Monday of this week, I decided that I was going to make a valiant effort to stay up, without sleep, for as long as Nick Gaudio-ly possible. Truth be told, I got the idea from a Pete and Pete episode where Little Pete intentionally disobeys Mom (you know, the bitch with a plate in her head) to show that her bed-time rules are arbitrary and that he isn't a little kid anymore.

My reasons, as you'll come to find out in the next sentence, are a little less innocent. See, I was told by my buddy Dan a few weeks ago that during his tour of Iraq, he didn't sleep for four days and started tripping out. I figured that if it's a legal high; I might as well give it a go.

Now, it's 10:13 EST on Wednesday. This means that I've made it through two whole nights without a wink of shut-eye. I've seen two sunrises, realized how eerie 5 AM looks when you're not drunk and most importnatly finally met my mailman…who arrives at my apartment at…well…noon.

Nevertheless, I haven't felt a goddamned thing in the realm of mind altercation. You may have noticed that I've been acting a little strange…given the fact that those videos I've been making/posting look like something an overbaked crack-dealer might throw together with construction paper and the remainder of a glue stick the fucker didn't eat.


But still, I haven't had any hallucinations (as I WAS FUCKING PROMISED!) until 5 minutes ago when another, BETTER (!!!!) friend named Dan emailed me and told me that he's getting married to his girlfriend of five years, Jess.

We all saw this coming. Dan and Jess are essentially that college couple who everybody looks at and marvels that they don't go out and fuck other people. Also, they're quite a pleasure to have around in general.

What I didnt' see coming, though, was what else was in the e-mail.

You see, while a great guy, Dan has been an unsociable bastard in the last few years (heh). That means that the only four friends he has (close-knit as hell) are going to be his collective best men.

Cutesy bullshit aside (YOU FUCKING BITCHES!), I'm apparently his pick for not one of his best men, nor an usher…nor his flower girl…but the, and I quote, “Guy who'll give the speech at the reception…and maybe the bachelor party if the strippers want somebody to recite Poe.”

To Dan I say:
Dan, I know you still read my blog and I'm going to answer you in the nicest way possible…

Are you fucking insane?

I mean, not insane about the wedding. Jess is a great girl and I think you should rope her in as fast as your Wii-addicted hands are able to (provided you don't lose at Golf or Bowling or Anal Penetration…whatever the fuck you do with that dildo-lookin' thing).

What I'm saying is that asking ME to write something that will be read on your “sentencing day” is like asking Hitler to perform a briss.

You know that I love public speaking…especially when it comes to my own work…but to have me write something cute and short and polite is really a stretch. I know you think you're doing me a favor (like that brunette you set me up with back in September who wouldn't shut the fuck up about her Boston Terrier); but I think I'm doing you a favor by letting it be known that if I do write something…it's going to be dirty and it's going to be funny.

I realize that your mother still thinks that I write quaint little poems about fall leaves and she probably suggested that I fill the void (like I do everytime I'm back in Cumberland…HAh-HO!), but just think how your GRANDNONNA IS GONNA FEEL WHEN I GET UP AND TELL YOUR HUGE FUCKING FAMILY ABOUT HOW YOU AND JESS MET.

I think the readers of PIC would like to know that.


You see, back in high school, old Dan was a bitter emo kid. Jess, on the other hand, was as fly as a Venus trap.

They both went to different schools than me, but I knew both from various activities. Dan and I had met because he lived about three houses down; Jess was a cheerleader for Allegany…our rival school…and I was, believe it or not, a football player.

Well, as fate would have it, both of those losers got a job at the Cumberland Country Club. Dan was a caddy; Jess was a lifeguard.

The first day Dan got off work, he called me and asked if I wanted to go to the Club's pool. I was 16 and wanted to see rich, hot, spoiled bitches in bikinis so I immediately accepted.

We got to the pool about six.

Dan looked up, saw Jess in her slinky little lifeguard get-up and as the humor gods would have it, got a boner. I mean, the poor bastard was at least ten miles away from his biology book; he had nothing to do but grin and bear it.

Jess, like all sluts, was flattered (heh…just kidding). She actually did what most girls would do and got extremely embarassed.

Dan, who like I said, was an emo kid, ran out of the pool and into the club house to calm himself and possibly weep like an abused calf.

I, who didn't quite care to see Dan's erection/trail of tears any longer, decided to just sit by the pool and “read”…which meant (and still means) that I was actually just looking at the other brunette lifeguard's ass.

But, as the old saying goes, love conquers all. Dan somehow got the grits to talk to Jess later that summer and Jess somehow overlooked the fact that the guy persuing her (Dan) was a complete hormone-laiden toolbag.


So yeah Dan, do you still want me to do it?

I mean, what would your Uncle Jake think? I'm sure he'd love to hear about how I walked in on you and Jess fucking on my dirty futon on Good Friday. I figure I'll end with “Aren't you Catholic you slimy bastard? Didn't your savior die that day?!??”


But seriously Dan, if you still want me to do it after this blog post, well then ya bastard…I'll do it if you pair me up with Jess's sister (Kate… not the fat one). One date, that's all I'm asking.

Hell, for an open bar tab, I might just make it sound like you too were meant for each other.

Let me know soon, I want to start my drafts.

Oh yeah…and I'm sure as hell not dressing up.

Your almost best friend (but not good enough to be an usher, you fuckface),
Nick “Guido” Gaudio

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