Friday had came faster than Derek the first time his butthole was touched by another man, and I decided actually showing up to work for once would probably be in my best interests. My boss is a fucking dumbass, but even he is starting to see through my lies. He had begun acting suspicious the fourth weekend in a row that I had called in sick due to reasons regarding my Parkinson’s disease. Not only has my boss never received a doctor’s note from me discussing this “illness”, but also has yet to catch onto the fact that I only suffer from symptoms of it on Friday nights, which coincidentally is wet T-shirt night at the Redneck Yacht Club. Brantley Gilbert was in concert at the casino where I work that night and some how I got stuck taking tickets at the doors. There is a shit-ton of nasty people in the casino on a daily basis, but mix in alcohol, and red dirt music and the amount of disgust gets amplified to a level that could easily be compared to Roseanne Barr’s vagina. The crowd had come to a halt when I began to feel the earth shaking under my feet. I looked up to see a group of “plus-size” women who were all wearing sashes labeled “Bachelorette Party”. I knew that it was a pure act of God that one of these baby elephants were getting married, and couldn’t help but wonder if her husband-to-be truly loved her, or had lost a major bet. I noticed one of the girls from the bachelorette party was making her way over towards me. Realizing I had nowhere to hide, or run, I stayed put and embraced her when she wrapped her arms around me. After this 400lb ball of fun had finished hugging me, which was so fierce it almost squeezed a bowel movement out of me, she began trying to seduce me. She started digging through her purse, thats contents included a bottle of liquor and a rotisserie chicken, and after a good 5 minutes she pulled out a condom, handed it to me, and asked me to come back to the Sleep-Inn Hotel after the concert was over. This was one of the nastiest bitches I had ever came across in my life, but due to recent desperation, had I been equipped with a blindfold, and a crab comb I probably would have made her night. After my half ton lover had entered the concert I was treated to another surprise. Mandy, Emma, and Emma’s camel toe had all came to see the entertainment. All of them were plastered drunk, except for Emma’s camel toe, who apparently was the designated driver. The concert had ended and as the crowd was exiting Ace ran up to me and warned me of a woman who was wearing an orange skirt. Apparently she was the hottest woman Ace had ever seen in his life, and knowing that I am a certified pervert he wanted me to sneak a picture of her with my phone and send it to him, for reason I really don’t care to know. I decided to be a good friend and get him his fucking picture, but I couldn’t endure this task alone. I recruited Emma to help me out in my quest and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to try. We found the woman in the orange skirt and Emma, drunk off of her ass, politely asked the lady if she minded taking a picture with her. The woman was obviously intoxicated as well and went along with it. I took the first picture, which was more than satisfactory, but the woman looked into Emma’s eyes and said “You know what? Lets take another picture, except this time I want to grab your boobs”. Emma obviously jumped onto the opportunity seeing as how her breasts haven’t seen a whole lot of action since her uncle Jerry moved away last summer. I took the second picture and thought my life was complete, until I heard the woman take their newfound relationship to a whole new level. “Umm, My husband and I have been looking for a girl to bring back to our hotel with us tonight, would you be interested?” Emma’s face turned beat red a she ran off faster than a Jew with a coupon. “I guess she wasn’t interested” the woman said to me as I was trying to hold in my laughter. “I guess we will just have to find another girl” she cried, “There are plenty of cute girls around here” I replied. “Oh, she’s gorgeous” the woman exclaimed, while pointing across the room at Ace. “That’s a boy,” I said. She then questioned me on whether or not Ace would be interest in a little double penetration action with her and her fiancé. Ace is one of my best friends and I knew for a fact that he had participated in double penetration once before and hated it so much that afterwards he swore never to get drunk and share a bed with his grandparents again. The night had calmed down, and I headed to Ace and Damon’s house where Ace, Damon, Muriel, Derek, and Krull were all halfway to drunk by the time I had arrived. Muriel had decided that she wanted to shotgun a beer so we all headed into the front yard to watch her show off her talents. We noticed lights and music coming from an opened garage at the end of the culdesac and Krull decided it would be a good idea if we went to check out their party. We arrived uninvited to the neighbors get together and were greeted by a 300lb Mexican man named Smokehouse. I don’t exactly agree with naming your child Smokehouse, but then again I don’t exactly agree with majority of the Hispanic culture, so I decided to look past this odd label and just go with it. Smokehouse ended up being the life of the party, I ended up loosening up to him, and his brown skin when he looked at Ace and said “Don’t you worry about those three bears, Goldie Locks.” This was the second time in one night Ace had been referred to as a girl and I was loving every fucking minute of it. The party had began to slow down and Damon and Muriel ended up going home. We sat out in the garage for about another 20 minutes when the door that led into the house swung open as Smokehouse did a full on sprint to his truck and drove off at 90MPH. I had assumed that he received an anonymous tip that border patrol was on their way, but that idea had been shut down the minute I heard screaming coming from inside the house. The owner of the house fiancé ran out into the garage screaming “your best friend, Smokehouse, look what he did!” She then proceeded in showing us a picture of her bathroom, which was covered in a fresh coat of shit. Apparently Smokehouse had a bad case of the green apple splatters, and was so drunk he couldn't choose between the bathtub, sink, or toilet, so decided to shit in all 3. Never in my life have I been that disgusted. Shit is the one thing that grosses me out, and my mood couldn’t have been more dead if I had seen a picture of Larry King’s foreskin. I decided to inform Damon on all of the shit (literally) he had missed out on by leaving.
Me: Dude, you shouldn’t have left. Smokehouse shit EVERYWHERE.
Damon: Literally?
Me: No, Figuratively you dumbfuck. The bitch that lives here is pissed. She even took pictures.
Damon: Tell her to send them to you. I want to see.
Me: Are you fucking kidding me? You’re sick.
I ended up leaving the party that night more nauseous than the woman from the concert would have been had Emma let her go down on her camel toe. I arrived at home around 4 in the morning to find my father sleepwalking around the house in a pair of his not-so-whitey-tighties, and I went straight to bed. Fortunately I was so tired I didn’t have any nightmares regarding large Mexican men and shit-covered bathrooms, but the sight of those images will haunt my memory until the day that I die.
I realize I left Derek out of majority of this entry, mostly because he is lame and is almost not worth mentioning, but being sympathetic I would like to dedicate my closing to the best friend I could ever ask for, Derek, who has a very, very small penis.
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