This past weekend was my future bro-in-law's bachelor party. I think I am still drunk and will be for the next month or so. I was up for 24 hours. Started at the beach and ended in the Trump Taj Mahal at a blackjack table at 6 AM where I could barely say "hit me."

We were in Atlantic City. Not India. Trump doesn't own the real Taj Mahal. The weekend was fun. Long. But fun. I met a stripper named Jamie (or maybe it was Amy). I think she took a shine to me.

By the time I got to the blackjack table, I was drunker than most people care to be. I hadn't gambled all day so I wanted to lose some cash. I ended up winning, which was amazing because my brain wasn't working. I couldn't add. I kept having to ask the dealer "how much is that?" This wasn't difficult math. I couldn't put 7 and 5 together.

On Sunday, we went to Monmouth Park for the Haskell. We stayed for only 3 races, basically because we were all retarded. I saw some friends there, and I just stared. I couldn't talk. It was like I was back at the blackjack table but I didn't have the dealer there to guide me. The dealer's name was Frances, but I kept calling her Princess, because all I could see was the "NCES" at the end of her name tag. Although, I guess I should have been calling her Princes. Princess was better. She was my Princess at the time. Letting me win money and doing simple math for my remaining dozens of brain cells.

Anyway, I still feel somewhat out of it, so I'm going to end this and go to bed.

I'm getting rid of these comments soon. I don't like them. So get your rocks off now, because they'll be gone in a day or so and you'll just have to email me. No complaining, ya lazy bastard.