Sunday, January 10, 2010

The Drunken Ballad of Josh MacDonald

The Drunken Ballad of Josh MacDonald


-Matt Eckert

Why Portland? Why not? No, that's not the real answer. The real answer is that you can drink in the strip clubs.
It was with this in mind that we celebrated Josh MacDonald's bachelor party in Portland.
Josh is a connoisseur of the strip clubs, and I'm an alcoholic. So, it being Josh's party, and my friends generally taking the hoodwinking I administer to tweak plans to fit my needs: off to Portland!
Arriving at 2.30 at Josh's I found that I would need to a) wait for Scott to take a shower (softball game); b) wait for Chris to ditch his son's T-ball game before we could leave.
Ditching a child's T-ball game in the dawn of said child's life is something that a man needs to do once in awhile to teach the child that love is fickle. Like when my dad ditched my birth to go buy a kayak.
But, teaching a father these life lessons is for another time; when we take little Carson out for his bachelor party in our Jetson cars of the future.

Eventually, we were ready to go. I had purchased beer, and Josh brought along a bottle of Vodka for the road. I don't encourage keeping open containers in vehicles – they cause spills. But it was a hot day and there was no reason to be sober under such conditions.
Our first stop was Fred Meyer, where I acquired cigarettes; Scott and Chris purchased juices to mix with the Vodka. Oh! Plus, I got Josh an edition of Horse Illustrated.
On the road Chris and I quickly began drinking and by the end of the trip we had made 35 stops to piss. One of which I used to play the old bachelor party favorite: throw used toilet-moistened toilet paper at the bachelor.
Good times were had by all and we have 34 pictures of the exit Dike Access for good measure.
After many calls for directions, we found our hotel – 60 miles from downtown Portland. Scott has a penchant for buggery and this only proves it.
The drab environs of the Shilo of Portland was something to behold: free coffee, a bar, slot machines, and the smell of old lady.
SLOT MACHINES! Yes, but they were kinda lame. Apparently, everywhere in Oregon has these poker machines, but I don't know.....not enough bells and whistles for my taste.
We adjourned to our room where we began drinking again.
Scott had purchased Josh a T-shirt which had all these little tasks he was required to perform: get a pair of panties, take a shot with a woman, have sex with a dead guy, etc.....
It took three of us holding him down to get the shirt on, but we triumphed.
Soon, we were calling a cab and heading to the bar for more alcohol. I tried my luck with the slot machine, but it was only paying off at a quarter a run, so I said "Valhalla, I am coming!" ....for no reason.
The cab soon came and we entered a four hour journey to the Acropolis.
The Acropolis is world renown for boobies and steak.
As I walked in, I saw the most beautiful blonde fawn of sexualiciousness; I made myself a promise that I would send her my ear at a later date, but for the moment, I needed cash.
The bars in Portland, and Vancouver for that matter, are the opposite of the ones in Seattle – booze, but no close action. Therefore, the whole idea of forking over a dollar and not being able to stick it down steamy panties drew loud grunting from my fellow mates.
I enjoy strip clubs to a certain degree, but I will say, I do become rather uncomfortable when confronted with the strippers. They come up to you on the bar and put their tits, ass, and cooch in front of your face – which is nice, but you kinda feel odd, cuz they're doing this while they look straight at you and give you a knowing smile. All the while you just want to put your mouth on them and hum.
But, believe it or not, I treated them like anyone else and found myself extremely embarrassed when they shoved there genitals in my face. I didn't know how I was to react? Do I say something sexy, or do I sit and just ogle them like a serial killer? So, I made small talk:

How are things?
Ah, that's nice.
Looks like you're having fun.

And so on.....
The most ugly thing I saw was Scott and Chris eating whole steak dinners in front of the strippers. This Constanzinian move of utter hedonism made me cringe.
I don't understand how you can eat and look at pussy like that. It made me wonder if Scott cracks the Ruffles and ranch while watching porno.
I'm sorry, eating isn't a sexy thing to do, especially when you're watching the sexy.
So, eating – not sexy, Chris and Scott – corpulent tugboats of shame.
Later, we bought a couch dance for Josh from a woman who had so many tattoos that she looked like Venom from Spiderman.

After a couple of hours, it became evident that we were now on the third rotation of the same strippers, and now it was time to vacate.
I grabbed a nudy mag on the way out and began an assault on Josh's head with it for the duration of the cab ride back to downtown.
Josh was drunk, and the magazine beatings I was administrating were angering him. By the time we got to the club, he came at me like the sour drunk he was, but I easily repelled him with the help of Scott and Chris.
Josh should have known better; so, I rapped him hard enough across the face that he flew through a wall and out...just joking.
After pissing, it was time to use Josh's shirt to get laid.
Yes, the shirt possessed twenty or so conversation starters. I began with the "take a shot with a woman."
I sidled up to two lovely Japanese women and commenced my pitch: "I oblige you to take a shot of your choice of spirit with my friend – Josh. He's a bachelor and we're giving him a party."
The women ordered Vodka, which I went to the bar to procure. At the bar I came upon another attractive woman and introduced myself, but she was soon whisked away by her flabby friend.
Oh, well.
I brought the Vodka and Oatmeal cookie (Josh's request – more proof that he likes guys) and took pictures of them shooting the bile.
Josh and I stuck around and chatted the women up. This was detrimental to my plan of talking to more and more girls, but the chance finding of women who enjoyed my company had kept my ass on the barstool.
I forgot about what Josh was doing as "Mechika" talked about how phenomenal and "liberal" Japanese women were in the sack. Because, I never have been with a Japanese woman, I couldn't argue.
The rest of her drink later and she was on my lap and we were making out in the bar. It was great, until:
"Matt, Josh got thrown out of the club! We have to find him!"


I tried to explain that Josh wasn't "my problem" and that I could give a "rat's ass," but they needed my help and apparently Scott left the Mystery Mobile back at home.
So, I ventured outside, with the women in tow, and explained that I would look in the bar next door: the one the women wanted to go to.
So, Scott and Chris took off on their search for the weapon of mass stupidity and I went with the girls to the patio of some club.
We shared some good times and the women offered to come back to the hotel later.......everything was coming up Matt by this time. But, they had to meet some Russians or some such intrigue. I concluded that they were spies and that they were after my polling results on religion.
So, I told them I would call later and I went to look for the ugly bastards who had drove me to Portland.
I gave up after a block and decided to phone. But, my cell was dead, so I ventured to use the pay phone. Apparently 411 doesn't auto-hook in Portland (another sign that Oregon is backward) and I gave up and hailed a cab.
In the cab, I asked the driver if he had a charger and he was nice enough to let me use it. I called Scott, thinking they were back at the hotel. Little did I know, they had taken Josh back to the hotel and had taxi'd back. I almost turned around, but then thought it would be weird to go back to the bar that the women went to, after I said I was leaving. You don't need women thinking you're following them. Plus, I was ticked that Scott and Chris had ruined my game by looking for Josh or something.
I understand that it's a bachelor party, but why are we ruining our night for the guy who already is being laid on a regular basis.
Nuts to him!
Well, come to find out, here's what had happened to the bachelor:
While chatting up the Japanese women, he had puked on himself. He then (through forces I cannot explain) went up to the bar for another drink. They wouldn't serve him (see puke) and he demanded "fucking satisfaction" and was summarily bounced out of the club.
Outside, Josh found his way to a stoop and puked on himself some more, then fell asleep.
If it wasn't for the quirky genius of Scott McCarron and his stout friend Chris, Josh would've been tazer'd.
Yes, tazer'd.
It seems that when Scott and the Dirigible came upon Josh, a fleet of Rent-a-Cops were putting on rubber gloves and getting ready to haul Josh to the poke.
In Portland, they have these roaming bands of Rent-a-Cops that will pick up drunks off the street, tazer them, and then haul them off to jail till three.
Luckily Scott and Big and Small were able to rescue Josh and take him back to the hotel.
They then taxi'd back to the club and later went to a rave with a bunch of Matrix people.
I returned to the hotel to find a comatose Josh and a trash can full of vomit.
After kicking Josh repeatedly in the groin, I called the women: no answer.
After and hour, a trip downstairs for a beer, I called again: no answer.
Again: no answer.
I decided that Josh had succeeded in ruining his bachelor party for me and went to bed.
An hour later Mechiko called back to let me know that they were NOT coming over. After begging and pleading, I hung up and went back to bed.
An hour later, Josh and Chris returned with Whoppers and the absolute WORST fries I have ever eaten.
Scott relates the cab ride back as follows:

About 3:30am Chris and I hop in a cab to head back to the hotel. We tell the cab driver that we need to stop by someplace to pick up food though before getting to the hotel. He asked where we wanted to go and we told him we had NO idea since we were from out of town. That was our first mistake....he starts rambling on about how all of the food places were in the opposite direction of where he needed to head to get to the freeway. So, he starts listing off Mexican and East Indian places that we were passing along the if we were going to stop by someplace like that. Imagine these places being similar to the Burrito shop that Josh went to by Margo and Don's in Chicago...only WORSE! I wouldn't even touch the door handle to get into these places let alone EAT something that was conjured up in the back. We eventually got back into the area that the hotel was in and Chris asked him to run down the street from the hotel to see if there was anything......and, as luck would have it....Nelson King. We pull up and order 3 Whopper with cheese meals...LARGE size (of course) with Sprite (for Chris) and the other two with Coke's. After paying for the food the cabby takes us back to the hotel....only he almost misses the entrance to the hotel so has to stop hard and pretty much slammed on his breaks. This is especially important to our situation because Chris just so happened to have his LARGE Sprite sitting between his legs while stuffing his face with fries. Well, the Sprite hits the and everything all over the floor mats. The cab driver (of East Indian decent) turns around and gives Chris the look of death. This is where Chris makes a SCC......"Stupid Chris Comment"......his exact words were "Don't worry about was just Sprite so it won't stain.....I'll just clean it up with my hand"! Cabby responds with "Sugar!!!......Sugar!!!.....Stain!!.....Sugar!!! $25 plus $3 for cleaning!". Chris proceeds to get out of the cab leaving me to carry the tray with two giant Coke's on each side and one of the bags of food along with having to pay the Cabby. I'm sitting in back of the cab saying rather calmly "It's just Sprite it won't stain your mat....just chill"! The cabby gets out of the car and walk around to Chris' door...he picks up the mat and takes it out of the car to shake it off....all the while still uttering the words "Sugar!! Stain!" repeatedly. I then get out of the cab and as I do one of the Coke's decides to fall over in the I try to rebalance the tray the fallen Coke rolls off of the tray, slams into the ground and sprays across the ground. Chris begins to walk off in his Weasel way as I stand there cracking up. I throw $25 (no, I did not give him the extra cash for cleaning) onto the back seat and watch as the Cabby continues to try and wipe away the Sprite.....all while cursing us for making a mess. Chris says to me "Let's go" and we walk away to our room leaving the irate cabby to his stain and sugar....... F'n bastard......

So, there you go. The next morning, I woke up to a room full of beer fart. We trashed (threw the Burger King around the room) the place before we left and I stole some soap and such.

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