This is one of those stories that I was reminded of tonight by a friend. It takes place in various spots in Northern BC and it involves one of the nicest, most naive men I’ve ever known. His name is Frick, because the motherfricker said it so often. Seriously. The only time he would actually swear, was when he was quoting what someone else had said. The funny thing was that working in the oilfield gave him lots of opportunity to cuss his face off, while never having to actually swear. The first time I was ever in a vehicle with him was really weird. He drove extremely fast on really bad roads, all the while telling me stories with lots of swearing in quotations. I’ll try to demonstrate with Frick in quotation marks and the original quote in italics. Keep in mind that there are quotes inside of quotes, and the entire thing is a quote from Frick Continue reading
There wasn’t a cab driver in Cobourg that didn’t know that address in the 90’s. Some of the best times, with the best people happened right there. I don’t remember the exact circumstances of how I ended up being invited over there, almost every night, but I think it had to do with Mickey and the boys eating at the restaurant all the time.
It was a constant party there. I mean it. Someone was drinking there every night of the week. It was crazy. We did a lot of stupid shit at that house, like building a potato cannon and lobbing whatever fruits and vegetables we could stuff into it over the houses towards the lake. It was a few streets back, so I doubt any of them made it, but when you are hammered at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, your trajectory knowledge of Lysol propelled produce is not at it’s peak.
I remember the day that Rocket and I finished the cannon. We were so excited, that we couldn’t wait to go to the store and buy potatoes, so we raided Mick’s fridge and cupboards. we got peaches, lemons, apples and potatoes. We had a cut off hockey stick as a ramrod, and an electronic BBQ sparker as our ignition source. It was pretty slick, let me tell you. Continue reading
Well, we had the second Halloween party of the year, and it was a beaut. I say that, because I stayed sober and drove everyone around, so I got to watch and remember what all was going on. That’s right, you bunch of freaky fuckers, I saw what you all were doing. You had better be really damn nice to me from now on. That means all of you.
So, after dinner, and then drinks at Dora and Swiper’s house, we hauled ass to the Castleton Hall for the annual Halloween Dance. It worked out great, because everyone had parties to go to on the Saturday before the big day. This meant two opportunities to wear our fabulous Muppet costumes that Gadget had skillfully handcrafted from PXL Crosslinked Foam. That stuff is very good to work with, but pretty heavy duty for mask making. Mine weighed around 30 lbs, but it was the first one. The rest were a little more trimmed out, and it probably shaved five pounds off of the weight. The Castleton Hall is really cool too, because…
If you are looking for the first part of this production, click Where’s My God Damned Shoe
Well, we had better get the rest of these photos posted, before Gadget vows to double his intake for next year. You’ll see by the pics near the end, that that is not necessary. Because I’m posting these in chronological order, the more sober and tame ones were near the start. He hasn’t seen what’s to come yet, but I’m sure when he does, he’ll be one proud peacock.
On another note, I really think we should hire a photographer for these parties, because it’s pretty irresponsible to rely on the drunk people for photo remembering. Every once in awhile, I would see the camera and start shooting from the hip, but then there was a chance of seeing the Wicklow Bush, so I abandoned that plan. If anyone else got any good pics that are not too lurid, send ’em my way. I’ll throw them up on the page. I had to erase the good pic of the cake vodka donor, so if anyone has one, I’d love to out him.
Anyhow, back to the photos.
That’s what I was probably yelling at the end of Gadget and Penny’s annual Halloween Extravaganza. I am just assuming that I was saying that, because I ended up going home with only one. It’s okay, my constant puking kept my mind off of my one cold foot. That’s right, I attended far too many meetings. Meetings that last year, I warned you against. There were actually a bunch of birthday celebration meetings, until the cake flavoured vodka ran out. then we were back to sambuca, Sour Puss, and dirty, old Mamajuana. I’m fairly certain that’s what put the nails in my coffin, but it could have been sheer quantity as well. I ate the worm shooters that made me choke last year too, but I knew they were in it this time around, so I lived through it. There were a lot of new faces, and a lot more old ones. I honestly got drunk enough that I was surprised at a lot of the pictures, and The Cleave hasn’t even shown what’s on hers. I had to pick through our camera and delete well over half of them for different reasons. Nudity, work, and lewd behaviour that could end in possible divorce were the three main ones. (Don’t worry, fuckers, I’ll never tell.)
I’m going to let the pictures do the talking, but first I need to tell you that we have enough pics for three posts. I say that is too many, so I’m going to weed it down to two, unless you want to see the rest. If you do, just leave a comment on here, FB, Twitter or Google+. I am going to post all of them on the G+ page anyhow, so it’s not like you can’t see them. Alright, here we go.