I was going to keep this video to myself and plan this routine for my own wedding, but being that it would probably delay you people viewing this awesomeness by 10-15 years, I chose to go ahead and share the experience with you fine people while your still young. I’m sorry but this is just too awesome. The groom is obviously the fucking man and his friends have solid rythm for a bunch of white boys. The chicas in this video are sexy no matter what, considering the fact that they’re wearing sunglasses and are willing to break dance down the aisle. If I were a wedding crasher, I would crash the shit out of this wedding because you know the reception had to be the bomb.
Fast forward to the 3 minute mark, this Paula Abdul-esque choreography is superb. The groom rolling out of the middle is fucking priceless and he follows it up with a “yeah, I’m the fucking man” backpeddle down the aisle. All wins in my opinion.
Females, if any of you are down to get married let me know, because I feel like dancin.
Hey good looking American’s. Another yachty weekend is in the books and my gosh was it a doozie. I’d like to thank a lot of people, but most of all, I’d like to thank my friends Ryan and Kerry for falling in love and having a wedding so we could turn Chateau Elan into a jungle gym.
The weekend started out great. We did the whole “Let’s go out for a beer or two on Friday, wake-up early and make an early tee time.” That never works.
Once the good times start goin, we said “F the tee time”, and the next thing I know I’m waking up on my buddies couch with a crick in my neck and a mouth dryer than Lake Lanier circa 2007. Fast forward to 3:30pm and we’re arriving at Chateau Elan, barely missing our 10am tee time. After taking our time and drinking a few cold beers, we were ready for a fantastic night of drinks and dancing with old friends… and their Moms (ow ow).
I walk into the wedding ceremony smoother than Bill Clinton at a single mothers fundraiser. Everyone is all smiles and enjoying the old friends and faces that we haven’t seen since high school. Right after being seated, I get a phone call from a randar number. The person on the other line sounds like a female crying, and I’m thinking to myself this can’t be good. She claims that she is my ex-girlfriend and that she had something very important to tell me. I step out of the room and the girl on the other line that sounded like recycled death tells me that she is pregnant. As you can imagine, my face turned white and my jaw smacked the floor. I apologized repeatedly as I racked my brain wondering how the hell this happened. I assured her that I was willing to do anything to help and told her I called her back immediately following the wedding.
I got back to my seat and told two of my best friends the most devastating news of my life. My anxiety is higher than Jack’s beanstalk and I’m sweating like Chris Farley on a 3 day bender. I was contemplating how f*cked my life is and how the hell this happened because I hadn’t been “talking” to her recently. I then get a text from a certain asshole named Matty Barnwell reading, “Call me now. It’s bad. Everyone knows.” As you can imagine, my anxiety jumped ten fold to the point where I was shaking and about to puke in the middle of a wedding ceremony. FML.
After the “I do’s”, I run outside the room and call the dickhead back that had texted me. He answers and says, “You got punked.” WTF!
I don’t know who the fuck raised this kid, or whether or not they even showed him where “the line” was, but he most definitely crossed it. I wanted to be mad, but I was so damn relieved all I could do is laugh and feel the sensation of my anxiety come falling back down as if I had eaten 13 zanzibars. Honestly, those ten minutes seem like an eternity and probably the worst sixth of a hour I’ve ever experienced. Fuck you Mat, that may have been funny in your fucked up little brain, but I was pregnant for 10 minutes and I didn’t like it. Kudos for the planning though, you knew when the wedding started and where I was at the time. Bad choice of subject matter.
The rest of the night was a reward. We went on to the reception where the yachtiest band in the world was playing. Yacht Rock was there to keep the wedding A-squad, and boy did they keep things smooth. Everyone was dancing like madmen with class, and I managed to drop about 6 Crown and gingers on the dance floor, which always means things are going well. Shout out to Chateau Elan staff for swiftly cleaning up the glass everytime. No one was phased though, they just kept on dancing like they were born to do. It was just like the closing scene of “Slumdog Millionaire”, minus the Indians and the choreography.
Post-reception, the wheels really started turning. The bride and groom sped away in their “Just Married” golf cart, with soup cans following closely behind. My genius self, and one of my most esteemed high school friends, decided it would be totally legit to steal the golf cart. We managed to high-jack the vessel and boy was that a good decision. We ripped up the Chateau like Lindsay Lohan at a table piled with cocaine. We were giving joy rides and we managed to get the golf car on two wheels multiple times. All the while the cans were jingling and the Chateau staff was chasing. I even managed to throw off one of my friends that I really don’t even like that much. WIN!
We marched on to Paddy’s Pub where Jager bombs and freshman year of college antics ensued. We all thought it would be a great idea to go nuts– and we did. One friend of mine puked all over himself and his beautiful girlfriend. She was about as glossy eyed as Latrell Sprewell and was letting us all know that he’s ok “because she’s a nurse”. One friend got escorted home in a wheel chair. Another one of my good buddies even broke his nose, compliments of Don Francois himself. I would go into detail, but all you need to know is that it was in good fun, and that the littlest of paps in the nose can break it. We then put a night cap on the evening by ordering room service– to the lobby. It was like a scene off of Planet Earth where a pack of lions are tearing into a wildabeast carcass, except for it was a group of young men in their twenties hovered around an appetizer sampler. Classay.
I think a text from my friend, whose nose now resembles Owen Wilson’s, sums up this past weekend. It read, “I woke up in my car, I pissed myself, and I have a broken nose…. but I had a great time.” That a boy, way to keep shit positive.
Weekends are for winners, and we won. If you take away anything from this pointless story, I think one might benefit from learning how to pull a prank that is appropriate. Pranks about death, suicide, pregnant ex’s, or rape are probably crossing the line, so prank accordingly.
This guy has managed to actually be more stupid than he looks. I saw an article about this dude in a stall in Florida when I was down there last weekend and I knew it was blogworthy.
This dumb fucker must be one of the stupidest people on Earth. Two weeks ago in Tallahassee, Florida, this man genius went to the drive-thru teller and deposited $200 cash, a deposit slip, a bag of weed, and a small bag of cocaine into the bank. WTF? Are you kidding? This dude must have been whacked out of his brain or just literally the dumbest person to ever drive a car. Honestly, how fucking stupid can you be to put that shit in the canister, look at it, not think anything of it, and then shoot it over to the bank teller?
The teller tipped off the local police that a fucktard driving a white SUV had deposited a misdemeanor and a felony. The really smart guy realized what he had done and went BACK thru the teller line to get back his ganja and nose candy. Much to his surprise, the police were waiting there for him. When asked about it he replied, “If you said that I did it, then I did it.”
Way to play your cards there home slice.
I pray this guy doesn’t have kids.
Come on Rare McNair, you can do better. She looks like the ugly version of the chick from Aladdin, except for she’s not animated and murders people.
Sick crew. Those dudes look like they just got done working the door at Club Boujee. Sweet gold chains dog. You must ball out of control. These chicks look they bartend at “Smurf’s”, and the girl on the right got fired for eating Papa Smurf and his entire family.
This one just screams class. Nice sideburns, Joe Dirt. I love the Aeropostale pants with the sports bra. Classssay. Don’t people always say that people with cats are weird? Nail, meet head.
Alright Ladies and Gents, back to business. Sorry for leaving you their breathless as you waited for the next blog, but I was busy counting money and watching “The Most Interesting Man In The World” Dos Equis commericials. Yes, it took a long time, and yes it was mostly just watching commercials, but damn it this is America. Ok, maybe I was busy with work and went on two different beach trips, but it was all part of the win.
A lot has happened in the past week and I wasn’t there for you and I aplogize. Believe me, I was thinking about you but I was busier than a toxicologist at a funeral home on Neverland Ranch. A bunch of shit went down and I’m going to do a recap of what I can still remember.
- Obviously, Michael Jackson passing away made the most headlines around the world this week. It’s a terrible tragedy and he will be missed. The dude ripped awesome music that nobody could touch. It was a shock that he passed but his life is being celebrated around the world, which is what any entertainer would’ve wanted. Let me correct myself, Michael Jackson surviving until the age of 90 would of been a shock– but it’s a tragedy nonetheless.
- Farah Fawcett died also– I know that she was extremely attractive and that my parents really liked her. I also like names that make attempts at alliteration.
- Billy Mays also passed away. That’s just strange news. The guy was ALWAYS on TV, and I was ALWAYS changing the channel, then they out of nowhere drop a TV show about him? The follow up to is an unfortuately sad death?? Not what I was expecting.
- Steve McNair was shot and killed. Another bizarre and tragic death. Why Steve McNair? I mean, if you said Pacman Jones, Plaxico Burress, or Mike Vick, I wouldn’t be that surprised. But Rare McNair? RIP homie.
- 4th of July was awesome. Woo-whee, I love that holiday. I mean errybody is at the beach, half-naked, and drinking like it’s St. Patricks day. Win. By far the yachtiest of holidays. I think the 4th of July should definitely be scheduled again for next year. It’s a hit.
- Sookie Stackhouse and her fangbanging country ass didn’t show up on Sunday night. WTF. I understand it’s a holiday weekend, but when I’m still hungover from the night before and smoking the devil’s lettuce on a Sunday, I need a side of True Blood.
- A bunch of people I know got engaged. Congrats you happy little lovers. Have fun banging each other for the rest of your lives. JK, best of luck, marriage is awesome.
- Is there anything I missed? Probably, but I did my best.
I’m sorry for leaving you for over a week. I had to take a little hiatus but I’m back in full force and yachtier than ever. Expect plenty of shit that will blow your mind as I play catch up and try to redeem myself.