So I kind of glossed over James' bachelor party in yesterday's entry. Let me clarify that now.

Yes, I did drink a lot of beer. And I would have had a good time if not for the fact that James' brother in-law, David (pictured, right), was there, and David is an utter asshole.

Now I realize that I'm the best man, and I'm responsible for the bachelor party. But for the most part all my invited guests flaked out on me and James felt like he had to invite David.

James had to do it; I wasn't calling the motherfucker.

He made fun of my urban hipster shirt, which I can deal with. The black and gold satin with black velvet details is not for everybody, but it's hard to bite back a smart comment when someone wearing a bootleg Tommy Hilfiger shirt says something about your wardrobe.

And he gave James a hard time for not drinking too much. Jesus, you moron, it's his party. He can drink water, sit naked and jerk off in a flower pot if that's what he wants to do.

Asshole asshole asshole.

We went to two different bars, and David was a complete peckerhead at both of them.

Had he just been some dude, or had I not been responsible for the evening, I would have ducked out at the first opportunity, leaving his punk-ass and going to find some David-free fun. James couldn't leave, though, so neither could I.

David was a boor, the first time I've truly met someone who lived up to that name. He was a horrid, dull, common person who put a serious damper on what could have been a fun evening.

Hey, Dave - you're not coming to any more of my parties. And that's a promise.

[Note: I want to state here, for the record, that none of this is James' opinion. He could have had a lovely time and enjoyed the company of his sister's husband immensely, for all I know. But I didn't! This, gentle reader, is the truth from my perspective. Just so you know.]

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