Hello there blog-fans! After a short stint of doing nothing and having nothing to blog about, I am finally back in the land of those who have a life. This past weekend one of my friends from college, Big Willy aka William Powell, got married down in Charleston. I was really excited to go down there because this was the first time since college that the whole crew (minus Suanj and the Staff) were going to be together since graduation and I knew that I would finally have something to blog about. I was sure that this was going to be a weekend full of heavy drinking and crazy antics reminiscent of our 4 years together at Clemson. Unfortunately, at least for me, the weekend o' fun quickly turned in to the weekend o'no fun.
Mel and I drove down to Charleston together and got to our friends Julie and Jon's house late Friday afternoon. The two of us were going to be staying there for the weekend along with our friends Suses and Chris Clapp. We all showered up and then headed out for the rehearsal dinner which was a barbeque out on a beautiful river on James Island. Well after I started itching all over, I realized that the so-called beautiful river was actually a freakin cesspool of mating mosquitoes. After about an hour at the party I had appoximately 400 mosquito bites and was full on miserable. My Irish heritage was workin' hard against me that night. I was totally that girl at the party who wouldn't stop complaining about the friggin bugs. Clapp advised me to just get so drunk that I wouldn't care about the pain anymore but this just led me to being drunk and itchy instead of being happily buzzing and itchy. Anyways, this is where my friend Joe and I somehow got to talking about the blog. I learned that Joe is one of those who reads the blog but doesn't comment. He challenged me by saying that no one comments on the blog because it is not about him and that if it was, there would be an astronomical amount of comments. So this is your chance Joe. I'll even post a pic of you to entice any lady friends out there to leave ya a comment. We'll see how many comments you get.
Anyways, after we all finally left the cesspool, we headed over to Justin's house for some more drinking and beer pong. It wasn't long after we had gotten there that we realized that we were actually not young and crazy, but old and tired so we headed back to Julie's house where I slept on a half inflated air mattress and scratched myself to sleep.
I woke up the next morning, showered, and got ready for the 4:30 wedding. The four of us girls decided to go downtown for a little pre-wedding shopping and lunch when tropical storm Berry hit. For those of you who don't know, Charleston is miserable when it rains because the whole city floods, not to mention the fact that the reception for the wedding was indoor/outdoor. There would be a big tent outside that housed the band, dance floor, bar, food, etc.....Well, we got drenched and continued to shop as I informed the girls that all this misery would be worth it if they had my two most favoritest wedding foods, shrimp and grits and the carving station man, at the reception. I could not shut up about how making little meat sandwiches at a wedding makes me sooo incredibly happy.
The wedding went off with only a few hitches, including a 30 minute delay due to a late 350 lb wheelchair bound grandfather whom our friend Shaun (the best man) wheeled in to the church but failed to lock the chair causing the grandfather to take a little trip backwards down the aisle before Shaun caught him. After several chuckles, the wedding began. Anyways, we all headed over to the reception and I was ecstatic to see that there were shrimp and grits AND the carving station man. I had had a few glasses of wine and was feeling good when we decided it was time to eat. I got a big ole plate of food, sat down, and took the first bite of my meat sandwich when I felt it get stuck in my throat. Now, this is not the first time this has happened. Last Thanksgiving during a party at my aunt's house I got a piece of beef tenderloin stuck in my throat. After an extremely painful and unsightly 2 and a half hours in the bathroom trying to make myself puke, I had to go to the emergency room. Well, at the reception as soon as I felt the meat get stuck I ran to the nearest bathroom knowing what was about to go down. The thing that makes this problem so unsightly is that when something is stuck in your esophagus you can't swallow anything so you have to spit up saliva every couple of seconds. Gross. So, I spent the next 3 hours in the bathroom spitting up and trying to make myself puke while everyone else got drunk. When the reception was over and everyone was deciding where to next, I decided it was time for me to make another trip to the ER. I really didn't want to go and tried to suffer through it all this time because I have the world's shittiest insurance and I knew this trip was going to cost me a small fortune. Well, another problem here was deciding which drunkard to drag with me. Drunk Julie happily surrendered herself but told me that she was way too intoxicated to drive so I would have to drive myself to the ER while spitting and puking. Awesome. We waded through the flood to the car and pulled up to MUSC's emergency room around 11PM. By this time, the pain had reached an all time high so I was quickly called back by a nurse to answer some very important questions about my religous background and my mother's maiden name. I finally get put in a "room," stripped down, put on the gown, and began to wait on the doctor when wouldn't you know it, I felt the damn thing go down. I called the nurse and told her that I felt it go down, but she told me that I still had to be seen by the doctor. After a few minutes the doctor comes in and basically tells me that I am a stoopy and need to stop wolfing down meat sandwiches. Maybe I should try this little thing called chewing.
Well drunk Julie and I leave the hospital and meet up with the rest of the now unbelieveably drunk crew out at a bar. The minute I walk through the door I am bombarded with 3 shot glasses and am being ordered to take them. Believe it not, those drunk stoopies couldn't understand that since I hadn't swallowed in 3 hours I had no desire to chug liquor. Joe did find it very amusing, however, to repeatedly tell me that "I just can't handle the meat." Needless to say, to everyone's surprise including my own, I had my first and last experience as the designated driver that night.
So, Julie and Jon's wedding is in two weeks so I have a chance to redeem myself. Before I left, all my friends informed me that under no circumstance am I to touch any form of meat at their reception. I mean.....pretty sure that won't be a problem guys. As much fun as pain, spitting, puking, and a trip to the ER are, I think I 'll be able to refuse the carving station man.
Note: Joe is on the far right in the above picture. The other fools pictured are Keelan on the left and Jon in the middle.