My friend Tom (a.k.a Zamfir, Master of the Tape Room) and I made it our mission to go out and kill as many brain cells as possible on Saturday night. After many stops, our destructive field trip took us to Kell’s Irish Pub, arguably the best bar in Portland. The band, ‘Ockham’s Razor‘ was amazing, and the Guinness was as smooth as any I’ve ever had, making it almost too easy to eradicate those stubborn remaining neurons. It was a good night.

Though the bar was crowded, Zamfir and I managed to score a great table almost directly in front of the stage. Many pints were drained in the name of our mission as the band rocked the house. Suddenly, out of the ever-growing crowd, two uninvited strangers dragged a couple of chairs over and joined our little party. These two dudes looked straight off the campus of Microsoft, a pair of tall and dorky clowns with matching foo-foo girlie drinks in hand.

Zamfir and I looked at each other and shrugged. Great. Since they were already sitting at the table, there really wasn’t much we could do about it. Because we couldn’t really care less about these two, we introduced ourselves as ‘Jimmy and Fred’, shook their hands and then did our best to ignore them; not too difficult for me, considering more pints of Guinness than blood sloshed through my veins.

Just as suddenly as Frick and Frack sat down, our little party was joined again, this time by a group of seven girls out on a wild batchelorette party night. The bride looked pretty bombed as she staggered around. Her bridesmaid, sober and scanning the room, had some sort of list in hand. Seemed they were on a mission too.

When the entire Girls Gone Wild party stopped in front of our table, Frack’s eyes lit up. Wow! A girl! A bunch of girls! Live ones! How keen! It could be Frack’s lucky day! The bachelorettes started twittering and whispering to each other.

Frack looked like he needed encouragement, so I leaned over and stirred the pot a little, saying I thought the bride was definitely into him. I guess I wasn’t exactly discrete, because she heard me as well. The soon-to-be future ex-wife smiled at me, then grabbed Frack’s hand, leading him toward the restroom. A flicker of jealousy flashed over Frick’s face as his buddy, about to get lucky, disappeared. Always willing to help a cause, I leaned over and said, “Dude, what the hell are you waiting for? There are SEVEN of them over there! Get going, man!”

Frick jumped up and disappeared as well, leaving his half empty Cosmopolitan on the table.

Ten minutes later, our two friends were back, looking pretty crestfallen.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” replied Frack. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Aww, c’mon. Tell me what happened!”

They both looked at each other, then lifted their shirts.

Across their scrawny chests, scrawled in bright red lipstick, were the names of every girl in the bridal party, all long gone. Mission accomplished!

Author: frenchy

2 Responses to “Beware Of The Bride”

1. Mitch says:

   October 11, 2008 at 7:14 AM

   At least she didn’t use a sharpie!
   – Mitch

   Reply
2. Vicki says:

   October 6, 2008 at 9:21 AM

   And Pat calls me a Pot Stirrer.. I know what you should go as for Halloween.

   Reply