So last night, I had a wedding to attend. For thoe of you who do not know, I am an ordained minister. Performing weddings is a side gig of mine, done mainly for the cake. So I got all tarted up, wearing my flashy suit and reverends collar and drove to the Adolphus Hotel. I married the couple, and then hung out and drank and ate with some people I had met at a wedding earlier on in the year.
So my bad influence, Kim, suggested that after I am done with the wedding, I should come join her and her entourage at some fine establishment. So like always, we trek up to the Londoner. Kim, her sister and her boyfriend were already enjoying themselves, and I walked into the bar. I got quite a few strange looks from people, particularly the bouncer. I think people were expecting a boy scout and the president to follow. So I walk in, and find Kim after navigating all the stares. I sit down at the table and order a Newxastle. I am convinced if Jesus were English he would have turned water into Newcastle, not wine. So anyway, I order my drink and Vi orders up shots, red headed sluts, and we drank those. The Newcastles flowed freely. Vi and her boyfriend left, and then Heather arrived. As we sat there chatting, some guys walked over and asked to take a picture with the reverend. Afterwards they asked to sit with us, top which the always alcoholic Kim responded, "Only if you buy Fr Simon a Newcastle." So they proceeded to purchase all 3 of us a pint, they sat down with us. Now not only have I never been to a bar in my collar, although I have drank in it at weddings before, I have also never been molested while wearing it. Heather likes nipples. She started to caress me behind Kim's back as our new friends watched on in horror. The Heather leaned over and took a good bite at my nipple. I am now permanently scarred on my nipple and I believe this is God's way of punishing me for drinking while being a holy man. After last call, Kim and I went to J's for some coffee with another friend, Chad. As we walked in I blessed the people eating shitty food, and was approached by a Greek Orthodox who asked me what something meant. I had no idea, and we walked on. While we were sitting at our table, it came to me. The shocker. 2 in the pink, 1 in the stink. I walked back to his table but alas he was gone. So we had so much fun last night, I think next week I am donning the collar and Kim, Heather and I are going to a topless bar. We will be struck by lightning then.
A priest, a blonde, and Kim walk into a bar
Current mood: crazy
My Favorite Brit, Simon, is an ordained minister (non-denominational) and actually officiates weddings from time to time. So last week, he told me that he was marrying a couple on Saturday and was wondering what we were doing that night. So immediately we told him we were drinking with him in his holy garb.
So, as USUAL my sis, Lalo, and I ended up at our favorite smelly pub, the Londoner. We began drinking and an hour later, in walks Simon with his fashionable priest look. Black shirt, white reverend collar, black suit. Very sporty and dapper...and religious looking. We immediately got him a beer and proceeded to try and get Reverend Simon smashed. Which wasn't going to be hard since he had already imbibed the "holy wine" at the wedding. He told us that the bouncer seemed shocked to see him at the door. All through the night Simon would get double takes and curious looks from the other bar patrons. My friend Heather (trouble-maker) arrived twenty minutes later. After a few beers, three guys approached and asked to take a picture of our Holy Man. So all four of them gathered around with beers in hand and had their pictures taken with Reverend Simon. Then they asked if they could sit with us. I told them they could sit with us under one condition- they buy Father Simon a beer. So they bought us a round. So while we were enjoying our hard earned beers Heather decided to molest the Father and actually BIT him on the nipple. The dudes at our table were flabbergasted.
Father Simon managed to get us free beer, was a dude magnet, and got his nipple bitten- all in one night. He told me for the free beer alone - it was worth wearing the minister suit every Saturday. Ahhhh, good times to be had. Next time I shall remember the camera! (Doh!)
And Heather's take:
Number 1 reason I am going to Hell
Current mood: Angelic
Category: Angelic Religion and Philosophy
At some point last Saturday night I fled the evil confines of Uptown, habitat of the Dallas Douchbag Clan, to seek solace at a good bar with my friend Kim and her friend, the devout Reverend Simon.
Reverend Simon is a real Reverend – he's ordained (non-denominational) and has married over 100 couples. This guy can also knock back the beers like a college frat boy, although unlike a frat boy, he's English, he can hold his liquor, and he's has a great sense of humor. Prior to meeting Reverend Simon a few weeks ago, the last Reverend I'd had an encounter with was a steamroller by the name of Reverend Red Haze. That steamroller was one evil bastard. So, whenever I'm in the goodly Reverend Simon's company, I tend to keep one eye on him. He might carry a bible, but so do Catholic Priests, and I really don't need to comment further than that.
Anyway, by the time I arrived, Kim and the pious Reverend were stuck into the booze. Simon was wearing his black priest garb, complete with the white collar, as he had just come from marrying a couple. This seemed to intimidate most of the patrons, as no one would come near our table. I guess bar patrons see a priest in a pub and think they are going to hell faster than normal if a man of the cloth spots them drinking booze, smoking, or chasing tail. It's like they think the Reverend is going to send a text message to god that says, "hey, man. Don't let this cat in - you should have seen the shit he was getting up to 12/02/07 at the Londoner Pub at 12:05 a.m. Check out YouTube."
Despite the fear factor, three guys approached Simon and asked if they can take a picture with them, which is pretty funny in itself. Kim wisely suggests that they can - if they buy us a drink. Nicely done Kim. So we get a free pint and the young lads join us. We all chat and laugh. I pass my flask of single malt whiskey to Friar Simon a few times, and we sipped on the peaty goodness that is Taliskar. During this time, Simon became "Father Simon" and the Father Ted and Father Jack references began to come out, "Feck, Shit, Arse!" It was also around this time that Kim and I go to the bathroom, and I show her the fabulous duct tape bra I was wearing. Yes, I was drunk, but in my defense, Kim is pretty hot, and Father Jack is a really funny character.
Anyway, the next thing I know, the good Reverend asked me to feel his nipples. As Kim was sitting between us, I had to reach around her back to get to him. Once I found the nipple and gave it good rub, a demon began to speak inside my head, and it told me to bite Father Simon. I guess that's what happens when you drink Newcastle and Scotch: you become processed by a malignant, nipple-biting, archfiend of Satan. So I bit him, pretty hard too. In all seriousness though, how many times will I get to bite a priest's nipple? I had to do it. It's gotta be good luck, like rubbing the budda's belly. Plus I was curious; what does a priest tastes like anyway – wine and wafers? Newcastle and cigarettes? No, he just tasted like cloth, and I did not burst into flames.
It was soon after this that the 3 guys vacated the table – pretty quick. They must have figured that if I'd bit a priest, I'd bite them as well. Go figure. Most people don't receive nipple biting in a positive light. If they did, they would be freaks, and I'm talking like "Freaks of the Industry" type of freaks, like nipple-clamp types of freaks. Yikes.
So much for an innocent night of drinking with my friend and the reverend. Should I feel remorse for biting Father Simon? Nahhh. I'll just by him a pint at the topless bar that Kim is taking us to next weekend. All three of us are going to hell regardless of what we do now, so I suppose I should really earn it.