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6:37 a.m. - 2005-03-14

SON OF THE REDNECK WEDDING FROM HELL


Soooo ... I did this party on Saturday night ...

This was the one where the young kids were getting married and they wanted nothing but rap for their party and the groom kept screaming violent rap lyrics while the bride was on the phone with me.

'Member??

I start playing music ("Let's Get It Started" by Black Eyed Peas ... I figured it'd be a good song to "get started" for a bunch of rap fans) and I overheard this girl say "He might as well be playing Ashlee Simpson because the Black Eyed Peas are just as shitty as Ashlee Simpson".

Oooooooo-kaaaay.

While the FIRST FUCKING SONG is playing, this big redneck comes up to me and says "What rap do you have?"

"I've got everything but five songs," I said. "What do you want to hear?"

"Got any Field Mob?" he asked.

Hmmmm ... I've never heard of Field Mob.

"Nope," I said. "But I've got Goodie Mobb."

"You've got Goodie Mobb??" the guy said, all excited.

"Yeah! I ... "I said as I started flipping through my stuff to see exactly which Goodie Mobb song I had.

Oops.

I don't have Goodie Mobb.

"I don't have Goodie Mobb," I confessed.

"You said you had it" Big Assed Redneck says.

"I know," I said, flipping through the pages of my song directory as if doing this would make a song magically appear. "I thought I did. I must have left it at home."

The kid started naming rappers I had never heard of. King Stevie Dice was one of them. I'm guessing he's some local piece of shit because he's not on Google.

Finally, he asked for T.I.

I had some T.I.

He got excited that I had T.I.

I played T.I.

... Aaaaand everyone went outside to smoke.



For two hours, I played rap for these kids who were wearing their baggy pants and their bandannas with backwards baseball caps on top of the bandannas.

And only the girls danced because the guys were too cool to dance. Bitches. Don't you know they's loco? They ain't no dancin' in the 'hood, yo.

Then it was time for the bride and groom to toast each other.

So they come up to the dance floor and the bride mumbles something about how this marriage is going to last forever, blah blah blah.

I give it four months. Tops.

The bride is very pretty. Petite blonde wearing a tiara all night.

The groom starts to speak.

He's a normal looking kid who hadn't brushed his hair in days. The waistline of his pants are down around his knees.

While the bride's father videotapes them, the groom starts doing his best to talk like a gangsta rapper.

"I love youse, yo G," he says. "Bitches be frontin' when they says we ain't go' make it, yo. They all bitches. Fuck 'em."

They interlock arms and drink champagne.

I couldn't help but think ... IF IF IF IF IF this marriage makes it to ... I dunno ... let's say 10 years ... this kid is going to feel like a fucking idiot because by the time he's 31, he's HOPEFULLY going to have dropped this whole gangsta-speak shit. Because I know I cringe when I watch the videotape of our wedding reception where I'm walking around drunk, guzzling out of a champagne bottle and slurring to the preacher who married us not to "worry about me".

And it wasn't because he was a product of his environment. His dad spoke clear as a bell.

So then a few other people try to do heart-felt toasts to the couple but it's painfully obvious that nobody thinks this marriage is going to last.

Then ... Trouble wants to speak.

Trouble is this guy who they really referred to as "Trouble".

He was about 5'4" ... 250 lbs. He was wearing his best Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned to the waist of course, and his hair was going in about 30 different directions.

"I got somethin' to say," he bellowed, stumbling to the dance floor while the groom's father was toasting them.

The bride's mother cut him off before he could make it to the dance floor.

"No Trouble," she said firmly. "Go sit down now."

"I wa' say some shit 'bout them!" he yelled.

The bride's father, holding the videocamera tried to shoot Trouble a look that said "Don't you fucking ruin this, Trouble."

But Trouble couldn't see a foot in front of himself.

Finally, the toasting was done and Trouble was successfully kept away from all the people toasting because his toast would have most definitely included the phrase "Split the bitch wide open tonight, beeyotch!"

I put some Ludacris on.

And Trouble decided to dance.

Trouble had one dance move. And he stole that from Kevin Bacon.

He fell to his knees and then bent backwards until the back of his head touched the dance floor.

It was pretty impressive for a guy that weighed so much.

But the first time he did it, he popped the bottom button of his Hawaiian shirt, exposing his big assed pasty belly.

Trouble had to make a decision ... button his shirt up using the rest of the buttons still intact ... or just remove his shirt entirely.

The shirt was pulled off, whipped around his head several times and then thrown toward the table hosting the bride and groom's parents.

I'm sure the groom's parents were thrilled.

Then it was time for the lap dances.

First, the groom was put in his chair and the bride grinded her ass for about four minutes into his crotch.

I'm sure the bride's parents were proud.
There's their little girl doing her best impression of a drug-addicted stripper.

Then the bride sat in the chair ... and all her bridesmaids grinded on her.

Two girls literally lifted the bride's legs and rode them, rubbing their crotches against her legs like professionals while the rest rubbed their breasts against the bride's face.

It was only a matter of time before Trouble felt that he deserved some of the action so he ran up, pulled the bride out of the chair and slumped into the chair, eyes wide open as these young girls rubbed their crotches all over him.

Then Trouble took one of the girls and put her in the chair.

He then straddled her and began thrusting his crotch HARD against her chest.

Like a rabbit.

I thought he was going to do irreparable lung damage to the girl.

He kept doing it until he heard some applause start up which was his signal that he had effectively entertained these rednecks and he stopped.

He pulled the girl out of her seat.

And the girl, showing her appreciation ... and the damage done ... pulled the spaghetti straps of her tank top down ... and exposed her reddened boobies for everyone.

I'm sure the groom's mother was crying on the inside.

(TOMORROW: More of the Redneck Wedding From Hell II)


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