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Bachelor Party Pt. I

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Thursday, June 2, 2011

Bachelor Party Pt. I

A bachelor party so crazy, it had to split it in two.


I woke up this morning barely able to walk, the lower traverse lumbar that snapped off back in '06 squawking, burning, rendering me scarcely able to walk.  I tip-toed gingerly for some water, dehydrated, ears ringing from the ear drum rattling, bass thumping, guitar crunching rock 'n' roll that played into the night...

Plus I had a terrific headache.  From not drinking enough coffee yesterday. Seriously, my coffee habit is kinda out of control.


I get married in two days.  Again.  And though this is my third go-round, I truly believe it will be my last, or else I wouldn't be doing it.  It really breaks down quite simply.  I loved my first wife dearly, but I was an addict, and she was...afflicted, and under the circumstances of being so young and sick, we didn't have a chance.  The second marriage?  OK.  Straight up mistake.  Had a little voice inside telling me from day one that she...let's just say, was not the girl for me.  I ignored that voice because I needed a new family, it seemed like the next step in a logical progression, and like the slickest used car salesman, she hid the imperfection, mastered the art of deceit, and sold herself really really well.  Que Sera Sera.

But like Stevie sings at the end of High Fidelity, I believe the next time I fall in love, it will be forever.  Duh.  Who doesn't?  And Justine is a sweetheart, drop dead gorgeous, and the mother of my child.  Check, check, check.  But I'm over the fucking bachelor party.

Yesterday, we had Part One of the Bachelor Party.  The Yankees vs. the A's.  And it was a good time.  Because the Yankees won (a special thanks to Rich, who clearly talked to the A's and got them to lose, because otherwise he'd have had a very unpleasant groom-to-be on his hands).  My brother Josh was there.  So too John Reinert, Justine's uncle Jeremy, and Big Tom.  And of course Rich.  Small, quaint, good seats, and some meat in a bowl.

Rich and I went running first in the morning (in a downpour that lasted exactly as long as we ran), and then Big Tom and I went to the city to practice with the rest of the Jews.  Our band, the Wandering Jews, plays a benefit concert at the Blue Mccaw next Thursday.  Which gives me an excuse to link a clip from our last show (the aptly titled "You Weren't Even My Favorite Wife"). Audio/Visual quality not perfect, but it'll give y'all a good idea of what we're up to.

In short, a perfect day.  Not a Lou Reed perfect day.  No zoo.  No overdose.  A Joe perfect day.  Exercise.  Baseball.  Rock 'n' roll.  (I was planning on getting laid too, but Justine got new make-up and wanted to go out.  Just as well.  All that excitement, probably would've been too much for the old man.)

And, fuck, am I old.  I think it was the rock 'n' roll that did me in.  How sad is that? Used to be painkillers just for fun.  Now it's painkillers just to walk.  My hip.  My back.  If I was a fucking horse, they'd have shot me by now.

But today is Day Two of the Bachelor Party, an event so off the hook, it had to be broken down into two parts.  And today promises to be even more hardcore.  That's right.  All-you-can-eat steak.  Our B-Party crew rolls into Espetus in the city at 6:30. We gonna get crunked up on the meat.  Fucking filet.  Fucking sausage.  Fucking pork and chicken and chicken hearts.  All.  Night.  Long.

Best of all, I should be in bed by ten.

Rock 'n' roll, mutherfuckers!


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