9622.net

And now, having started this nonsense, I have to leave. Hopefully I'll be back later after a few dribks, but that all depends on whether a certain seven-week old decides tonight is a screaming night or a sleeping night.

*Walks in, sits down, waits*

*gathers other TSs in a group huddle*

Woo-hoo! It's been far too long since my last lapdance. Strippers make me happy.

Well, first off, better put these on, Cheffie...

*holds out obligatory bachelor party silk panties with the words "morally bankrupt" stencilled on the ass*

Uh...I'm early........me in a dress just won't do.

(Places bottle of crown in Chef's one hand.
100 1$'s in his other hand.)

(Looks around) O' yea, forgot something. Now where did I place my Pimp's #, I'll be back.

(Does a shot of crown with chef then leaves.)

Look, Chef, I'm not going to pile on the "Poor you, you're getting married" bandwagon. Tomorrow is my 17th anniversary, and I love my wife so much more now than when we got married that it can't even be measured.

I hope you and your betrothed are as in love as we were, and that after seventeen years you're that much more in love. There's nothing better.

Godspeed.

I've never been to a bachelor party. Is it customary to try to convince the honoree to not marry his fiancee to instead bestow affections on one of the attendees?

(was that too subtle?)

Well, I'm off to scrub myself clean, but while I do, I'll be meditating on the best raunchiness for a bachelor I can come up with....

Mr. Bubble, makes getting clean almost as fun as getting dirty. Operative word: "almost."

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 04:25 PM

*dons party hat, takes off pants, blows party whistle*

**hops in dancing like Party-Boy from Jackass**

Wait, what? ColdChef's straight? You don't say? I had no idea. Hmmm.

**saunters off to formulate plan B**

Thunderslut Powers, Activate!!

I'm straight, but I ain't narrow.

Dance, Party-Boy!

Starts xxx film strip on the dangers of loose women.

*whirr*

You could go blind....or insane!

Hey, who's gonna spring for the party favors? They got monkeys, too!

*watches film*

Holy shitsandwich! Mom?

Hey, any of you fucks know Tommy Hanks's home number? Cockknocker won't return my faxes.

I made that little crossdressing volleyball rapist! You hear me? I made him!

Hey, I'm hosting one of these parties in a couple of weeks... I've got to get some pointers.

Yeah, tell needledick to call me, too.

Will Skank for Food

Lets not be tooooo decadent, shall we?

***begins cutting lines of coke on a model's bare ass***

**cues up Desmond Dekker**

Okay, so, here's the saddest story you've ever heard:

Tonight was supposed to be my bachelors party. We set this date aside about six weeks ago. The posse was informed and plans starting coming together. My baby brother and best man starting formulating a kickass fiesta. Old girlfriends were notified, bundles of one dollar bills were accquired.

And then...

About a week ago, as plans were solidifying, the Best Man starts calling around and rallying the troops. And two of my groomsmen couldn't make it.

Okay, no big deal. Their loss. And then another guy backed out. And then another.

And it got to the point where it was going to be me, my brother, and two semi-friends from high school. And I said, "You know what? Let's just call it off."

And so, in about ten minutes, I'm gonna leave work and go have a nice dinner with my brother. He's got dad's credit card and we're going to put a little damage on it. He'll tell me about married life (he's got two years of experience so far) and I'll tell him about my fears and hopes.

And that's my bachelors party.

I should mention, though, that in about a month or so, we're going to grab a van full of those dudes and kidnap them to Mexico for a weekend of warm beer and donkey shows.

They just don't know it yet.

OK, thundersluts - take off your panties and mail 'em to the Chef. Poor guy. *weeps*

Or to his dad. Hell, the old guy's got money ;)

Yipes, Chef!

Actually, there's a lot to be said for not doing any of those typical Bachelor Party things. Best just to hang out with the pals and get quietly rat-assed.

When I got married, I was 18 years and eight days old, so clearly I was too young (as was my best man) to buy booze, hire strippers, etc.

We spent my "bachelor party evening" wandering around Salt Lake City looking in the windows of the "adult" magazine shops. I was home, asleep, by ten o'clock.

Thus concludes Tales of the Pathetic Fucking Losers for this evening.

i once snorted cocaine off of angelina jolie's surgically enhanced breast.

(and you don't want to be one of those people for whom things go well. those people are BORING.)

That was the original idea, kaf. We were going to go fishing in the gulf tomorrow morning. Steaks tonight and fresh fish tomorrow for lunch. And nary a lapdance in sight. Ah, it would have been grand.

that's a lie. i once almost went to a party where she was.

Zut, alors!

Well, I command you to get lit with your brother and act foolish.

Okay, it's beer-thirty. Off to the bar for me. Try to keep the donkey off the sofa, and don't let goneill anywhere near the punchbowl.

I'll be back later.

Goneill and I will re-enact that scene during our 9622 meet up this week.
Now are ya sure nobody else wants to come?

When the monkeys get their shit together and have a 9622 gathering, we can have it be the honorary "ColdChef Bachelor Party (Observed)."

Having said that, I peel off my frumpy bathrobe and reveal the glittering beaded vintage pasties and t-bar I have on underneath, while breathing fire and bouncing quarters off my bum. (I have this burlesque outfit in the house somewhere and have actually worn it. But the sedentary lifestyle makes it pucker in all the wrong places, so I think I will pass it on to some nice stripper somewhere).

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 05:33 PM

well, I was lying too. nyah nyah.
Have a great nite, Chef! Be happy!

i'm over here by jonmc and the model. the punchbowl is safe for now.

tizzie i'll be more than happy to snort cocaine off of your surgically enhanced breast if that's what you want.

what's a t-bar.

Well, I did once snort blow off of Tennessee Williams autograph, a poetic touch Tennesee wouldve approved of I imagine.

That's definitely the most exciting offer I've had today, babe. Without a doubt.

I've snorted 'blow' off of a Yo-Yo Ma autograph.

And when I say Tennessee would've approved I mean this Tennessee, of course..

And when I say Tennessee would've approved I mean this Tennessee, of course..

post??

And when I say Tennessee would've approved I mean this Tennessee, of course..

post??

A t-bar is one of those horrible contraptions that some people call underwear but actually just go up your bum-crack. Strippers wear them under their little performance outfits so that they have something to strip down to that isn't givin' it all up at once. It's more than a g-string, less than granny-panties. Loathesome, but sexy on some people. Not necessarily me.

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 05:45 PM

and it made me post compulsively...

What? There's no bachelor party? But I made shots!

I went white water rafting for my bachelor's party and ate big steaks. 'Twas fun.

We can do blow off a Tennessee thunderslut, but let's leave the razor blades behind.

I once blew snot towards a truck that was painted with the company name of "Williams International".

I'm back. Thom looks around no chef, folks in the corner with spacey look gleam back at him. Hookers he brought pipe up, I want some.

(wonder's where is chef and that bottle of crown pop-opens his lap-top looks at STS thread. Goes over to Hookers.)

Thom: Where y'all from?
Hookers: St. Paul, Minnasota

Sorry Chef I didn't realize you had already
met heard of them.

I hope you and your brother have one hell of a time tonight.
You've seem the type that your not missing out on life and needs a bachlor party to feel like they had one, a life.

glass held high, Cheers Chef...*gulp*

OK: Dirty bachelor party story coming up. Seriously, all uptight christianfolk should skip this one.

I was best man for my brother's (first) wedding, a few years ago. Anxious to avoid the standard bachelor party fare, I took him and three friends to Baltimore for the weekend, to see the Sox play in Camden Yards. It was a total surprise to him, and we all had a great time.

After the game, we ended up in a strip club that was, ahem, a bit more than a strip club, if ya knowhattamean. Way down the end of the bar, you could see that some of the girls were dancing with some of the patrons. After closer inspection however, it became apparent the guys weren't dancing, as it's hard to dance with your pants down around your ankles. Apparently, $60 would get you 20 minutes with a girl and her bottle of hand lotion. It was called Club Oasis, and it was a grand ole time.

Two weeks later, we went to visit my grandfather. In his old age, he's far from the uptight prick that he was when I was growing up. When he heard we'd gone to Baltimore he launched into this long story about when he was there on shore leave during the war:

So me and my buddies are at this bar, and we've been drinking all night, and there are girls all over the place trying to make a buck off the sailors. It's finally time to go and my buddy Charlie comes up to me and says "John" [my grandfather is John, too] "John, you gotta give me some money."

I said "Jesus, Charlie, we've been here all night. I don't think I have any money left. What do you need it for?"

And he says "It's for one of the girls. I gotta give her ten bucks."

"We just paid the bar tab, Charlie. What do ya got to give her ten bucks for?" I said.

"I owe her ten bucks," he said, "'cause I just came in my pants!"

According to my grandfather, the name of the club, and i'm totally serious and not bullshittin' ya, was "the Oasis".

I agree, tizzie, we should not cut cocaine on Brittney's breast using razorblades.

(is that what you were saying?)

I hate it when they cut the co-caine with speed.

Here will use this glass pipe like all good strippers so no one will say; "I got the dripper." for a nose.

Ahh. I remember my bachelor party. No, wait, that's wrong. I remember driving to Vegas for my bachelor party. And then I remember driving home. They guys tell me that I had fun, and that they have the videos to prove it and that I better keep the payments coming.

Okay, as long as true stories night - but this is a boring one.

We didn't have strippers at my bachelor party. We did have dirty movies, but they weren't really necessary. We did have lots of beer, and a friend from Maine had just gone smelting, and fried up a whole lot of the little bastards, so that was weird enough, but for some odd reason the highlight of the evening was when we pulled out a bag of ta-ka-radi tiles (later packaged in an entirely inferior version by Milton-Bradley as Jenga). This was a HUGE hit, so my bachelor party consisted of twenty drunk guys eating little fried fish and yelling loudly at each other as we stacked up towers of little wooden blocks and pulled them out one by one, while porn played all the while in the background.

It was actually a lot of fun.

And I'll have been married thirteen years next May. Good luck, ColdChef - may you and your bride always be as happy as I and mine still are.

* toasts, but without the boobie glass *

I'm doing a little pro-active searching on behalf of your imminent hangover, and am sending along these sites so as to make the morning after a little more bearable. First, the classic time-tested remedy. If that is not enough, there is this terribly wordy description of hangover causes, which, because of it's wordiness won't really do you any good when your head is pounding, but is a good resource for all of us who want to take Tylenol when drinking (lesson learned: DON'T! Liver damage ensues). This site offers up some of the simple time-tested hangover cures in big pink letters (very easy to read). But perhaps this one will serve as the best example for you, because it has not only cures for hangovers, but boobs as well (keeping with the spirit of a virtual bachelor party). Not work safe, I suppose, but very silly.

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 08:14 PM

Reading over my post, it seems I've gone spastic on the commas. Think of them as confetti that I'm sprinkling about for a festive air.

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 08:20 PM

goneill, i definitely didn't say that. I'm not even allowed to play with sharp objects.

I was just looking at that nudist travel site readymade linked and it reminded me of when I used to go to Haulover down in Florida and it made me think of something. If everybody's so into being natural and naked and all that shit, how come all the women are still wearing jewelry and makeup and whatnot?

just sayin...

Yeah, I'm a little surprised that they have a section on Packing Tips. Let's see: toothbrush, sunscreen, OK!

My experience with nudists is that they want to show you what they have a lot more than you would want to see it.

A mother with googling ability, I'm sorry lupo. I cannot believe there is no smut in this thread. I am fiancee-less this weekend so bring it on!

I would have to concur.

Posted by: readymade on October 25, 2002 10:13 PM

Well, we can't allow the party to be smutless, so here we go:

Smut, smut, smut, smut, smut!

That being said...Congrats ColdChef! I wish you and your betrothed all the best. May you avoid all the mistakes of my first marriage and enjoy all the joys of my second...while keeping the same spouse. ;)

Hmmmm......Where is tj when we are talking about Adrian Zmed and hookers. Maybe tj is really William Shatner.

Oh, let's at least have a little bit of classic, classy smut. Woo-hoo! (scroll all the way to the bottom for the good stuff!!!)

That is not smut!

You all know I used to work third shift at the Waffle House. Well, one night a bunch of guys came in from a bachelor party-typical drunken, loud, highspirited bunch. We were really busy so I didn't pay much attention.

Suddenly I realized I kept hearing this noise. It sounded just like a bowling ball rolling on the floor....then, to my wondering eyes appeared the poor groom-to-be...with a bowling ball CHAINED to his ankle. No kidding.

(and rest assured I skipped the nasty bits in this thread.Working third shift in a Waffle House I have heard more than enough of it all anyway.)

So lupo, were the same ladies there for your bros party as your grandfather's experience?

I think lupo has previously expressed his "thing" for older women.

Well, the damnable party might be off (pitiful!), but that cocaine on Brittney's breast ain't gonna snort itself, boy.

The world is big and life is finite. Take your pleasures as they come, my friend.

Shots!

Ah, memories of my year cocktailing in a strip bar (yes, the one I linked above). Bachelors always got thrown in the cage with a couple of strippers who would crawl all over him like a jungle gym. Many times they would end up in nothing but their boxers. And at least one of the party would always try to grab my black vinyl encased ass while asking "So, baby, how much for you to strip?" They could never afford it.

*leans back with a cigar and a glass of 30 year old port, leers at any nude flesh showing in the room.*

Well she certainly captures the spirit of the season. Beautiful, commish!

Before we start playing strip twister, let's not forget the gag gifts, both the traditonal and the just plain disturbing.

So you're saying it vibrates and...it's an it?

Cool.

FWIW, the favorite stripper joke among the strippers of my acquaintance:

What does a stripper do to her asshole before going to work?
Drops him off at band rehearsal.

I'll be here mondays blue plate. Try the mock turtle.

Heheh.

How do you get the guitarist off your porch?

You pay for your pizza.

Well I call dibs on that freaking "hair-helmet" (see dude behing Hanks in the picture).

How can you tell when the stage is level?

The guitarist is drooling out of both sides of his mouth.

Wow, I'm glad the thread went well. I've been a nervous nellie having actually signed up to post, and I couldn't get back to the computer until now. Sorry your non-virtual bachelor party fizzled, Chef, but this aint all bad. My bachelor party revolved around golfing, and it was fun. But I've been to two in the last year that have featured the proverbial "duo" as seen in "Requiem For a Dream." In both cases at the end of their performance, the girls bring out "The Monster" (or whatever -- looks something like this -- not work safe) and solicit additional cash. Then they finish their performance, all the while looking as bored as they no doubt feel. They do not, however, look as degraded as Jennifer Connely appeared (although I can say that the people who were there were nowhere near as obnoxious as those in the film). To me it's all well and good, but it's as far from erotic as you're apt to get.

Chef! "You asshole!"

Ah, this brings back memories....

Cheers!

Embarrassed to admit that we still quote this movie from time to time. yikes.

As long as we're sharing, does anyone have any (ahem) scars they can point to and say "I got that at my bachelor party"?

*looks around, raises hand tentatively*

No, but at one of the parties I was at recently the "performer" bit the nipple of the groom-to-be. He was mighty pissed. Kept asking me if he could "sue her"! Reportedly it was still bruised on the wedding day.

How hard did he get bit? Jeez louise.

I can't imagine what sort of punishment I'd have to endure to consider suing a stripper. "Sir, if it please the court, can we alter the record to show that it was not a "double-headed dildo" but in actuality just a large vibrator, and it was purchased and brought to the party by the plaintiff, not the defendant, the defendant's only relationship to the item was to borrow it for a presentation..."

"Move to strike!"

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