fat slut bite

This whole non-smoking blog is boring the hell out of me. “Enough, already. We know you don’t smoke. Welcome to the rest of the world.” Nobody cares.

So anyways I thought I’d tell a funny story. At least I think so.

So my best friend Josie married my friend Billy. I’ve known these kids since I was 15-16-ish years old. They’re the best. Billy played Lacrosse all throughout his stay at Marquette University. Let me tell you something about these Lacrosse boys: they were really organized. When I see the typical college party movies, I always think of Billy and his teammates. They really did it up. When they graduated they had a party that included a dunk-tank, a band and pig roast. It was the kind of extravaganza that you only see on MTV.

Anywho, Josie and I would make that 8+ hour drive to Marquette every so often. It was fun. I wouldn’t say that I was a lacrosstetiute, but I was always marvelously entertained while visiting. The guys he lived with were always super gracious hosts. After college they stayed in touch and when Josie and Billy got married, it was like the entire Chicago Cubs had come to town.

I, of course, had my sights set on Groomsmen #3. Mr. #3 was a tall, blue-eyed and funny Irish man. (I’m beginning to see a trend a little bit now I guess…) Mr. #3 wasn’t my favorite of the crew, but he sure was handsome… and single. Needless to say, over the course of the wedding weekend I somehow managed to end up with his Holiday Inn matches. It was completely innocent, yet nice, wedding night make-out session.

Josie, Billy, his brother Brian and I decide to spend New Year’s Eve in Chicago that year. It was much like a scene from Vacation. Billy is Clark Griswold, Josie is Ellen, Brian is Russ and I am Audrey. We stayed with Billy’s friends, Murph and Collins. Their tiny apartment in Lincoln Park housed a party with over 100 attendees that year. It was pretty insane. Probably one of my most favorite New Years memories. These guys all had real personality. For as little time that Josie and I would spend with them merely visiting Billy, they always received us like best friends who never missed a beat even when years pass by.

Like I said it was a pretty crowded house. I remember waking up at dawn falling out of Murph’s twin bed where Billy, Josie and I had slept like sardines. I went out to the living room where I was able to scavenge a quarter of a couch cushion near Brian’s feet. The party kept on keeping on throughout the weekend. I think New Year’s Eve fell on a Thursday so we really had a long weekend there. The sleeping arrangements the next two nights were about the same. It was wicked uncomfortable.

So the last night there, we all decide to hit the town. Mr. #3 shows up. I, of course, assume that there will be that same wedding magic. How it was going to happen I had no idea, as I basically decided to stare at the floor when he came near me, but nonetheless, I knew it was going to happen. Slowly the liquid courage begins to kick in. We end up in the same cab on the way to the last bar. Since there were about 15 people with us, I had to sit on Mr. #3’s lap. This was such a shoe-in. No more work on my part required. I knew where my next meal was coming from.

The last bar was this crazy loud and crowded dance club. Suddenly I notice Mr. #3 being whisked away by a (somewhat) larger Louis Vitton toting blonde. And I might add “(somewhat)” is being polite. Imagine my disappointment when I see Mr. #3 an Mrs. Size 20 making out. What??? So yeah, there wasn’t going to be any nostalgic wedding make-out session.

We all go back to Murph and Collins’ house where I am one of the last men standing with my host and our friend Beano. Both of them were fantastic in calming my “So he’d rather make out with a fat chick?” nerves. We have laughs until we can’t see straight. Finally we decide that we need some shut-eye. Collins says to me that he assigned Brian to Murph’s twin bed earlier in the night and since I hadn’t been sleeping very well our entire stay, that I should sleep there.

Not wanting to wake up Brian, I change into my PJs in the dark. As I’m about crawl into bed I whisper, “Move over fatty! I’m coming to bed.”

Up sits Mr. #3 and Mrs. Size 20.

Mortified, I run out the door.

Beano, God bless his soul, makes a “make-shift” bed out of one couch cushion next to the heater. Yeah, sleeping spaces were really that limited. It was certainly a full house.

The next morning Mr. #3 and Mrs. Size 20 snuck out before everyone else woke up. We all sat around rehashing the previous night’s shenanigans. Slowly everyone began to make jokes about Mrs. Size 20. Apparently she was also very rude as well. In the morning she stormed into the living room waking everyone up demanding to know where her Louis Vitton purse was. Everyone was pretty amused that I announced that “fatty should move over” totally thinking it was Brian instead of the Mr. #3 and his lady lover.

As we are recalling our night, I begin to notice that I had quite a painful blister on my thigh. It was pretty big. The size of a quarter. I begin to complain to the group, wondering what happened.

“She must’ve bit you on the way out!” exclaimed Collins.

Everyone busts out in laughter over my fat slut bite. Add insult to injury. Or injury to insult. I’m pretty certain that it was from the heater that I slept next to, but you never, never know…

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3 Responses to “fat slut bite”


  1. 1 Josie February 11, 2010 at 6:13 am

    Best weekend ever!
    I remember it like yesterday…

    God I love those guys.

  2. 2 marley beans February 12, 2010 at 2:19 am

    lacrossetitute? I love it!


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