I'm An Asshole

This weekend my buddy Vince is having his bachelor party up in the Socialist hotbed which is Milwaukee. As you already may know, I will not be in attendance of the b-party because a pair of self-serving fucks decided to get married on a holiday weekend and invite me. Thanks, ruiners.

Vince's best man/ brother started up an e-mail chain last week with a bunch of the details involving said party. The e-mail thread had started to lose some life a few days ago, so I decided to inject it full of party-hearty Al Fritz flavor.

I “replied-to-all” a classic tale from a road trip up to St. Paul, MN to see the groom-to-be back in the Spring of '99. The story loosely wraps around me, a moe. concert, and a newly single little Minnesotan temptress.

I'd post the entire story here, but it basically reads like a hilarious porn, and since there is a good chance I will die in the next two years (damn this dysentery!) I do not wish to be known as an Internet porn writer. The last thing I need is for the following conversation to take place at my ten year high school reunion:

Person #1: “I can’t believe Al died.”

Person #2: “Yeah... that must have been a hell of a case of gout.”

Person #1: “I thought it was dysentery.”

Person #3: “Actually, he had both. And scurvy. But, hey... that’s what happens when you refuse to eat limes as a teenager and floss your teeth irregularly.”

Person #1: “I’ll be damned. What was he doing with his life anyway?”

Person #3: “Last I heard, he was writing porno on the Internets.”

Persons #1 & 2: “Oh…”

Really, Really Hot Chick: “I wish he was still around. If he was, I would totally make him a bacon sandwich and bang him right here, right now.”

The Ghost of Me: “NOOOOOOOO!!!!”

So, I'll keep that little e-mail in the trust tree, thank you very much.

Anway, before I replied-to-all, I failed for whatever reason (read: extensive recreational drug use as a young adult) to check the list of recipients for the e-mail. And as it turns out, Vince's dad was on the list. Awwwww-kkkkkk-ward.

So now my buddy's father (who I’m pretty sure goes to AA meetings with my dad and God only knows what they talk about in there) has read all of the sordid, slippery, and downright dirty details of an 18-year-old Al Fritz's sexual exploits on a chilly night in March of 1999. This will definitely make for some fine small talk in between the toasts and the cake cutting at Vince's wedding, no?

And however awkwardly entertaining as that will be, nothing will beat hilarity of the electronic mail which we all received an hour after I sent in my wild, wacky, and perverted tale:

"As interesting as this email is.... kfoley@ipsinc.com is not a correct email address and it is coming to me instead. So pls delete this from your address book.

PS It sounds more like a bad porno script than reality!

Don [last name withheld]
Polyurethane Technologist International
Polyurethane Systems Inc."

Oh… my.

So, I take this little slice of the Internets to send my formal apology to Mr. Don.
I'm sorry that you had to read about one of my sexual romps which may or may not have contained some sort of analogy between "hand sex" and all-time bad asses The Legion of Doom. And I'm sorry you had to read about public face-sucking and missing socks from a total stranger. And I’m really sorry you had to read the term "she wanted a bowl full of Cock n' Noodle soup."

I'm sorry, Don.


[have a great holiday weekend, everybody. remember to keep in mind what this holiday is really all about: solving tupac's murder.]

this is killing me for some weird reason.
I'm fairly erect, Al. Send me the full transcript so I can polish this off.
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