Look at me!!!!!
Anyhoo, we did get our pick together. Here's a few pics of tent regulars.
For some reason that weekend, the music at the tent began to change from a let's party to a more let's dance. And next thing you know we are all dancing. I mean everyone, from my sister and her college friends to my grandmother. We danced for an hour or so. You doubt it? Look even Scottie Too Hottie got down with people.
I did feel a slight bit of apprehension when I looked over and saw Scottie Too Hottie dancing with the sister. That's always a scary sight. We almost need to put up signs around saying "Beware folks, Scottie Too Hottie's on the loose."
Here's a pic of the sister taking a pic of S2H and a dance partner. Mailbox Mike tried to include himself in the best way he could. He gave bunny ears. Nice.
The next weekend I drove to Little Rock to catch a plane for a wedding in Houston. An old pledge brother who is from Houston was getting hitched to a very sweet girl. I had to be there. For the purpose of this post, we'll call him Bearcat. I've known Bearcat since I was a freshman in college around age 18. It was a blast. I tried to take pictures along the trip. Most of them are crap, but I have several worthwhile ones that I have to share with you.
I took off work Friday of that weekend. Problem was that I had started a few good nights of drinking Wednesday night with some friends. Of course that continued through Thursday night which was Halloween night. I never got any pics because I got all the way to the Lord T and Eloise show at Newby's before I realized the camera was at home. I will say I had a great time and didn't get home until well after 3am. What was my costume? The 40 year old virgin, post-wax. So you can tell how little sleep I had before I had to drive all the way to Little Rock to catch a plane. I did pass several tanks being hauled across the country. Here's a pic:
That weekend Steve Spurrier and his Fighting Cocks of the University of South Carolina were playing at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville (pronounced "Fa-yaeatte-ve-yille"). The Gamecocks are known for having a fan base who travels in large groups.
Anyhoo, I caught the plane to Houston and hung out for a few hours until it was time for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. I wasn't in the wedding party, but I was invited because Bearcat and I are good friends. Plus I'm sure they needed some sort of entertainment at dinner. We dined at a nice little Italian restaurant in the midtown area of Houston. There was cocktail hour on the patio beforehand. We had assigned seating at the tables and someone screwed it up...I think. Another friend of ours, TR, was seated at the table on the right side of the room while his wife had a seat on the left side of the room. There was a blank card next to TR which I found out was for me. I'm not going to let a man and his wife sit across the room from each other. She sat with TR, and I jumped down at a table where I didn't know anyone. I sat with several friends of the bride (whom I didn't know before dinner) and the cousin of the groom (also whom I didn't know). After a few moments of awkwardness we began to discuss...well, mostly the kind of BS you discuss with strangers at a rehearsal dinner. We started telling wedding stories. During this time, I noticed a slight variation in the group at our table. The majority of them (friends of the bride) were fresh out of college around the ages of 23 and 24. They had switched from their beers at the bar to the wine at the table (I took a sip and chose not to partake in the wine). The rest of the table, i.e. the groom's cousin and me, were older. I am 28, and she is...I'll be polite and say in her 40's. She stuck with her steady flow of Dewars and ice. I had a nice stream of vodka tonics in front of me. The funny thing was the "younger" crowd at the table was getting drunker faster than we were. Overall I don't think I could have had more fun at any other table. I told stories. I laughed at other's stories and jokes. Had an absolute blast.
At one point during the meal I see out of the corner of my eye, the bride's family looking at our table. They were pointing at me. You see, the bride met me once before this weekend at an Ole Miss football game at my tent. It was after the game and late in the afternoon so I knew she probably couldn't pick me out in a crowd. Her family was obviously asking her who was this guy that they didn't know. Which one of her husband-to-be's friends was this? Was he one of the wild ones they heard horror stories about? I turned to the groom's cousin and did a mock impression of the bride's family. I covered my mouth as if I were whispering to her and began pointing at each of them. They quickly showed their collective embarassment and tried to hide the fact they had been pointing in my direction. The groom's cousin and I got a big kick out of it.
After dinner and dessert, the party returned outside to hear toasts and then a slideshow of the bride and groom throughout their lives. It was really cool. After all that, the younger generation divided up to head out into the Houston area to continue our intake of libations. One group consisting of most of the guys (with a few of their wives) and the groom were heading to one bar. A second group consisting of the bride and all her college girlfriends were going to a bar called the Armadillo Palace. Guess where I went? Yeah, a few of the bridesmaids from my table grabbed me and said "you're coming with us to the Armadillo Palace!" So I piled with too many others into the back of a Toyota Four Runner. So here here I am in a suit and tie climbing into the back of an SUV like a drunken college freshman. Amazing how much I had regressed in one night. Or some might say I didn't regress that far. Anyhoo, as always, I had the camera ready for your viewing enjoyment:
At least I wasn't alone when I was crammed into the back of the 4Runner. My question is, do you think we could get a little more smile out of these two? There's too many teeth in that pic.
Bringing the shocker to Texas. I rock the shocker; they rock the horns and show gang signs.
When we pull up to the Armadillo Palace, there is a giant metal armadillo statue out front. Giant as in over one story tall. There was a damn good band playing real country music, not that fake shit that Nashville puts out. Sorry I didn't get a better pic of them.One thing I learned in college is that Texans are a proud people. They love their state. The rest of us love our regions. Texans have way too much pride. Need examples? Glad to help:
A lone star bathroom sink (notice the stars in the bowl)
The bar had Texas shit all over it. Here's a flag celebrating the different countries that have claimed Texas.The only disappointment about this bar was they didn't have a mechanical bull.
One of the things I learned while I was at this bar (besides the fact I can drink most of these folks under the table) was how to two step. Of course I have since forgotten it, but one of the bridesmaids was really enthusiastic in showing me how. Here she is.After a few of the folks were carried out of the bar to cabs, I hung out with bride and maid of honor. I'm not sure exactly what I was trying to get them to do, but they definitely were there to entertain.
After the bar finally kicked us out, I caught a ride back to the hotel with the bride and maid of honor. Of course I had to visit Taco Cabana on the way to the hotel. If you ever go to Texas, there are two fast food places I recommend: Taco Cabana and Whataburger. Both are open 24/7 and serve better food than you can ever imagine. Taco Cabana is what Taco Bell would be if they actually served real food.
We get back to the hotel with our TC and plop down in the lobby bar to eat it. For some reason the hotel's bar closed at 11PM while the real bars in town closed at 3AM. So we had all this food to eat but no libations. I went into the hotel shop behind the front desk to get some waters. What did I find but beer in the fridge. I politely convinced the girl at the front desk that we drink these beers before they go bad. She was kind enough to let us. We opened our beers, finished our TC, and said good night. Honestly, I think I had maybe a sip or two from the beer. I was so done drinking that I didn't need anymore.
The next morning I awoke with a wonderful hangover. I couldn't find a way to cure it in my room. I didn't have any aspirin or anything. I just slowly drank water until I got a call from one of the groomsmen. The groom's family was taking all the guys (and some of their wives) to Armadillo Palace for food, beer, and some pool. Like I always say, "the best detox is retox." We returned to the scene of most of the crimes from the night before and force fed greasy hamburgers to ourselves. After a few bloody maries and beers, the general mood of the group lifted as our collective hangovers drifted away. We watched some college football games while playing pool and shuffle board. The restaurant finally kicked us out just before 4 that afternoon because they had a private party coming in for the evening. As we walked out, I saw the party planners setting up this mechanical bull. I exclaimed how disappointed I was; I had been in Texas for just over 24 hours and I was finally seeing my first mechanical bull. I said I was unhappy because I was probably going home without the opportunity to ride the mechanical bull. The rest of my group really started to laugh when I said that coming to Texas and not riding a mechanical bull is like going to Hollywood and not sleeping with Paris Hilton.
That night we went to the wedding, and it was beautiful. The reception was at the Petroleum Club at the top of the Exxon Building in downtown Houston. Here's a view of the skyline including the Toyota Center where the Rockets were playing a game:
I had a great time at the reception. The food was great except for the weird purple mashed potatoes. What was up with that? We danced and drank and laughed. Here's a pic of the single girls reaching for the bouquet:
There were only two girls who really were after it. It seemed like the rest were shying away from the bouquet. My kind of crowd. Of the two girls who were hunting for the bouquet, there was the first girl who actualy caught it. We'll call her the friendly bridesmaid. The other girls obviously didn't catch it. We'll call her the drunken, angry bitch bridesmaid (that's a fitting title for that night). When the friendly bridesmaid caught the bouquet, the drunken, angry bitch bridesmaid snatched it from her, stumbled a few steps backwards, and threw the damn thing back in the friendly bridesmaid's face. Hey! Here's a pic of her not long after that:
She passed out in the chair. It was probably a gift from heaven because after her stunt on the dancefloor, she was shunned the rest of the night. When she did try to be conscious, she would make futile attempts to speak to anyone in the vicinity. Of course her tone had a viscious, angst ridden bite and her words were so slurred that all you could decipher was "hey you." It almost made me want to say "honey, grab a cup of coffee and some guy or girl to help you work out this pinned up frustration. Are those words too big for you right now? Ok, then go get some." But I didn't know her or really care. So I walked away shaking my head.
For the final two hours of the reception, the younger generation had an ongoing debate over where we were going for the afterparty. Like I said this was a two hour discussion. Half the crowd wanted to go to bar A. Then it was bar B. Then some people wanted to go to a club. You know what kind of people you find at a club? Watch the new haircut video again. More than half us were against that idea. So this fuster-cluck continued. After the first hour, I hit a wall. I mean bad. I was tired and I really didn't want to deal with a bunch of ADD drunks who wanted to do this, then 30 seconds later wanted to do this. Now before we left one of the guys from Mississippi showed his dance moves to prove that we didn't need to go to a club, but to a bar:
Imagine Chris Farley dancing by himself and that's what it was like. We all went down to the bottom of the building and after we concluded that we were going to a certain bar, this one girl said she wanted to go somewhere else. So it continued. It was at this point that I lost my patience. I said goodnight to the group and explained that I had sobered up too much in the last two hours to start all over again at a bar. Despite their whining I headed back to the hotel which was only a few blocks away.
I'll spare you the whole story, but the walk to the hotel was interesting. If you've never been to Houston, it's a warm town almost year round. And seeing as there is a good climate, they have a large homeless and bum population. It is not nice. On my way to the hotel, there was this woman about a hundred feet behind me stumbling down the sidewalk. She was rambling out loud, obviously high. All of a sudden I heard certain words coming through clearer than others. Now I'm going to shorten the curse words, but you can get the idea: "GD white boy in his GD MFing tuxedo. Thinks he's hot shit. Yeah F you..." Then she trailed off again into incoherent words. For the record she also was white. I looked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't right behind me or anything and saw some of the folks from the wedding party driving towards me. They slowed down and drove me the rest of the way to the hotel. I don't think the bum woman was going to do anything to me, but I was thankful I didn't have to walk the rest of the way looking over my shoulders.
The next morning I packed and caught a cab to the airport. I really wouldn't mention this, but I did capture a pic of the greatest mullet of all time:
How awesome is that?
Well that's all I've got for now. I'll try and get another post up soon to bring us to the holiday party season. I have a great video that I may just put up out of chronological order. Actually I think I'll just let that be a teaser for it.
Have a good one and don't get none on ya.