Virginia is for Lovers, and I loved it up all over its face

November 5, 2013

Guten tag! Mein readers!

I love you.

And, I’m saying that in a sober state and I’m not still drunk from the weekend, which is surprising.

From Thursday night until Sunday evening, I was drinkin’ in the South. I’m talking about the deep South. I’m talking about the home of the Confederacy South. I’m talking about a liberal college town a couple hours South of Washington DC with a big university campus, a kebab places on every other corner, men with artisanal beards, women jogging in between their undergrad or post grad classes, interracial mixing of friends and sexual partners to the point that I’m the racist one for even pointing it out in my head, homosexuals running up and down the streets in leather Halloween costumes, and a love for provolone cheese like I’ve never witnessed before in my life… I’m talking about…


The aforementioned BREW DAWGZ made it legal this past weekend in his lovely wife’s old stomping grounds around the University of Virginia where she did her undergrad. The two met in grad school at NYU in like 2006. I’m pretty sure it was ’06. And they’ve been living in S-I-N for a billion years at this point and he finally got around to putting a ring on it. They’ve also been literally living in sin for 3 years now, and they’ve rescued a dog – Choopy – in sin as well.

Don’t get me wrong-> a truly wonderful couple.

So, the wedding was Saturday, the rehearsal was Friday, the hangover football marathon was Sunday, and because it takes 7 hours to drive to and from there – the commuting days were Thursday and Monday. Which means, I was in C’Ville – short for Charlottesville and not something else which starts with a C, but I’m guessing that joke gets made a lot by all the 14 year old looking male college students or non-students who live in the area – for 4 nights and 5 days and I experienced quite a lot.

Furthermore, I experience quite a lot of it … BUZZED!

First off, I’m 350 words or so into this post and I’ve got one picture to show you and the rest are words, so let me get this picture in here to at least sell you on the rest of the post…


Look at this fucking couple right here.

Am I in a tuxedo? Yep.

Bowtie? Yep.

A lady hanging on me? Yep.

A beautiful lady? Yep.

In a sexy black dress? Yep.

Is she so deliriously and jaw-droopingly happy to be in my company her mouth can-literally-not stay closed?  Yep.

Am I holding a champagne flute? Yep.

Am I BUZZED on champagne? Yep.

Are we dancing? Yep.

Am I giving a finger gun point to you to stay classy? Yep.

But I digress…

Danielle and I made it down to Charlottesville on Thursday and stayed at a very nice bed ampersand breakfast called the Dinsmore. With it being around dinner time and it being Thursday Night Football night, Danielle and I headed out to the bars! What was also at the bars? College kids looking to get uproariously drunk on Halloween! Ugh…

We went to a bar and it was so loud and filled with college kids whose faces look prepubescent to me at this point, so we went over to another bar named No. 3, which at the time of our arrival had 5 people in it. We thought this place would be perfect to watch the Dolphins beat the Bengals and drink some beer. Of those 5 people, there were 3 girls in the stereotypical slutty costumes with one of them was WonderWoman whose tits were completely out and another being a quite popular costume in C’Ville – Sexy Sully from Monsters Inc. YES! THAT MONSTERS INC! There were numerous girls in Charlottesville “dressed” as slutty Sully. Basically, blue furry ugg boots, blue furry spirit hood, blue micro spandex skirt and blue revealing tank top. SULLY!

5 people in the bar, cut to halftime – there is a DJ spinning, all the tables have been removed except for the one Danielle and I were at, the bar is packed with college kids in costumes, and the place is a fucking dance club(!). We watched the second half of that Fins game and the OT in the comfort of a dance club.

Most notable outfits… 10 girls dressed as Franzia boxes was amazing. Watching Franzia boxes dry hump other Franzia boxes on the dance floor was almost as phenomenal as the Fins besting the Bengals with a safety in OT. Even more notable, the 40ish guy dressed in his local electrical company gear he uses to climb telephone poles to fix transistors including the boots with the metal spikes that stick into the pole with his lady who was simply dressed the way she dresses putting on a dirty dancing lap dance strip show for everyone at the bar. So, amongst all the college kids there was a late 30’s or so couple just outright dryfucking on the dance floor and then he sat down for her to literally do a strip show including many boot drops and her just hanging out in her bra.


The rehearsal and the wedding were most of the time we spent down there. We did get over to Jefferson’s Monticello, which was fun and beautiful and was as historical as it is hypocritical. No one loved slaves more than Thomas Jefferson. HE LOVED SLAVES! Dude couldn’t get enough of them! If you think that Jefferson loves slaves right now, you’d be right, but you should go to Monticello and see that you have no idea HOW MUCH HE LOVED SLAVES.

The wedding was at the Trump Winery about 20 minutes outside of Charlottesville’s downtown and was wonderful. It is Trump as in piece of shit fucking moron Donald Trump from the Apprentice who bought this beautiful winery and put his dickhead son in charge. The rehearsal dinner was at the tasting room and the ceremony was at the barn and the reception was at the octagon shaped reception hall next door to the barn. It was all on a beautiful lake with amazing fall foliage everywhere and it was great. That lake even had a wild dog emerge from it before the wedding – true story – who wandered around through to the cocktail hour. Nice dog. Maybe a mythical creature who knows. IT EMERGED FROM A LAKE. Just walked right out of the water. You know, in Ancient Greece, the Gods routinely took the form of animals when walking around on the Earth, so let’s just say that hound was Neptune, ok?

As a groomsmen, I with the other groomsmen spent most of Saturday’s morning and afternoon drinking canned beers while wearing tuxedos and walking around the vineyard with the groom as a photographer took our pictures. At one point, the photographer asked myself and another buddy to lift Brew Dawgz on our shoulders like he won a football game and when I squatted down to get under Dawgz’ right leg… I SPLIT MY FUCKING PANTS.

Literally, less than an hour before I’m supposed to help walk one of my best friends’ down the aisle to marry the love of his life, I have an asshole in my tuxedo pants big enough to get my entire arm through. Thankfully, the bride’s mother had an emergency sewing kit and did an emergency sew on my pants, which held up very nicely for the rest of the day/evening.

Yes, there are pictures of me in a tuxedo shirt, cufflinks, bow tie, beer, socks, red boxer briefs, and no pants walking around the winery with the groom. Hopefully, those pictures are as sexy as I felt while trying to own the situation and not thoroughly embarrassing because I already gave the ok to the photographer to use them and I didn’t think about it until a couple days later that I should have asked to see them first. Well… whatever. I already got that lady on my arm, right?!

It was a fucking great day. So, was Friday too. And Sunday. On Friday, I was hanging out with the groomsmen and many other people attending the wedding, which was great. Amazingly so, Brew Dawgz’ friends from childhood and his friends from college have blended together seamlessly. I’ve known Dawgz for 12 years now – I still can’t believe that it has been this long – and I’ve known his friends from high school and before for not much less than that… 11 years? It’s been several years at this point, that the idea of them being Dawgz’ friends originally is a moot point. I’ve had numerous situations where I’ve been hanging out with one of those guys and we’ll run into someone from their life and that person will ask how we know each other and we’ll kind go through the motions of referencing that I went to college with their childhood buddy, but at this point we’ve been friends for like a decade, so fuck that person for even questioning it.

So, Friday, hanging out with a dozen plus friends and having a great time doing it. Then cut to Saturday, the groomsmen are all lined up and ready to walk out to stand at the alter. We’ve been sequestered all day, so we haven’t seen the rest of the people who are going to show up at the wedding that are also friends. When I walked out and saw another half dozen plus friends sitting in the crowd, I just wanted to laugh hysterically because not only was Friday great and not only was Saturday morning great, but shit was just warming up and Saturday night was going to be that much more fun because I haven’t even gotten a chance to hang out with more friends who are just waiting to hang out in the crowd. Truly a phenomenal day.

And, I drank champagne for like 5 hours. There was no more champagne. I drank all the champagne. I had some help – the bride had some, one of the groomsmen had his fair share, one of buddy’s girlfriend had some – but I definitely drank at least a few bottles to myself.

If you’re at all worried I drove… nope. Actually, the car? Dead. I screwed up on Friday night turning off the headlights and left the fog lamps on and drained Danielle’s car’s batter to death and had to buy her a new battery on Sunday. No, we were ushered around in school buses.

On Sunday, we went over to the bride’s parents’ place they rented and drank beer and ate food and watched football all day. And, Monday we drove back to Nueva Jersey and got to see our pitbull Coco and loved her up too.

I love hanging out with my friends. I love my friends. I love hanging out with my friends and watching them hang out with our other friends. I love my friends significant others who jump right into the mix and get wild with the rest of us even if it was the first time meeting some of us. I love Danielle. I love seeing Danielle mixing it up with my friends and having a good time.

I loved last weekend.

I don’t even mind that it completely messed with my bowels and I’ve been farting pretty nonstop this entire time from all the carbonation from the beer and champagne and my stomach trying its best to churn the sludge of booze and food and get it the fuck out of me.

So, that was my weekend for the most part.

I literally laughed myself sore throughout my entire body.

One Response to “Virginia is for Lovers, and I loved it up all over its face”

  1. Always good when only one sentence separates you revealing your feelings for me and your persistent gas.

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