Sunday, May 28, 2006

ThePeach Celebrates Victoria Day Long Weekend

My friend QueenB’s parents own a cottage resort in lake country, and they are sweet enough to let us use a cottage every May 2-4. They also cook us food for when we come home from the bar, which makes them the Best. Parents. Ever.

Anyway, this year WeeOne, TheHubby, TheHippie, Cleavage, QueenB, Workahol and I all gathered at the cottage for 4 days and 3 nights of what promised to be excessive drinking, eating, and drinking. As we live in fucking Canada, we knew it was too much to hope for sun and warmth over the weekend. We were proven right by the hailstorm, constant rain, and the fact that we could see our breath anytime we ventured outdoors. Fucking Canada.

FauxHawk, who, along with TheCrazy and other assorted MedFriends, was going to TOP’s cottage down the road, drove WeeOne and I to QueenB’s cottage. It was a beautiful, sunny day and, as we drove out of UniversityTown, I think each of us felt a little lighter with the promise of the weekend ahead.

Until 10 minutes onto the highway, when FauxHawk got pulled over by the ‘Po.

Fucking, fucking speedtraps!!

FauxHawk got slapped with a $320 ticket. Apparently dropping the M-bomb doesn’t work on the ‘Po when you get caught driving 40 over the speed limit:

*Hawkmobile gets pulled over*

FauxHawk: SHIIIIIT FUCK FUCK FUCK!
ThePeach: *doesn’t speak for fear of angering FauxHawk*
WeeOne: *doesn’t speak for fear of angering FauxHawk*
TheCrazy: *wakes up* Hey dudes, are we there already? WOOO Cottage!
ThePeach: No…FauxHawk got pulled over.
TheCrazy: Were you speeding??
FauxHawk: SHIIIIIT FUCK FUCK FUCK!
TheCrazy: Listen to me, FauxHawk. Drop the M-bomb. I’m serious. Tell him you’re a doctor. You have nothing to lose.
FauxHawk: SHIIIIIT FUCK FUCK FUCK!
‘Po: *knocks on window* We clocked you going at 144 km/hr, which is going to be $290, plus a $30 victim fee for your passengers here. Where are you heading?
FauxHawk: We just graduated from MedSchool and we’re going to a cottage to celebrate. Med. School.
‘Po: Here’s your $320 ticket.
FauxHawk: Med…school…?
‘Po: Bye, now.
FauxHawk: SHIIIIT FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Since the Hawkmobile got pulled over within the first 15 minutes of the trip, that meant that we traveled the next 2 hours in complete, horrible, tense silence. Nobody wanted to talk for fear of FauxHawk losing his shit, and FauxHawk didn’t want to talk for fear of breaking into gut-wrenching sobs (I’m speculating). It was not so fun.

But we made it; I kissed FauxHawk goodbye and ordered TheCrazy to get him smashed.

Then I cracked a drink and got baseline drunk, which I kept going the entire long weekend. As I was drunk for 4 days straight, my memories of the weekend are a little blurred. Here are some highlights that I have recalled:

* QueenB’s sister had 3 of her friends staying in the next cottage. They were all Business students and typical Type A’s. They also brought hair straighteners and Vuitton purses to the cottage, which made me and my dirty hoodie feel like a Hobo. But they were fun to hang out with, mainly because the leader of their group couldn’t sit still for one second unless she was playing some sort of organized game and she forced us to play along. Have you ever played Cranium while tanked? With a group of type As? Versus a group of hobo’ish, too smart for their own good UniversityTown geeks? It got real ugly real fast. I definitely threw at least one temper tantrum: “WHAT DO YOU FUCKING MEAN, THEY GOT THE SENSE-O-SKETCH FIRST???!!! MY TEAM GOT THE FUCKING SENSE-O-SKETCH LIKE 5 SECONDS BEFORE YOUR FUCKING TEAM!!! YOU COMMIE BITCHES ARE CHEATING!!!” Also, nobody could guess what my clay unicorn was because THEY ARE FUCKING STUPID!

* We also played “Kings” (the complicated drinking game involving a deck of cards) late into the night one evening. One of the rules of the game was that when you pick up a certain card, you get to make up a rule that everyone has to follow for the rest of the game, and if you fuck up then you have to drink. Our rules were that you could only ever refer to yourself as “The Captain” (as in, please pass TheCaptain the bottle of Bambino) and that you had to end every sentence you spoke with “cock”. Then it became “cock. ass.”. We’re so hilarious/creative.

TheHubby: TheCaptain needs more Bambino. Cock. Ass.
ThePeach: TheCaptain will go get you more! Cock. Ass.
TheHubby: TheCaptain loves you, ThePeach! Cock. Ass.
ThePeach: I love – I mean, TheCaptain lo-
All: DRRRRIIIIINNNNNK! Cock. Ass.
ThePeach: Shit. Cock. Ass.

* TheHippie brought her guitar and I sat at her feet and sang along like the lesbian I am. Then we both sang in beautiful, lesbian harmony.

*Speaking of lesbian, TheHippie got so tanked one night that she slept in every single bed in the cottage trying to find me. We were supposed to be sharing a bed and I went to bed before her, and in her drunkenness she could not find me. Even though I woke up when I heard her come in, she walked right up to the bed I was in, and I had a conversation with her about how she should make sure to get into the right bed. She said “Ya, ok” and then walked into Cleavage’s room and got into bed with her. Cleavage kicked her out after a few hours. Then TheHippie stumbled into TheHubby’s bed and tried to cuddle with him. He got out of bed and woke me up. I then went to TheHubby’s bed and spooned TheHippie, and TheHubby slept in my bed. Order was restored in the universe.

* On our last night, we got high. Really, really high. And I got really philosophical, as usual. We were sitting around a table in the cottage, eating leftover salad, which prompted me to begin this conversation:

ThePeach: *gnaws on lettuce* You guys…we are like animals.
All: *gnaws on lettuce* what?
TheHippie: *hysterical laughter*
ThePeach: Seriously, guys…we are eating, get this, PLANTS. Fucking plants out of the ground. This lettuce is fucking grass. We are fucking animals.
TheHippie: *hysterical laughter*
ThePeach: If we’re just going to eat grass, why don’t we just let ourselves live like the animals we are? Why do we have the charade? Why do we dance this crazy dance of pretending? There was a time that we used to live in fields and give birth holding onto trees. Like fucking mammals. We are fucking mammals.
Cleavage: I totally get you.
WeeOne: You guys…we’re like That 70’s Show. Just sitting around a table high.
ThePeach: We used to live like that mammals we are. In the past. The past…
TheHippie: *tears rolling down face*
WeeOne: I’m Jackie!!! And TheHippie is Donna!! And TheHubby and QueenB are Red and Kitty!! OH MY GOD!
ThePeach: You guys…have you ever thought about the past? Like really thought about it?? Like evolution and shit. Shit.

This continued for x hours, we ate a can of icing (another one!!! Damnit!!), a brick of cheese, and a jar of salsa – then we passed out.

* The next morning I vowed to stop eating shitty food so that my body would stop growing back fat. That lasted until we went out for breakfast. It was a valiant effort, though.

* 1 week later (last night, in fact), Cleavage, TheHippie, WeeOne and I smoked the last of the cottage weed. Then we watched a Family Guy episode about THE PAST. It fucked me right up. Everything came full circle.

That was my May 2-4. I need to go into detox.

TheCaptain. Cock. Ass.

4 comments:

steph said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
WeeOne said...

Oh come on now... do you actually think we had no clue what the unicorn was.... you are just making fun of thehubby's and mine's knowledge...
i blame it on the bottle of wine i was drinking at the time.

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