for drinks. There, we shot darts, shot pool, shot shots, drank drinks and got all around obliteratedly belligerent. And like all good bachelor parties, things started to get a little homoerotic.









And then Brad got slapped in the face again.

In fact, everyone got slapped.



Christopher seemed to enjoy a bit too much. Look how bright and soft his eyes are. We might have discovered and unleashed the masochist in him.

Rock, the bartender, decided that I needed to be part of my very own wet tee-shirt competition, which I won.


(How bout that sweet mustache, eh?)
I later threw Brad and Noodle over a fence so that they could come in the ‘backdoor’ of the hotel. There was no backdoor to the hotel. Noodle smashed a $150 table with his face, Christopher and I had breakfast at 4am, Brad sucker-punched me in the nose first thing in the morning and I won $15 at the horse track. The hotel has black listed us, as have many of the restaurants, bars and women in Saratoga. What better way to usher out Swampthing and usher in Mr. Merritt than to destroy his reputation, his liver and an expensive hotel room.

And what better woman than Catherine to be his bride. They are amazing together... but I don't think she would have liked us had she met us on Caroline St in Saratoga. What a great fucking party.


Oh yeah, everyone seems to asks if there were strippers or hookers at this bachelor party. Now, we couldn’t let our boy, Ian, join the ranks of the married without getting him his own stripper. At the time, I was told no photography but I managed to shoot one picture during the show. Enjoy.

Bull Balls and Onion Rings

I ate bull balls at a Rodeo. I was no where near as excited as this little lady was, but I couldn't say no to um.


In order for people to eat bull balls, they are pounded flat, fried, and served with shrimp cocktail sauce. Once that is done, they are called Rocky Mountain Oysters. I ate them. They look like this...

I ate them at a Rodeo in Colorado called the Greeley Stampede. I saw kids ride sheep.
I saw belt buckles and bought one with an angry rattlesnake on it. And I ate balls damnit.
So the next time someone tells me to "eat balls" I can tell them I already did, with cocktail sauce.
I also ate Crocodile, but I don't think anyone cares about that. Bull balls, now that's something to tell my grandkids about.

Descent and Water Slides

I had a dream last night that I was protesting the war in Iraq at City Center in Montpelier when the US Army of the future showed up. The US government had become a dictatorship under W and Dick and they decided to send gun ships to attack the 20-30 protesters in downtown Montpelier. The attacked the peaceful crowd with the Millennium Falcon, which really bummed me out because I like the Millennium Falcon. Then they sent in hundreds of paratroopers and handcuffed us all. Someone got shot. We were taken to a water park when the troops were training on waterslides and having an all around good time practicing for war in a water park. Then we had a picnic in a coal mine and played group games with a parachute just like I did in preschool gym class. I think everyone was drinking wine by the end. I should protest the war in Iraq more often.

whoops

I think this is fucking funny.

Let the Media Sit and Spin

Breaking News: Something Happening In Haiti

things to do when you are single

Tonight I'm going out with some friends. One of which is the guitar player in the tin pan ally band, Sons of Susan which I've been playing with for a few months. His name is Nathan. His girlfriend is going to come out tonight also. We are all going to see a band called Sex Fist. They are a bluegrass band, and strictly bluegrass. I'll also be meeting the lead man from a rock band I used to be in, Moxie Motive. I'm going to ask him if I can become his booking agent. So tonight is a double date between Nathan and Katie, and me and a x-bandmate. Last time I talked to this x-bandmate, things didn't go so well and I quit the band and haven't talked to him since. I'm nervous like I'm actually going on a date with him. Fucking musicians. Nothing is ever simple. Should be a fun night. You should check out sexfist.

Tonights quote

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were in my way."
-Alan Carlson

A blog is a sledghammer, if it's any kinda hammer. Maybe it's a jackhammer. Maybe both. Maybe not.

I wrote something depressing the other day. Just a few sentences that crossed my mind, then my fingertips, and froze me for a good 20 minutes as I just read and reread and rereread what I had written.
“You know when you are looking through some old boxes and you find a old photo of yourself smiling innocently at time when you had really tapped into something good, and you can see in that 10-years-ago smile that there wasn't anything coming down the pike at you to be afraid of for at least 10 years or so and now that you're there, you notice that you don't smile like that anymore.”
Not a suicide note or anything, but clearly depressing. It’s the truth in that photo’s ‘then-and-now’ contrast that has thrown doubt into the validity of the standard guidance councilor question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” What the hell did I want to do with my life while I was smiling away like that? Smiling like I didn’t know a damn thing. I wasn’t thinking about taxes, about a job, about the rent or the bills. I was in the here and now right then and there. Think about it. A good day for me used to be getting as many laughs as I could. Now, to get a good laugh, I tell stories about the days when I used to have days that made me laugh. What I’m trying to say is, life isn’t as funny as it used to be.

The blorst of times

Today, I didn't do much. I put away my electric blanket. I paid some bills online. I played a game that involves a monkey kicking a coconut. Check out my high score. Life is hard.
5092 Monkey Meters

Fuck it, mofo. Fuck it.

Fuck it. I like swearing in pubic so I'm gonna do it publicly, on a blog. Publogicly.
Fuckin' fuck shit ass twat cock motherfucker felching douche fist bitch cunt dick fuck monkey fucking asshole licker cock sucker donkey puncher.
Freedom of speech is being taken advantage of by a drunk right now, but remains unscathed. Unity creates ignorance, ignorance is untidy, thus unity needs a diaper and the diaper should stay on for a week, at least! Fuck you, asshole!

Proverbs obsquatched

A fool and his money are soon partying, and if you're early to bed, then you aren't invited.
A friend in need is a mooch.
A house divided against itself is called a duplex.
A leopard cannot change its spots, but if it spots you, it might chew your face off, buddy.
A penny saved is waste of a bank account.
A picture paints a thousand words, but a Madonna made of shit will sell for ten thousand dollars.
A woman's work is never done... I can only get in trouble here... I'm gonna leave this one alone.
A watched pothead says "dude" a lot.
Actions speak louder than words, and a fist up the ass is the loudest action ever.
An ounce of prevention is worth a week of antibiotics and timeless Internet fame
You reap what you sow, and you sell on e-bay what you reap from your relatives during the holidays.
Ask no questions, hear no lies, get no dates, jerk off in the dark, alone.
All's fair in love and war, except for kicking someone in the nuts.
Beauty is only skin deep, but I'm just that shallow.
Better to have loved and lost than gotten kicked in the nuts.
Birds of one feather must have trouble flying unless they share.
Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and be kicked in the nuts.
Blood is thicker than water, but not richer or smoother than Ovaltine.
Cleanliness is godliness, and I steer clear of hubris.
Don't bite the hand that feeds you, unless it is made of prime rib.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, so lube up first.
Don't count your chickens before they are hatched, unless you are selling eggs.
Don't put all your eggs in one basket, unless you only have one egg, or one basket.
Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and a complete waste of time.
Every man has his price, mine is $5 even.
Faith will move mountains, and so will atomic bombs launched in the name of faith.
Flattery will get you laid.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread because angels have no balls.
Good things come to those who have rich fathers
Good fences make good neighbours, but bad feces makes angry neighbors.
Haste makes waste and inflames hemorrhoids.
Home is where the belching, farting, cursing and crotch scratching never stops.
If God had meant us to fly, He'd have taken away those little seat belts on airplanes.
If at first you don't succeed, you're a loser.
If you don't have anything nice to say, blow it out your ass, dick wad.
If life deals you lemons, shit on them and throw them at your angry neighbours.
If you can't beat um, kick um in the nuts, then run.
If you can't stand the heat, live in Vermont for a year.
Blowjobs are the sincerest form of flattery.
In the kingdom of the blind the one eyed man has no depth perception.
Into every life a little rain must fall, unless you live in Antarctica.
It's better to give than receive... a kick in the nuts.
It's not worth crying over spilt milk or dead whores.
It ain't over til the fat lady kills herself from depression.
Keep your chin up and your balls unkicked.
Laughter is the second best medicine, behind morphine.
Love is blind, but I'm not. (see 'beauty is skin deep').
Money talks and bullshit smells.
Necessity is the mother of invention and Thomas Edison was a motherfucker.
People who live in glass houses should be attractive.
Never put off until tomorrow what an intern will screw up anytime.
One good turn deserves another kick in the nuts.
That which does not kill us gives us food poisoning.
There is more than one way to skin a cat, try using a lemon zester.
There's no such thing as a free lunch, unless you are sponsored by lunch.
The way to a man's heart is through his ribcage.
There's always more fish in the sea, but who wants to fuck a fish?
Time heals all wounds, except for mental retardation.
Two heads are better than one, and some head is better than none.
Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do.
When the cat's away I don't sneeze as much.
Walk softly and carry extra underwear.
You can make an omelet without kicking me in the nuts.
You can't teach an old dog to fly.
Youth is wasted on video games.

Rantings of a cold-toed nut-kicker

It makes me mad...
...when the bedroom that has the best view and most space when you rent an apartment in the summertime, has the worst heat distribution in the wintertime when it's eight degrees outside. My toes are gone and I don't know where they've got to.

It makes me mad...
...when all I want to do is go out and enjoy a beer and a game of pool that I know I will lose but there is no one that will go out and beat me in pool and let me buy them a beer because they are all lame. That's right, all my friends are lame. You probably are, too.

It makes me mad...
...when a hardcover book costs $38. $38? I like hardcovers, but a paperback is easier to carry around, fits on my limited shelf space, gets beat up, stained and ripped while being read which only adds to the character of the characters in the book, and costs $25 less. You do know that they just use a bigger font in hardcover books to make it have more pages so that someone will justify spending $38 on it. I tried that bullshit in college once and got half a letter grade off one of my papers.

It makes me mad...
...when a taxi driver you are behind is looking for fares in the middle of a snow storm and continuously slams on their brakes to pick up people that don't want to be picked up, which causes you to go screeching to a halt while praying that the driver behind you is paying as much attention as you were so that you don't get rear ended. Or when a taxi is double parked and pulls away from the curb right as you are passing them and you have to drag race this motherfucker for half a block because you don't want to be behind him when he slams on his brakes again to not pick up someone who doesn't want to be picked up anyway.

It makes me mad...
...when people don't pick up after their dogs because they are grossed out by dog shit. That makes no sense to me at all, and I know three people like that. I yell at them regularly.

It makes me mad...
...when someone sits down at a poker game, says that they will take all your money, proceeds to take some of your money, continues to only talk about how much of your money they have taken, then takes more of your money, brags, takes all of your money, laughs in your face and doesn't give you any money for the beer you bought for poker night so that you could have a good time chatting with your friends about topics other than how little money you have.

It makes me mad...
...when people don't ice their sidewalk. If there is ice on your sidewalk than you are making me mad right now. It's not going to melt for at least another 2 months, asshole. It's winter, figure it out.

It makes me mad...
...when someone I don't like tells stories about me, even if they are good stories. If I don't like you, then you will know it (see the above list) and there is no reason for me to be a novelty or anecdote in your feeble attempt to impress some girl at a bar but telling her how crazy I am when I'm in a situation where I am surrounded by friends and am willing to sacrifice my better judgment for some cheep laughs. Don't drag my actions from that context into you getting some drunk chick to think you're cool because your friends are crazy. I'll kick you in the nuts. Hard.

It just makes me mad...

There's more but I'm going out to a dive bar now to lose to some stranger in pool after driving behind a taxi cause the sidewalk is too icy and too covered with frozen dog shit to walk to the bar and my bedroom is 3 degrees above freezing so I have to go out, warm up my toes and spend money that I don't have because I lost it in poker to some asshole. Maybe I'll just stay in and read a beat up paperback book. If you tell a drunk chick this story, I will find you, tap you on the shoulder and promptly kick you in the nuts. Hard. It's not funny. I will. Wicked hard, too.

Thanksgiving is for the birds

Screw it, there is no need to try to deny it. I missed having Thanksgiving this year. No turkey, no mashed potatoes, no gravy soaked stuffing. I missed out and that bums me out because I love to eat. Then I remembered all the crappy things that have happened to me on Thanksgiving; from family feuds to family deaths from exploding turkeys to tryptophan hangovers. This year, I stayed on my couch in my apartment and watched crappy movies on TV. On the bright side of things, a friend on mine who once invited me up to his house for thanksgiving, gave me a box of booze yesterday. Now I have 4 bottles of very nice red wine, 2 bottles of very nice white wine, and 2 bottles of champagne that I've seen served for more than $100 dollars a bottle. The point is that booze is always there for you, even if turkey and stuffing isn't.

Lasse Gjertsen

So this guy is cool, right?

I stay in bed after elections

I should be working, or eating, or walking the dog today. I am not doing any of these things.

On Nov 4th, 2004, I stayed in bed all day and trembled in fear of having W in the White House for another 4 years. I remember sweating under my blanket, and shivering with cold spells. I didn't get anything accomplished that day. I got out of bed two days after the election.

At 10pm on Nov 7th, 2006, I sat in a dive bar, eating onion rings, sipping PBR, and watching votes come in on a small, poorly color balanced, muted TV directly over the heads of 3 old bluegrass musicians in a dive bar around the corner from my house. Sloppy Joes were only $3 as part of a Tuesday night special. I watched with awe as the Dems won the House, and slowly creep towards the Senate, all to the tune of "My Momma Was a Truck Driving Man" and "Who's That Knocking On My Door (Bad News)" and "I Ain't Broke, I'm Badly Bent." I went to sleep around 4am, slightly giddy about the outcome of the elections. But there was a twinge in my smile, a curl to my lip as I fell asleep, and that twitch came from big corporate money. The Dems won big, that is good. At the moment, they are trust worthy, but that's because they didn't have any power in the House or the Senate, or at least they didn't have enough power to get anything done under the War Hawk talons of the GOP. The thing that gets me is what I heard in passing on CNN while trying to mix a crappy cover band and listen to the votes come in before I gave up and just went to the pub. Corporate America put a lot of money into the Dems this year and will have some pull over the politics of the party, which is not unlike every time a party wins power with the help of corporate contributions, legal or otherwise. Anyone could foresee a shift in power (except for W) and being a large contributor for the right side (read as 'correct side' or 'left side') of politics will have it's benefits; and I'm not talking about a thank you letter or gift certificate to Bed Bath and Beyond. So what will happen? Will we see the tax cuts that W put into effect left in place until the Dems lose power again? Will there be accidental tax or environmental loopholes for the contributors to find and exploit? Most likely, yes. The Democrats have Legislative power. Power corrupts everyone. Corruption fucks lil' people like you and me (unless your not as little as me at which point I think you're lost on the web. Go back, man. Go back!). Corporations pour money into a political party that will gain power. That money buys political pull for the Corporation. Policy swing towards money. So, the money I don't have makes my life harder because the people who spent the money I don't have on a political party are gonna fuck me over once the money that they spent starts working for them. It all boils down to the fact that I just don't trust anyone, which makes me nervous. So nervous that I stay in bed after elections.