So I once went to this stag party. There weren’t many people there that I knew and it was a full on drunken camping weekend in the reeeaaly hick part of the Island. I was actually scared my tent and I would get run over in the middle of the night, so I parked it behind some trees that were behind an over-sized truck, then stole the keys to said behemoth that spoke plainly of it’s drivers complex.
My good friend was getting married, she and her soon to be husband decided to celebrate together and throw a huge camping extravaganza on a lake. This over the top party contained kegs, (and subsequently many keg stands), potato guns, quadding, overloaded boats desperately trying to pull tubes full of inebriated humans, and my favorite memory, a man in a mexican fighting mask walking around like a zombie at 7 am. There was a guy who bit the head off a live fish people, this was a bachelor/ette weekend I’ll never forget.
The reason I will never forget, is because I was too damn scared to get wasted. Thank heavens. I knew precisely four humans there, and they were all sorts of irresponsible; so I hung out with the dogs.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t lame or anything; I wasn’t a wallflower, I had all kinds of fun. I sat in beach chairs in the lake and drank beer from 7:00-23:00 PST, I just drank responsibly. There was no mixing, there was no tequilla, and there was absolutely no …. Mary Jane as my mother likes to call it. And, when the party would get out of hand, I’d move off to the tent and make sure Odin, the Great Dane, had supper and kept me warm.
My good friend and her husband broke up a while ago. I was sad as he was my favorite dude for her. She is now with the fish head biting man… she likes to keep it real. Me, if I”m uncomfortable at a party, or decide I’ve conversed with drunk adults long enough, you’ll find me hanging with the cat/gerbil/dog/horse. And that’s exactly why my honey of a girlfriend sent me this picture on Facebook, and tagged it as me.
Embrace thyself, and animals.