STRAIGHT FROM THE MUT

Last Friday, Bon Jovi graced Soldier Field. We, of course, used this opportunity to get absolutely shit housed and bring back the 80’s. I felt like I was getting ready for the prom. I must have spent 40 minutes frothing my mullet. Randi and I get to Soldier Field, and there were PLENTY of dudes in cutoff shirts and jean shorts. And that was just the people with us. Rosie even whipped out a braided leather belt for the occasion, although, to him, the “occasion” was that it was the weekend.

 It’s always nice to see one of the bands I grew up with. I remember being in 4th grade when “Living on a Prayer” came out. I remember the controversy over the “Living in Sin” video. And of course, I remember “I’ll Be There for You”. That was the classic “try to hook up with your camp girlfriend” song. I’ve been trained like one of Pavlov’s dogs. I hear that song, and I immediately fumble with the nearest bra clasp and beg for the girl to “please, just touch it.”

This is how old Bon Jovi is. Their NEW stuff came out in 1995. And don’t tell me they had some new songs lately. I only count real Bon Jovi songs. Ones that came out before they made the move from MTV to VH1, and more importantly, while I was still making mix tapes.

I don’t how it happened, but I got so blinding drunk that by the end of the show, I managed to get lost and end up in the ladies room. And when some women called me out on it, I just held up my wedding ring and said “It’s ok. I’m married. I’m not trying to look.” And one of the chicks just said. We don’t care if you look, but you’re peeing on yourself.”

Of course, my descent into a total puddle was helped along by the fact that we showed up FOUR hours before the show to tailgate. And anytime OGR and Rosie are in charge, you know the Miller Lite is going to be flowing. Unfortunately, the 9 dozen wings I ate did nothing to help soak up the beer. Actually, I was doing just fine till I got challenged by some chicks who brought a beer bong. I keep nervously looking over at Randi and telling them I “wasn’t allowed”. But they just kept calling me out. I was like Will Ferrell in that party scene from Old School. Except less funny. And more hairy. And instead of Snoop Dog making a cameo after, we had Mrs. OGR dancing.

Anyway, Saturday night, Rubes had the false alarm of the century. He called me up, and told me to get over to Reserve because he had a table, 3 bottles and it was him and “7 hot chicks”. He’s like “call your brother, call TB, just get some guys over here to help me out.” So I make all the calls and head over there to help him out. And you know who his 7 hot chicks were? His sister, his fiancé, her 3 sisters (1 married), and 2 friends, one of whom is engaged. WTF? Exactly which of these girls were you planning to pimp out? Thank God my brother and his crew didn’t come flying over. They would have fucking killed me. Hey Rubes. Ever hear of the boy who cried wolf?