"They Are Watching Us"

I have somehow managed to survive weekend number 4 in the 4 weekend drinking marathon that has become my life in August 2009. Wisconsin Dells was a pretty cool fucking place to get drunk. The drunk bus that took us around free of charge was a fantastic touch as well. I managed to stay within budget somehow, and not get divorced in the process, which is a plus.

The only complaint I had about the weekend was the Nazi golf rangers that stalked us for the first three holes at the course we golfed at on Saturday. Perhaps it was that Richard and I were like 20 minutes late for our tee time. Perhaps it was that even though we were late, and the ranger was staring at us in disgust, we took the time to shove a case of beer into our golf bags right in front of him. Perhaps it is that we clearly sucked at golf. Whatever it was, it was annoying. Soon they went away, and a everyone got drunk. The round culminated in a sudden death playoff with another team after we choked away a one stroke lead on 18 in our best ball tourney. After we both birdied 18 (and ruined a wedding in the process) was lost on some bullshit putt off. Good thing we never paid up on the bet we lost.

So back to this wedding. Some moron (probably a FIB because there were somewhere in the neighborhood of 200,000 of them in the Dells this weekend. Why do they insist on coming to fucking Wisconsin?) decided it was a good idea to have an outdoor, Saturday afternoon wedding at a golf course, a mere 200 feet from the 18th green. As we are coming down the fairway on 18, we could hear vows being exchanged. Then someone (I think Sports Bottle) shafted one very near the crowd assembled at the wedding, and someone else knocked one off the bar and grill that was right past the wedding. We found the ball I would guess about 150 yds past the bride and groom, who were STILL giving their vows. These were seriously the longest vows ever. Then Sports Bottle hits a ridiculous shot from 75 yards out off this hill right next to the wedding, to get withing 5 feet or so of the hole, and leaving the team with a birdie putt. About 10 people screamed when he plunked the shot on the green (still vows happening). Some douche in a tux comes over and yells at me that "There is a wedding going over hear if you didn't notice. Do you mind?" My response should have been, "well there is a fucking golf match going on here, so can you keep that shit down over there? I'm trying to putt." But I didn't because I am a huge vagina. But it really took some fucking nerve to take that ridiculous position.

After golf, we went back to the hotel, ate, got more drunk, watched the Packers dismantle the Bills, and headed out to the bars/Crusin' Chubby's (which gets high marks). I don't honestly remember a whole helluva lot from the bars. Or afterwards. Schmock was forced to wear red suit pants and a leather vest. He insisted on wearing a t-shirt underneath.

All I know is that the room was fucking trashed in the morning, and if someone doesn't get a bill out of this, I would be shocked. I'm going on a limb and saying it was the worst shape I've ever seen a hotel room in. I was huddled next to the cum stained wall (I don't believe any of us came on the wall, but it is a hotel room, so there is dried up semen everywhere) on the floor, on top of my hat, on top of someones backpack, with my shoes on, and someone else's pillow. The bathroom was covered in vomit backsplash and vomit soaked towels. There was probably an inch of shit on the floor from various chips and crackers. Outside, there was a pile of hotel issued blankets, sheets and pillows covered in vomit. Also outside our room: one wet sleeping bag (which may have been wet with vomit or urine), about three tipped over coolers, a whole bunch of empty cans and bottles and shot glasses. Oh, and there was a hookers' severed leg shoved behind the TV (I couldn't find the rest of her).

The ride home yesterday sucked. And just because you had a bachelor party, doesn't mean you have to get married.