Southwest Airlines is the greatest form of transportation in the civilized world. I don't care what you've seen on the news about their unsafe planes or any of that propaganda. It's all lies. LIES I SAY. Nothing can tarnish the fine reputation SWA has built up in my world. Why, you ask?
Cuz they gave me free fucking beer, that's why.
The last time you graced this fine blog, you were undoubtedly shocked and disturbed by the ending of part 1...how would Milo survive the midwest without a jacket? How would we all survive a hungover flight to the midwest? As Mikey would say...this is a good'er.
For the first half of the flight, there were maybe 20 people on the whole plane, which was fine by us. We all felt like bags of smashed assholes, as expected...till the flight attendants started chatting us up. One was pretty good looking, one was...well, old...but they were both super friendly. We ordered drinks, they promptly brought them..and when we went to pay...they wouldn't let us. Well, this was a good sign! Paul and me were sitting together, Jeff and Rob were behind us. Paul wanted to sleep, so I drank his. When it came time to order round 2, I ordered one for him...cuz ya know, I'm a nice guy. Round 2 arrives...again, they won't take our money. Round 2 is promptly guzzled. Paul didn't wake up in that 46 seconds, so I drank his too...and politely stacked the cans on his tray. Arrival at Salt Lake (stopover) added a plethora of new passengers, so we figured our windfall was over. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
Or not.
Round 3? Free. Round 4? Free. Paul = still asleep. Tim = 2 beers. Paul's tray = 4 more empty cans. By Round 5, we were trying to actually force them to take our money, which I think they did from Jeff. I'm not really sure what their rationale was for the charity, other than we were entertaining...Jeff or Rob might remember, but I was 10 beers deep at 11AM PST, after consuming half a brewery the night before. Leave me alone, dammit.
Around this time, Paul woke up. The look on his face was fucking priceless as he tried to compute the 10 empty beer cans on his tray...then he looked at me, and just started laughing. I guess I was kinda unsober. Jeff and Milo weren't far behind. After laughing about this for a little while longer...we arrived!
We were waaay too gassed for public transportation. Cabbed it to the hotel, which was pretty nice. Straight to the store for 24 beers. Stocked our 2 fridges, relieved a few cans of their contents, and went to check this place out.
We were staying right next to Laclede's Landing, which is a large area of bars, restaurants, etc. We saw probably 90% of the bars. At some point we got split up, since Jeff and I wanted to check out a brewpub that Pauly and Milo weren't interested in. We ended up finding them in a club later, after been led there by a posse of poon from Decatur, Illinois. Yea, I dunno where it is either. After having a fatty give me a lapdance (as usual, the fattys love me, but no one else does), we paraded around for a while in our jerseys like the attention whores that we were, and bought large portions of meat from a meat vendor.
What's a meat vendor, you ask?
You know the hot dog stands outside of bars? Just like that...except they sell BBQ'd stuff. Brisket, pulled pork, rib sandwiches...it was pretty fucking crazy. I got the rear left leg of a cow for 4 dollars. I found half of it in the bathroom the next day, for some reason. [Feedback edit - this was not an attempt at potty humor...there was actually half of the thing sitting on the bathroom counter when I went in there the next day.]
The entire contents of the night aren't quite clear to me...I know Milo almost got bit by a cart-pulling horse, after asking the lady if he was friendly, and her replying NOPE, and him still trying to pet the thing. I know there's a picture somewhere of the fat girls tits on my head. And Milo fell out of the computer chair in the hotel room, and fell asleep with half his body on the bed. Knees on the floor, top half of his body on the bed, face down. It was a sight to behold.
Next day was hockey day! 24 more in the fridges...after morning/afternoon beers to kill the hangover, we...didn't do a whole lot. Cabride to the arena, where we all did the lightbulb dance with the brown taxi driver...more beers, then GAME TIME! Watched the pregame warmup from the corner, where we yelled at Willie Mitchell a lot. Canucks won in a shootout, which was awesome. Pretty good atmosphere for a game, and the fans were really nice to us (except Pauly and some drunk dude getting into a bathroom argument...that was actually pretty funny). Saw some sweet jerseys, and the biggest cellular phone of all time. No shit, this thing was a shoebox with a car antenna...we laughed at that for a long time.
We're trying to figure out how to get a cab away from the arena, along with 15,000 other people, when Milo yells "GUYS, OVER HERE"...Pauly and I look over...at a blue minivan. Not a cab...just a dude's van. A 5 year old kid with a 'RIDE' sign. Then our friendly "driver", Oscar Williams, runs over to us...
"You boys need a ride dontcha! 3 dollas each, anywhere in the city! Don't worry, I aint gonna rob y'all, look at this big stackamoney I got right here...I don't got to rob you's!"
Paul and I looked at each with the exact same expression on our faces. It read "Oh, helllllnofuckinway. Are you kidding me? Getting into a random's van in the STL? Not a chance in hell. Nope. Nuh uh." Fuckin Milo is already in the back of the thing.
So, Oscar turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Jeff and I discussed the city and the Blues with Oscar in the front while the anklebiter in the back demanded a tip from Milo and Paul. He dropped us off at what he said was a good sunday hangout...but it turned out to be a bowling alley/Chuck E Cheese kinda joint. Not our thing. We tried to come up with a plan outside, when a ridiculously drunk dude came up to us and started giving us pointers on where to go. Outta nowhere he just fucking screamed HEYYYYYYY! at a cab going by. He scared the piss out of all 4 of us, he was so loud...but he got the cabs attention. Unfortunately.
Get in the cab...and this homeboy is straight up high on crack. No fucking joke, Pauly videotaped the whole thing. He was falling asleep at lights against the steering wheel, telling us all about the titty bars across the river (everyone talked about them, actually), told us a joke no one understood, and called us 'niggas' about 38 times in 2 minutes. In between fits of laughter, we had to call an audible and go back to the Landing, since it was close and we wanted to...ya know, survive.
It's sunday night, so things are pretty slow at the Landing, except for one bar. Get in there, go to order a drink, and the bartender says "it's 20 bucks, all you can drink...you want a wristband?" to Paul and I. I looked at the guy like he was speaking taiwanese. There was no way he said what I think he just said. I asked the guy to repeat himself twice more, and once for Pauly's camera for verification, before I believed it. 9PM - 1AM, all you can drink. My dream come true. I nearly nutted in my shorts...I'm sure you wanted to know that.
After actually running over to Jeff and Milo to explain our hitting of the proverbial lottery, it was on. I got bored of corona's pretty quick. Then the bartender explained that anything they had was included. Grey Goose? Check. Tanqueray? Check. Hooooly crap. I had a grey goose fucking bloody mary, cuz I didn't know what the hell to mix it with. I was ON FIRE. I think I got pretty drunk pretty quick, cuz quite possibly the hottest woman alive (at least to me) was dancing away on her own, and I was mesmerized by her. The other 3 thought I was retarded. Go booze. Anyways, around 10:30 I needed to chill out for a bit, so Pauly and I decided to walk down to another bar to see what was going on...I knew my wristband had me covered till 1AM, so it's all good, right? Come on, this is me we're talking about.
Halfway to the other bar...danger erupts. Timmy's tummy no feel so good. I tell Pauly to carry on, that I'm gonna go back to the hotel (only 2 blocks away), take care of it, and meet him down there. Yes you jackals, you can officially call me shitbreak now. Besides, what happened afterwards was much, much worse than any name you can call me.
I hear noises. Noises eerily similar to a door opening...and drunk-speak. I open my eyes...and I'm staring at a pillow. Quick look around...I'm on my bed, in my hotel room. "DUDE, what the fuck happened to you? Where did you go?"
FUCK!!! Shitty McFuckfuck! I passed out! I have no idea how...but there I was, fully clothed, beached on my bed. Jeff told me it was 3:30AM...so I guess I passed out for close to 5 hours. I hate the world...I hit the fucking alcohol jackpot, and I pass out at 10:30? How come this doesn't happen when I'm payin 6.50 a beer at some terrible club at home? I can't begin to explain my disappointment in myself.
Apparently they closed the place, then ended up at a casino where one of them made out with an ashtray. Or a girl named Tashay. Or something. Milo then tried to jump onto his bed, and bounced right off the other side onto the floor, which was highly amusing...but I couldn't quite get over my party foul. I had shamed the team. Sadly, this wasn't the last time.
They all woke up hungover...I woke up fine. Another kick in the nuts...I should have been hungover, dammit! After checking out the Arch and the Mississippi River (the only touristy things we actually did, I think), we headed to the airport to head for stop 2...Columbus.
And in case you're wondering, St Louis wasn't that cold...so Milo didn't freeze. Why is this relevant? Ohhh you'll find out soon enough.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Hockey Trip, Pregame
"Dude, the puck...it's in your cup!"
I looked down...and I'll be goddamned, the puck IS in my cup. There's not a drop of fucking beer left in it - the beer that previously inhabited this cup is now all over Jeff and the woman behind me...and I don't have a drop on me, somehow - but there's a puck there now. And Matt Cooke fucking owes me 8.50.
Boys and girls, moments like the above paragraph are what traveling is all about. Some trips are all about sightseeing, some are about relaxation. This one included very little of either...yes folks, this trip was all about the fine sport of hockey. More specifically, about the Vancouver Canucks. And beer. Lots, and lots...and LOTS of beer.
In late October, your chubby but lovable storyteller was dealing with one of his many bouts of wanderlust. I know some of you are probably wondering what the fuck that is, and if I have to take medication for it. So, for the uninitiated -
wan·der·lust - a strong, innate desire to roam or travel about.
Now that we've cleared that up, we can carry on. As usual, I was playing on the internet, trying to figure out a good trip idea. I was talkin about hockey with Kam, and SHAZAAM! the candle gets lit in my head (I'm too cool for a light bulb). Why not follow the Canucks for a few games? A few clicks and a quick perusal of their schedule showed a 3 game road trip in January...St Louis, Columbus, and Detroit. That was obviously out...who the fuck wants to go to Detroit? I wasn't in the mood for a murder death kill, thank you very much. And Columbus? Do people even watch hockey there? I read the day before that St Louis was the most dangerous city in the USA in 2006 (Detroit was 3rd). Not sure how much they like pot-bellied (yet oddly charming) white people there.
As you can guess by the obvious foreshadowing, this is exactly where I went. And I brought friends!
I planned out a rough outline and told a few people about it over the next couple of days. If people can actually have a WTF look on their face...every single one of these folks had that look. At least they had encouraging things to say! Or not.
"We all know you're retarded Tim...but St Louis and Detroit? Seriously? I thought you enjoyed living. Hey, look at the bright side! You can stay in an abandoned building on 8 Mile for free! That's more beer money for you! Goooo Motown!"
I have caring friends, by the way.
Anyways, I told Rob (will be referred to as Milo from now on, cuz it's his last name and it sounds funny) about the trip, and his reaction was the exact opposite. It was more along the lines of "Dude, I'm so coming with you. And I'm gonna get other people to come too". Yea, okay champ. You're gonna find unarmed "volunteers" to come with us to these god awful cities...and you wanna come along too? Ahh Milo, always the comedian.
Three days pass...and I now have 3 recruits for the trip. I dunno how Milo did it...money was exchanged, gentlemen were fellated, whatever...but now Jeff and Paul wanna come too. And they're just as hyped as Milo and I are about this trip. I'm speechless. After talkin to them and confirming their sanity, it was GO TIME! Cheap flights were booked, semi-nice hotels were reserved, and pretty good hockey tickets were acquired. 2 and a half exhausting months later, Timmy really needed an entertaining vacation...and he sure as shit got one!
SEATTLE
Our flight was at 7:20AM to St Louis, so we decided to stay a night in an airport hotel in Seatac. We arrived at 9PM, and checked into our suitably ghetto hotel, after the purchase of an 18 pack of beer. By 9:20, the case was empty. This is not bravado...I speak the truth people. We just had to go find a bar now...but we made sure we wouldn't stay too late...come on now, we had an early flight. Drinking till 2AM would be horribly irresponsible. Uh, okay.
We stumbled up to the Bull Pen. Sure, this'll do. Go inside...good god, it's a karaoke bar. Joyous. We line up to get beer...Paul grabs a pint, and goes to get a table. Jeff and I decide to split a jug, we go to find...Paul already sitting with a cougar, chattin her up. It took like 23 seconds for him to pick up....I was mightily impressed. Jeff and I didn't wanna cockblock, so we grabbed another table with Milo, and listened to some fucking TERRIBLE karaoke. This bar had quite the cast of characters...think the cast of Cheers mingling in the Star Wars bar. Paul's new friend was the hottest chick in the bar, no contest, and probably the best singer there too.
Milo, being the friendly guy that he is, met some people while out for a smoke and brought them by the table. The chick was your generic goth land beast...cuz ya know, there's a generic version of them. Probably the ugliest girl in the bar, and believe me, that was quite a feat. Her boyfriend on the other hand, looked like his daddy was a computer and his mommy was a book about computers. Complete nerdbomber. They were just about the oddest couple I've ever seen. And of course, they had to tell us all about their "super intense" 2 month relationship. And people wonder why I make fun of americans.
After a few hours of pretty good beer and bleeding ears, it was 2AM. What a surprise. Paul's woman disappeared, so we did too. I staggered across the street for more beer, and met the guys back at the hotel. Where Milo realized he had lost his jacket.
Please let me repeat this for emphasis. We are about to leave for 3 cities in the midwest...in the middle of winter. It's fucking cold there. And Milo lost his jacket. Before we have even left for the first destination.
Travel bloopers, take one!
Stay tuned for part 2...all about the STL yo!
I looked down...and I'll be goddamned, the puck IS in my cup. There's not a drop of fucking beer left in it - the beer that previously inhabited this cup is now all over Jeff and the woman behind me...and I don't have a drop on me, somehow - but there's a puck there now. And Matt Cooke fucking owes me 8.50.
Boys and girls, moments like the above paragraph are what traveling is all about. Some trips are all about sightseeing, some are about relaxation. This one included very little of either...yes folks, this trip was all about the fine sport of hockey. More specifically, about the Vancouver Canucks. And beer. Lots, and lots...and LOTS of beer.
In late October, your chubby but lovable storyteller was dealing with one of his many bouts of wanderlust. I know some of you are probably wondering what the fuck that is, and if I have to take medication for it. So, for the uninitiated -
wan·der·lust - a strong, innate desire to roam or travel about.
Now that we've cleared that up, we can carry on. As usual, I was playing on the internet, trying to figure out a good trip idea. I was talkin about hockey with Kam, and SHAZAAM! the candle gets lit in my head (I'm too cool for a light bulb). Why not follow the Canucks for a few games? A few clicks and a quick perusal of their schedule showed a 3 game road trip in January...St Louis, Columbus, and Detroit. That was obviously out...who the fuck wants to go to Detroit? I wasn't in the mood for a murder death kill, thank you very much. And Columbus? Do people even watch hockey there? I read the day before that St Louis was the most dangerous city in the USA in 2006 (Detroit was 3rd). Not sure how much they like pot-bellied (yet oddly charming) white people there.
As you can guess by the obvious foreshadowing, this is exactly where I went. And I brought friends!
I planned out a rough outline and told a few people about it over the next couple of days. If people can actually have a WTF look on their face...every single one of these folks had that look. At least they had encouraging things to say! Or not.
"We all know you're retarded Tim...but St Louis and Detroit? Seriously? I thought you enjoyed living. Hey, look at the bright side! You can stay in an abandoned building on 8 Mile for free! That's more beer money for you! Goooo Motown!"
I have caring friends, by the way.
Anyways, I told Rob (will be referred to as Milo from now on, cuz it's his last name and it sounds funny) about the trip, and his reaction was the exact opposite. It was more along the lines of "Dude, I'm so coming with you. And I'm gonna get other people to come too". Yea, okay champ. You're gonna find unarmed "volunteers" to come with us to these god awful cities...and you wanna come along too? Ahh Milo, always the comedian.
Three days pass...and I now have 3 recruits for the trip. I dunno how Milo did it...money was exchanged, gentlemen were fellated, whatever...but now Jeff and Paul wanna come too. And they're just as hyped as Milo and I are about this trip. I'm speechless. After talkin to them and confirming their sanity, it was GO TIME! Cheap flights were booked, semi-nice hotels were reserved, and pretty good hockey tickets were acquired. 2 and a half exhausting months later, Timmy really needed an entertaining vacation...and he sure as shit got one!
SEATTLE
Our flight was at 7:20AM to St Louis, so we decided to stay a night in an airport hotel in Seatac. We arrived at 9PM, and checked into our suitably ghetto hotel, after the purchase of an 18 pack of beer. By 9:20, the case was empty. This is not bravado...I speak the truth people. We just had to go find a bar now...but we made sure we wouldn't stay too late...come on now, we had an early flight. Drinking till 2AM would be horribly irresponsible. Uh, okay.
We stumbled up to the Bull Pen. Sure, this'll do. Go inside...good god, it's a karaoke bar. Joyous. We line up to get beer...Paul grabs a pint, and goes to get a table. Jeff and I decide to split a jug, we go to find...Paul already sitting with a cougar, chattin her up. It took like 23 seconds for him to pick up....I was mightily impressed. Jeff and I didn't wanna cockblock, so we grabbed another table with Milo, and listened to some fucking TERRIBLE karaoke. This bar had quite the cast of characters...think the cast of Cheers mingling in the Star Wars bar. Paul's new friend was the hottest chick in the bar, no contest, and probably the best singer there too.
Milo, being the friendly guy that he is, met some people while out for a smoke and brought them by the table. The chick was your generic goth land beast...cuz ya know, there's a generic version of them. Probably the ugliest girl in the bar, and believe me, that was quite a feat. Her boyfriend on the other hand, looked like his daddy was a computer and his mommy was a book about computers. Complete nerdbomber. They were just about the oddest couple I've ever seen. And of course, they had to tell us all about their "super intense" 2 month relationship. And people wonder why I make fun of americans.
After a few hours of pretty good beer and bleeding ears, it was 2AM. What a surprise. Paul's woman disappeared, so we did too. I staggered across the street for more beer, and met the guys back at the hotel. Where Milo realized he had lost his jacket.
Please let me repeat this for emphasis. We are about to leave for 3 cities in the midwest...in the middle of winter. It's fucking cold there. And Milo lost his jacket. Before we have even left for the first destination.
Travel bloopers, take one!
Stay tuned for part 2...all about the STL yo!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Random!
10 random facts you may or may not know about me. I've been drinking and I'm bored...deal with it.
1. My eyes aren't one solid colour. I have a brown ring on the inside of the...umm...coloured part, and the outside half changes colours. Usually grey, sometimes green or blue. I'm already cooler than you thought I was, right?
2. I can't burp. Or puke. Well, I have actually done both, but they're very rare occurances in my life. Like eclipses or some shit. You have your fancy moon every 8 years, I upchuck in a bathtub. Not quite as romantic.
3. I can do 2 impressions. One is Grover, from Sesame Street. I got thrown off the skytrain once for doing the NEAR...FAR! skit, and running from one side of the train to the other for emphasis. Not my finest moment. The 2nd is Fat Albert...before you start in on the obvious heffer jokes, you gotta hear my HEY HEY HEY! The bitches flock to it.
4. I probably know more about jiu jitsu than you do, even though I've never worn a gi, rolled with anyone, or actually been in a gym since high school.
5. I've lost 11 housekeys since I moved in here. I've actually lost 3 of them in the bush beside the stairs/front door, cuz I dropped them trying to drunkenly get in the house at 5AM. Those fuckers bounce like you wouldn't believe.
6. I watch Dream videos a lot on YouTube. Remember them? Circa 2001 or so. I have no idea why. Before you watch one and point out they were 14 or some shit...I'll have you know they're perfectly legal now. So there.
7. I get to drink beer at work, and you don't.
8. I can do complicated 8 digit math in my head in seconds, but I can't pump gas, change a tire, or operate a motor vehicle. Well, I rode a jetski once, but I crashed it into a dock.
9. I can't afford a car, I use public transportation...I don't mind, I read till I reach my destination...sometimes a newspaper, sometimes a book...the amount of money I save, this shit is off the hook! Oh, and I get nervous in social situations, muthafucka! If ya got a pet cat, put ya hands up...if ya got a bad back, put ya hands up...
10. I owned a 98 Degrees CD a long time ago, till Danny threw it into the fireplace and stated "There, now it's 1500 degrees".
1. My eyes aren't one solid colour. I have a brown ring on the inside of the...umm...coloured part, and the outside half changes colours. Usually grey, sometimes green or blue. I'm already cooler than you thought I was, right?
2. I can't burp. Or puke. Well, I have actually done both, but they're very rare occurances in my life. Like eclipses or some shit. You have your fancy moon every 8 years, I upchuck in a bathtub. Not quite as romantic.
3. I can do 2 impressions. One is Grover, from Sesame Street. I got thrown off the skytrain once for doing the NEAR...FAR! skit, and running from one side of the train to the other for emphasis. Not my finest moment. The 2nd is Fat Albert...before you start in on the obvious heffer jokes, you gotta hear my HEY HEY HEY! The bitches flock to it.
4. I probably know more about jiu jitsu than you do, even though I've never worn a gi, rolled with anyone, or actually been in a gym since high school.
5. I've lost 11 housekeys since I moved in here. I've actually lost 3 of them in the bush beside the stairs/front door, cuz I dropped them trying to drunkenly get in the house at 5AM. Those fuckers bounce like you wouldn't believe.
6. I watch Dream videos a lot on YouTube. Remember them? Circa 2001 or so. I have no idea why. Before you watch one and point out they were 14 or some shit...I'll have you know they're perfectly legal now. So there.
7. I get to drink beer at work, and you don't.
8. I can do complicated 8 digit math in my head in seconds, but I can't pump gas, change a tire, or operate a motor vehicle. Well, I rode a jetski once, but I crashed it into a dock.
9. I can't afford a car, I use public transportation...I don't mind, I read till I reach my destination...sometimes a newspaper, sometimes a book...the amount of money I save, this shit is off the hook! Oh, and I get nervous in social situations, muthafucka! If ya got a pet cat, put ya hands up...if ya got a bad back, put ya hands up...
10. I owned a 98 Degrees CD a long time ago, till Danny threw it into the fireplace and stated "There, now it's 1500 degrees".
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Fuck Translink. And the RCMP.
I almost got arrested this morning.
There's a foot of snow here, and it's still comin down. This means no car is exiting my driveway to drive me anywhere, so I get to take public transit. Joyous. After squishing into a skytrain car like a drunk sardine, I get to the bus loop, about 40 seconds before the bus is gonna leave.
I rush over to the bus, which was still there...it pulled away right as I got to where it boards. After going about 4 feet, it stopped, so I walked up to the door. The jackass driver looked at me, AND DROVE AWAY. So I kicked the bus as hard as I could. I know, I know...nice and mature. But fuck that, asshat shoulda let me on the fucking bus!
There was a cop sitting in his car at the end of the loop, who came up to me and told me I could be arrested for trying to destroy public property. I said something along the lines of "Go do something productive and catch real criminals"...he again said I could be arrested, so I said "Go ahead then, arrest me. And explain to your bosses why you let 27 drugs deals go down at the loop here while you're hauling me in for kicking a fucking bus." And stuck my wrists out.
Magically, he didn't find me humorous. He told me to be more respectful to a police officer, and I responded with "Go bug Pablo the smack dealer over there, or give me a ride to work. Your choice" and turned my back to him. He kept babbling, I kept ignoring, and eventually he walked away.
The next bus didn't show up, and the one after that was 20 minutes late, so I was there freezing my balls off in the snow for an hour and 15 minutes. Cocksuckers.
Just for the record, I'm 29 years old. And single. I wonder why sometimes, until things like this happen.
There's a foot of snow here, and it's still comin down. This means no car is exiting my driveway to drive me anywhere, so I get to take public transit. Joyous. After squishing into a skytrain car like a drunk sardine, I get to the bus loop, about 40 seconds before the bus is gonna leave.
I rush over to the bus, which was still there...it pulled away right as I got to where it boards. After going about 4 feet, it stopped, so I walked up to the door. The jackass driver looked at me, AND DROVE AWAY. So I kicked the bus as hard as I could. I know, I know...nice and mature. But fuck that, asshat shoulda let me on the fucking bus!
There was a cop sitting in his car at the end of the loop, who came up to me and told me I could be arrested for trying to destroy public property. I said something along the lines of "Go do something productive and catch real criminals"...he again said I could be arrested, so I said "Go ahead then, arrest me. And explain to your bosses why you let 27 drugs deals go down at the loop here while you're hauling me in for kicking a fucking bus." And stuck my wrists out.
Magically, he didn't find me humorous. He told me to be more respectful to a police officer, and I responded with "Go bug Pablo the smack dealer over there, or give me a ride to work. Your choice" and turned my back to him. He kept babbling, I kept ignoring, and eventually he walked away.
The next bus didn't show up, and the one after that was 20 minutes late, so I was there freezing my balls off in the snow for an hour and 15 minutes. Cocksuckers.
Just for the record, I'm 29 years old. And single. I wonder why sometimes, until things like this happen.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Road trip with 2 bitches, the finale
Since my last blog was a bit of a downer (holy understatement), I thought I'd lighten it up and finally finish the camping trip story. Only 3 months post-trip. I should just get "lazy" tattoo'd on my forehead.
It's been a while, so to get yourself up to speed, refer to the first 2 parts of this tale, located somewhere below. After you stop laughing at our immature antics and my storytelling artistry....here we go again.
Day 3 began much the same way day 2 did. I cracked a beer about 34 seconds after waking up, while the bitches looked at me in disgust. After lounging around for a bit and cleaning up the doritos we all threw at each other the night before, we decided to go for a drive. Every state with an inch of coastline has a town called Long Beach. So do half the islands in North America. This Long Beach claimed to have the "Longest beach in the world"...just like all the others all claim as well. We figured it was worth a looksee, so we headed in that direction.
The beach was huuuuge. Super wide, and it stretched as far as we could see. People were driving their jeeps up and down like it was a highway or something. After chasing seagulls and throwing seaweed at each other for a while, Jess decided the windy conditions were perfect for kite-flying. I differed on this opinion, cuz I'm not 9 years old anymore. Once bitch gets something in his head though, it's go time! We walked through a fair chunk of the town, eventually coming across a...I guess it's a kite store? A hobby shop? I dunno. I'm not saying we were too old to be in there...but I kept expecting Chris Hansen to jump out from behind a display...To Catch a Predator!
While Jess rummaged through kites like a spastic preteen, Jim and I played with the shop-owners friendly dog and made mature comments relating to Jess not hitting puberty yet. He finally settled on a 40+ dollar kite, and we went off in search of food, which turned out to be at a damn good seafood place. Post meal, we ended up in some sort of antique shop/freak show. This place was full of awesome.
There was Jake, the half alligator, half man. Seriously, look up this piece of work people...he's a man among gators. Something topped Jake though...an execution machine. You put in a quarter, and get to witness a little doll guy get offed. A guy about our age was standing beside us, in awe of this thing like we were, when his girlfriend yelled out for him to come over there. His response cracked us all up...
"I'll be there in a minute honey, I'm just watching an execution."
After that hilarity, we decided to hit up the arcade. They had air hockey! Oh this shit was ON. Jess and I played with so much aggression, our arms were totally done by the end of 3 games...and after the arcade lady told us to keep it down a few times cuz we were shit-talking. I won every game. Even if I didn't, it was 3 months ago and my memory is a little foggy, and it's MY BLOG, BITCHES!
After some native ice-cream (don't ask), it was time to head back into Disappointment, stopping along the way for a shitload of alcoholic energy drinks (that were 99 cents each!) at the redneck store. On the way, Jim decided he was gonna be Mario Andretti on the windy road up to the park. After 10 painstaking minutes of him jawing about what a good driver he was, and weaving back and forth like a drunk trucker, he came up to the last big turn before the park.
And missed it.
Well, he didn't really miss it...but that was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? Anyways, he ALMOST missed it....after overcompensating to one side, we were about a foot from going right off the road, into a huge ditch and some trees. I guess it would be fitting if we died in a place like Cape Disappointment, but alas, Jim got us there alive...and with soiled underpants.
Back to the yurt we go, we go...Jim decides to go for a shower, while Jess and I decide to go to the beach and see if he can fly his expensive kiddy toy. After we walk all the way there, Jess realizes he locked the yurt, and Jim can't get in. After laughing about this for a few minutes, we decided to go back...Jim was not a happy camper. GET IT?
Driving like a down's kid and being angry made Jim a tired little guy, so he went for his daily nap. Jess and I went back to the beach, energy booze in tow. It took about 2 minutes for me to realize that dollar energy booze cans and a tard with a kite are MAGIC when brought together. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt for hours. First, he couldn't get the thing to take off...then when he finally did (with my help), he tripped and fell in the sand. Attempt 1 - failed. After somehow getting it back into the air again...while running backwards, he tripped over a huge rock...let go of the kite, did a backwards flip/roll over said rock into the sand, and watched in vain while his new toy ended up in the cold ocean. 2 seconds later, he got up and chased after it, shoes and all, right into the water...and got drenched from the knees down or so. I'm laughing right now while thinking about it, 3 months later. It was awesome. Unfortunately, karma comes in many packages, and I would be on the receiving end of laughter a short time later.
After taking 10 or so minutes to laugh hysterically at the situation and finish our energy booze, we headed back to wake up Jim and go back to the Killer Jetty!
Upon arrival at said jetty, Jess decided he was gonna attempt another kite-flying adventure on the beach there, due to the higher winds. I didn't think he could top the incident earlier, so I took off down the jetty. The waves were MUCH bigger than the day before, crashing right over the top onto the other side. I hung out for a while, drinking my energy booze and chillin, till bitch squared finished up with the kite and came out to where I was. I knew where Jess was standing was wave territory, but I didn't say anythin...sure enough, 2 minutes later, KABOOM. Jess is pretty wet. Jim and I are pretty amused. This cape was not disappointing me when it came to harassing Jess. But wait...do you hear that sound?
That's karma knocking at the door! Or jetty. Or whatever.
We walked down a little bit more, but stayed safely away from wave county. Or so I thought. We started talking to some other people that were out there, and a guy was telling a pretty interesting story about the jetty. Next thing I know, KABOOM. I'm fucking soaked. Not "I jumped into the shower for a couple of seconds" soaked. I was "somebody just dropped me into a fucking dunk tank" soaked. It wasn't pleasant. Well, it wasn't for me anyways...the bitches practically fell down laughing at me. Stupid jetty. Stupid karma.
We're all gettin hungry by this point, so we went back to the yurt, got changed into DRY clothes, and went to the pub in Ilwaco. Come on...it's not a real camping trip without a pub trip! Not a fucking soul was in the place other than us and 2 employees. My food and beer were fine. The bitches, not so much. Jim called it "the worst meal he's ever had". That's gotta suck. Oh well, mine was good!
On the drive back (a much safer drive this time, due to darkness), we came across a whole lotta deer. Jess got outta the car, and crept closer to take a good pic. The deer were nice and tame...till bitch went fucking berserk, screamed, and charged at them for some reason. Shockingly, Bambi and crew ran for their lives. I still dunno why he did it, but it was super funny.
Anyways, back to the yurt., and then back to the beach. In the dark and the rain. There were a billion baby shrimp running around, and even more little wormy bug thingers jumping around too. I'm pretty sure that's the scientfic name for them. We sat down for probably 30 seconds, and were covered in them. Not so much fun. The bitches then decided it would be funny to run away and shut off the flashlights. That wasn't so much fun either...for me, anyways. It was pitch fucking black. I fell. They laughed. What a surprise.
Back to the yurt. And guess who's back? Our raccoon friends. And they brought the family...there were at least 5, probably 6 of them. We fed them every scrap of food we had, and watched them fight and yelp and do lotsa other funny stuff. They were eating right out of our hands, just chillin with us. Since they kept taking the food off the deck, we decided to see if they'd take something else with them:
Jim's beer! He grabbed it, and tried to scurry off with it...but obviously he couldn't open it. (On a side note, Jim had no idea it was actually one of his beer that klepto-coon stole until he saw this pic after the trip.) Since he couldn't open the beer, Jess decided to give him another treat...
Baileys!
Note to future campers - raccoons like baileys. A lot. Jess poured a bunch onto the deck, and the little guy licked it all up. After a little bit, he decided to freak the fuck out on the other raccoons. Then he staggered around. Then he actually came up beside us, and fucking went to sleep, lying flat out, right beside the fire! It was almost as funny as Jess falling over the rock. Almost. He stayed there for 20 minutes or so, having a snooze, oblivious to us...then got up and took off with the rest of his friends. Good times, good times.
Nothing could top the hijinks of the day, so we just drank a few more beers and tried to watch Knocked Up again on the laptop. I think I passed out before the opening credits were over, and my snoring ensured the bitches couldn't enjoy the movie...so they gave up too.
Next day, we got up and came home. I don't remember anything eventful happening that day, other than us deciding that we had a damn good time, and will do it again ASAP. Between nature kicking the shit out of us, boozed-up/candy-stealing coons, and the rest of the hilarity involved in anywhere us 3 go....Cape Disappointment gets a thumbs up.
It's been a while, so to get yourself up to speed, refer to the first 2 parts of this tale, located somewhere below. After you stop laughing at our immature antics and my storytelling artistry....here we go again.
Day 3 began much the same way day 2 did. I cracked a beer about 34 seconds after waking up, while the bitches looked at me in disgust. After lounging around for a bit and cleaning up the doritos we all threw at each other the night before, we decided to go for a drive. Every state with an inch of coastline has a town called Long Beach. So do half the islands in North America. This Long Beach claimed to have the "Longest beach in the world"...just like all the others all claim as well. We figured it was worth a looksee, so we headed in that direction.
The beach was huuuuge. Super wide, and it stretched as far as we could see. People were driving their jeeps up and down like it was a highway or something. After chasing seagulls and throwing seaweed at each other for a while, Jess decided the windy conditions were perfect for kite-flying. I differed on this opinion, cuz I'm not 9 years old anymore. Once bitch gets something in his head though, it's go time! We walked through a fair chunk of the town, eventually coming across a...I guess it's a kite store? A hobby shop? I dunno. I'm not saying we were too old to be in there...but I kept expecting Chris Hansen to jump out from behind a display...To Catch a Predator!
While Jess rummaged through kites like a spastic preteen, Jim and I played with the shop-owners friendly dog and made mature comments relating to Jess not hitting puberty yet. He finally settled on a 40+ dollar kite, and we went off in search of food, which turned out to be at a damn good seafood place. Post meal, we ended up in some sort of antique shop/freak show. This place was full of awesome.
There was Jake, the half alligator, half man. Seriously, look up this piece of work people...he's a man among gators. Something topped Jake though...an execution machine. You put in a quarter, and get to witness a little doll guy get offed. A guy about our age was standing beside us, in awe of this thing like we were, when his girlfriend yelled out for him to come over there. His response cracked us all up...
"I'll be there in a minute honey, I'm just watching an execution."
After that hilarity, we decided to hit up the arcade. They had air hockey! Oh this shit was ON. Jess and I played with so much aggression, our arms were totally done by the end of 3 games...and after the arcade lady told us to keep it down a few times cuz we were shit-talking. I won every game. Even if I didn't, it was 3 months ago and my memory is a little foggy, and it's MY BLOG, BITCHES!
After some native ice-cream (don't ask), it was time to head back into Disappointment, stopping along the way for a shitload of alcoholic energy drinks (that were 99 cents each!) at the redneck store. On the way, Jim decided he was gonna be Mario Andretti on the windy road up to the park. After 10 painstaking minutes of him jawing about what a good driver he was, and weaving back and forth like a drunk trucker, he came up to the last big turn before the park.
And missed it.
Well, he didn't really miss it...but that was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? Anyways, he ALMOST missed it....after overcompensating to one side, we were about a foot from going right off the road, into a huge ditch and some trees. I guess it would be fitting if we died in a place like Cape Disappointment, but alas, Jim got us there alive...and with soiled underpants.
Back to the yurt we go, we go...Jim decides to go for a shower, while Jess and I decide to go to the beach and see if he can fly his expensive kiddy toy. After we walk all the way there, Jess realizes he locked the yurt, and Jim can't get in. After laughing about this for a few minutes, we decided to go back...Jim was not a happy camper. GET IT?
Driving like a down's kid and being angry made Jim a tired little guy, so he went for his daily nap. Jess and I went back to the beach, energy booze in tow. It took about 2 minutes for me to realize that dollar energy booze cans and a tard with a kite are MAGIC when brought together. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt for hours. First, he couldn't get the thing to take off...then when he finally did (with my help), he tripped and fell in the sand. Attempt 1 - failed. After somehow getting it back into the air again...while running backwards, he tripped over a huge rock...let go of the kite, did a backwards flip/roll over said rock into the sand, and watched in vain while his new toy ended up in the cold ocean. 2 seconds later, he got up and chased after it, shoes and all, right into the water...and got drenched from the knees down or so. I'm laughing right now while thinking about it, 3 months later. It was awesome. Unfortunately, karma comes in many packages, and I would be on the receiving end of laughter a short time later.
After taking 10 or so minutes to laugh hysterically at the situation and finish our energy booze, we headed back to wake up Jim and go back to the Killer Jetty!
Upon arrival at said jetty, Jess decided he was gonna attempt another kite-flying adventure on the beach there, due to the higher winds. I didn't think he could top the incident earlier, so I took off down the jetty. The waves were MUCH bigger than the day before, crashing right over the top onto the other side. I hung out for a while, drinking my energy booze and chillin, till bitch squared finished up with the kite and came out to where I was. I knew where Jess was standing was wave territory, but I didn't say anythin...sure enough, 2 minutes later, KABOOM. Jess is pretty wet. Jim and I are pretty amused. This cape was not disappointing me when it came to harassing Jess. But wait...do you hear that sound?
That's karma knocking at the door! Or jetty. Or whatever.
We walked down a little bit more, but stayed safely away from wave county. Or so I thought. We started talking to some other people that were out there, and a guy was telling a pretty interesting story about the jetty. Next thing I know, KABOOM. I'm fucking soaked. Not "I jumped into the shower for a couple of seconds" soaked. I was "somebody just dropped me into a fucking dunk tank" soaked. It wasn't pleasant. Well, it wasn't for me anyways...the bitches practically fell down laughing at me. Stupid jetty. Stupid karma.
We're all gettin hungry by this point, so we went back to the yurt, got changed into DRY clothes, and went to the pub in Ilwaco. Come on...it's not a real camping trip without a pub trip! Not a fucking soul was in the place other than us and 2 employees. My food and beer were fine. The bitches, not so much. Jim called it "the worst meal he's ever had". That's gotta suck. Oh well, mine was good!
On the drive back (a much safer drive this time, due to darkness), we came across a whole lotta deer. Jess got outta the car, and crept closer to take a good pic. The deer were nice and tame...till bitch went fucking berserk, screamed, and charged at them for some reason. Shockingly, Bambi and crew ran for their lives. I still dunno why he did it, but it was super funny.
Anyways, back to the yurt., and then back to the beach. In the dark and the rain. There were a billion baby shrimp running around, and even more little wormy bug thingers jumping around too. I'm pretty sure that's the scientfic name for them. We sat down for probably 30 seconds, and were covered in them. Not so much fun. The bitches then decided it would be funny to run away and shut off the flashlights. That wasn't so much fun either...for me, anyways. It was pitch fucking black. I fell. They laughed. What a surprise.
Back to the yurt. And guess who's back? Our raccoon friends. And they brought the family...there were at least 5, probably 6 of them. We fed them every scrap of food we had, and watched them fight and yelp and do lotsa other funny stuff. They were eating right out of our hands, just chillin with us. Since they kept taking the food off the deck, we decided to see if they'd take something else with them:
Jim's beer! He grabbed it, and tried to scurry off with it...but obviously he couldn't open it. (On a side note, Jim had no idea it was actually one of his beer that klepto-coon stole until he saw this pic after the trip.) Since he couldn't open the beer, Jess decided to give him another treat...
Baileys!
Note to future campers - raccoons like baileys. A lot. Jess poured a bunch onto the deck, and the little guy licked it all up. After a little bit, he decided to freak the fuck out on the other raccoons. Then he staggered around. Then he actually came up beside us, and fucking went to sleep, lying flat out, right beside the fire! It was almost as funny as Jess falling over the rock. Almost. He stayed there for 20 minutes or so, having a snooze, oblivious to us...then got up and took off with the rest of his friends. Good times, good times.
Nothing could top the hijinks of the day, so we just drank a few more beers and tried to watch Knocked Up again on the laptop. I think I passed out before the opening credits were over, and my snoring ensured the bitches couldn't enjoy the movie...so they gave up too.
Next day, we got up and came home. I don't remember anything eventful happening that day, other than us deciding that we had a damn good time, and will do it again ASAP. Between nature kicking the shit out of us, boozed-up/candy-stealing coons, and the rest of the hilarity involved in anywhere us 3 go....Cape Disappointment gets a thumbs up.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Read and remember. Please.
My Weekend.
WARNING: I change tenses a lot here, from past to present to future. Bear with it, it's part of my charm.
I arrived the night before the event (friday night) with my dad and my stepbrothers/stepsister. We did what we do best...got drunk with Curtis. A few hours later, my sister Renee showed up with her husband, and a litter of children. Drinks were had, Wii was played, everything was pretty normal. Ya know, as normal as funeral eve's get. A lot of people crashed there that night, and I was content with a couch and a drinking partner. Alas, due to Budweiser, Gibson's Whiskey, and grief, Curtis and I Wii-bowled till 5:30AM and discussed many things. I began to understand more than I ever imagined about the man I call my brother, and always will. No one is ever gonna leave your side bro. No one.
2 hours later, I woke up sweating, literally stuck to a leather couch, with a dog nose in my face. Joyous. The only thing that made me feel better about being this hungover was seeing Curtis stagger into the kitchen to answer the already-ringing phone a few minutes later. If I had to feel this shitty, at least I had company...I know he was just as fucking hungover as I was. I managed to unstick myself for the couch, which fucking hurt, and realized my pockets full of change had made their way into the bowels of my bed for the night. Oh well...donating 9.47 to Curtis and his couch was the least I could do. Dogs, cats and kids woke up, the decibel level went up, and I reluctantly re-entered the aggravation I've dodged my entire life.
I felt like garbage, but wasn't sure what to do about it...till Curtis sat down next to my with his trusty Gibson's bottle and took a swig. It might have been early, but I couldn't let him drink alone...good brothers don't do this kind of thing. Hello, Coors Light. Nice to see ya. I got a dirty look from nearly everyone for cracking a beer at 9AM, but they can go and make sweet love to themselves. If they wanna deal with their issues with tears and embraces, go ahead...that's not my fucking thing. For better or worse.
Suddenly, I'm in a hall normally reserved for drinking. A legion. If you've ever spent any time in this environment, you start to understand that a memorial service is pretty similar to your average tuesday afternoon up in a place like this. Men in uniform (or long past such trivial matters) sit around old tables with adult beverages, speaking of fallen comrades and "the good ole days". But today, my sister is that comrade, and those days are not so far gone. They were last week, and a saturday the month before that, and the celebration of another special life a couple of summers ago. Today, this place has balance...half of the people wear the uniforms of our country's finest, of which my sister was a proud member. A select few wore the pink pajamas my sister spent much of her spare time in...and the rest of us wore whatever the hell we felt like, as per Jenner's wishes.
The days leading up to this event have been filled with heartache and acrimony for many people involved, and things are not about to resolve themselves peacefully today. Her kids, my niece and nephew, are standing in front of me...confused and scared, unsure about what their future holds. 12 and 11. So impressionable. Their mom may be somewhere else, but they are not alone. Many in the room have a vested interest in their lives, and these people are just as confused and worried about how this will all play out. As important as all this stuff is, the people in this unique place of worship and death have silently agreed to set aside the next few minutes to honour the memory of someone they all hold in high regard.
People talk. The words are a blur. I'm staring at flags, at my watch, at everything but reality.
The unspoken words of Curtis resonate through the place like thunder, as much as his words did. We understand, man, as much as we can. You made me proud.
Renee is strong, articulate, and witty...the yin to my yang. I can write it here, long after the fact...but she can stand up like an adult and say it. Her words were broad and powerful. She managed to make everyone there feel like she was speaking directly to them, like no one else was in the room. She said many nice things about me up there, including compliments on my writing. And she made 100+ people stare at me. Thanks Renee! In all seriousness, sis, my writing doesn't hold a candle to your presence and personality. You made a lot of people feel really good about themselves. Jenner would be proud of you.
The power of a terrible disease was never more evident than the words expressed by the third and last official speaker at the ceremony, Jen's friend Debbie. She had known Jen a relatively short time, but Debbie had overcome cancer, and she was a true friend and sounding board for my sister. Her words were heartfelt and honest, and despite never laying eyes upon the lady until she grabbed that mic, I could see what my sister saw in her. Inspiration.
The floor is opened to anyone who wants to speak. My dad is the first volunteer. His monotone words about my mother and sister are too much for me, and I am overcome by emotion, hoping that all those people staring at me 2 minutes ago are somehow in the bathroom, or staring at the ceiling or something. I hadn't cried since the same man spoke of my mother when she passed 2 1/2 years ago, when he managed to crack up both myself and Mikey, my brother in arms. Today, I had no Mikey at my side...but I'm not ashamed to say that my lip was quivering, salty tears invaded my cheeks, and I was heartbroken. And I'm not afraid to say that as I type these words, 38 hours later...I'm wiping the same tears off the same cheeks. I've never met anyone, nor will I ever again, that will ever have that power over me. That's a testament to the greatest man I've ever known. Fred Ingram. I hope he reads this someday, so he gets it. Too bad he's allergic to the internet. : )
After that, others spoke. Members of the military spoke highly of service. Friends spoke highly of her compassion and caring nature. Everyone spoke of her stubbornness...highly or not, it was worth mentioning. : ) Sheila spoke of Jenner's love of camping, and cracked up everyone in the room after mentioning her love of tie-dye...and jello shooters. Amber, with nothing prepared beforehand, was able to define the essence of what Jenner was all about with a few short words. If anyone knew how much love Jen had in her core, it was Amber. Amber, you were Jenner's best friend...her connection to her youth, her litmus test as a mother, her sounding board, and most of all, the bestest big sister you could be to Chimene and Brandon. Thanks for tellin everyone that I'm your homey...obviously, the feeling is mutual. You're the only one I watched while they made their speech. It was all kinds of awesome. You did good....werd.
I guess you're wondering by now whether I got up and said anything. No, I did not. While I had enough to say to fill hours, days, and stadiums...I couldn't do it. As stated above, I'm much better at the written word. Jenner knew that, and was okay with it. She told me so. If I had, I dunno, 350-27,000 words though, here's what I would have said:
Jenner, you trusted me, and respected my opinion. No adult ever did before you. You came to me when times were hard, and actually asked my opinion. When I was helpful, you told me. And when I wasn't, you told me as well. You trusted me with those midget kids of yours when they were just leetle, and tried to give me part of the credit for them turning out as well as they have, deserved or not. It took a long time for me to understand the influence I wielded in your life. The confidence you showed in me and my judgement helped build the foundation for who I am today. No one has ever had the faith in me that you had. No one.
Everyone figured we were exactly alike. Every day I get accused of being just like my sister Jennifer, and I couldn't think of a bigger compliment. When mom died, you were there, right beside me. I knew I'd wake up in the morning, and you'd be there to laugh at my terrible jokes...and vice versa. Mostly yours, but hey, who's counting. Ya know what? When all this went down, that made me wanna get outta bed in the morning, no matter how terrible I felt. So I could make other people laugh, and ease their pain. These people...Curtis, of course....Chimene, Brandon...Dad, and Amber, and Val, and Justin n Jeff, Renee, Jonanthan, and their midgets, and Gerry...that's your legacy, along with many others. They make me laugh, just like you would. You would have laughed at Amber, Val, And Justin in Jenner-style pink pajamas. At Sheila talking bout you and your Jello Shots. At your military superiors commenting on your legendary stubbornness. At Renee talking about the f'n terrible clothes you used to wear back in the day.
I'm sorry I didn't get up and tell them all this. You know me. I'd rather be read than heard. Renee is the talker, I'm the writer. I hope you're not mad. Ya know, even if ya are...screw you! Next time our paths cross, I'm gonna tell you about all the awesome jokes I came up with! They're terrible and wrong, and everyone would condemn me to some bad places for coming up with them, but you woulda laughed your ass off. You're the only one that ever appreciated that kinda shit, and vice versa. Even when mom died, we mighta offended a lot of people, but we sure fuckin entertained each other! Yours were worse than mine...YEAH!...but I'll be goddamned if you didn't have me in tears from laughter every day. When your bench at Hatley is done and there....I'm gonna show up and tell you the worst jokes possible...jokes only you and I would appreciate. Screw the rest of em if they don't understand....I can just imagine the hilarity you'd get outta seeing me talking to a bench.
Jenner, always remember this...I've said it before to you...but....
No matter what they told you, you're not alone
I'll be right beside you
Forevermore.
I love you Jenner. Sweet dreams.
WARNING: I change tenses a lot here, from past to present to future. Bear with it, it's part of my charm.
I arrived the night before the event (friday night) with my dad and my stepbrothers/stepsister. We did what we do best...got drunk with Curtis. A few hours later, my sister Renee showed up with her husband, and a litter of children. Drinks were had, Wii was played, everything was pretty normal. Ya know, as normal as funeral eve's get. A lot of people crashed there that night, and I was content with a couch and a drinking partner. Alas, due to Budweiser, Gibson's Whiskey, and grief, Curtis and I Wii-bowled till 5:30AM and discussed many things. I began to understand more than I ever imagined about the man I call my brother, and always will. No one is ever gonna leave your side bro. No one.
2 hours later, I woke up sweating, literally stuck to a leather couch, with a dog nose in my face. Joyous. The only thing that made me feel better about being this hungover was seeing Curtis stagger into the kitchen to answer the already-ringing phone a few minutes later. If I had to feel this shitty, at least I had company...I know he was just as fucking hungover as I was. I managed to unstick myself for the couch, which fucking hurt, and realized my pockets full of change had made their way into the bowels of my bed for the night. Oh well...donating 9.47 to Curtis and his couch was the least I could do. Dogs, cats and kids woke up, the decibel level went up, and I reluctantly re-entered the aggravation I've dodged my entire life.
I felt like garbage, but wasn't sure what to do about it...till Curtis sat down next to my with his trusty Gibson's bottle and took a swig. It might have been early, but I couldn't let him drink alone...good brothers don't do this kind of thing. Hello, Coors Light. Nice to see ya. I got a dirty look from nearly everyone for cracking a beer at 9AM, but they can go and make sweet love to themselves. If they wanna deal with their issues with tears and embraces, go ahead...that's not my fucking thing. For better or worse.
Suddenly, I'm in a hall normally reserved for drinking. A legion. If you've ever spent any time in this environment, you start to understand that a memorial service is pretty similar to your average tuesday afternoon up in a place like this. Men in uniform (or long past such trivial matters) sit around old tables with adult beverages, speaking of fallen comrades and "the good ole days". But today, my sister is that comrade, and those days are not so far gone. They were last week, and a saturday the month before that, and the celebration of another special life a couple of summers ago. Today, this place has balance...half of the people wear the uniforms of our country's finest, of which my sister was a proud member. A select few wore the pink pajamas my sister spent much of her spare time in...and the rest of us wore whatever the hell we felt like, as per Jenner's wishes.
The days leading up to this event have been filled with heartache and acrimony for many people involved, and things are not about to resolve themselves peacefully today. Her kids, my niece and nephew, are standing in front of me...confused and scared, unsure about what their future holds. 12 and 11. So impressionable. Their mom may be somewhere else, but they are not alone. Many in the room have a vested interest in their lives, and these people are just as confused and worried about how this will all play out. As important as all this stuff is, the people in this unique place of worship and death have silently agreed to set aside the next few minutes to honour the memory of someone they all hold in high regard.
People talk. The words are a blur. I'm staring at flags, at my watch, at everything but reality.
The unspoken words of Curtis resonate through the place like thunder, as much as his words did. We understand, man, as much as we can. You made me proud.
Renee is strong, articulate, and witty...the yin to my yang. I can write it here, long after the fact...but she can stand up like an adult and say it. Her words were broad and powerful. She managed to make everyone there feel like she was speaking directly to them, like no one else was in the room. She said many nice things about me up there, including compliments on my writing. And she made 100+ people stare at me. Thanks Renee! In all seriousness, sis, my writing doesn't hold a candle to your presence and personality. You made a lot of people feel really good about themselves. Jenner would be proud of you.
The power of a terrible disease was never more evident than the words expressed by the third and last official speaker at the ceremony, Jen's friend Debbie. She had known Jen a relatively short time, but Debbie had overcome cancer, and she was a true friend and sounding board for my sister. Her words were heartfelt and honest, and despite never laying eyes upon the lady until she grabbed that mic, I could see what my sister saw in her. Inspiration.
The floor is opened to anyone who wants to speak. My dad is the first volunteer. His monotone words about my mother and sister are too much for me, and I am overcome by emotion, hoping that all those people staring at me 2 minutes ago are somehow in the bathroom, or staring at the ceiling or something. I hadn't cried since the same man spoke of my mother when she passed 2 1/2 years ago, when he managed to crack up both myself and Mikey, my brother in arms. Today, I had no Mikey at my side...but I'm not ashamed to say that my lip was quivering, salty tears invaded my cheeks, and I was heartbroken. And I'm not afraid to say that as I type these words, 38 hours later...I'm wiping the same tears off the same cheeks. I've never met anyone, nor will I ever again, that will ever have that power over me. That's a testament to the greatest man I've ever known. Fred Ingram. I hope he reads this someday, so he gets it. Too bad he's allergic to the internet. : )
After that, others spoke. Members of the military spoke highly of service. Friends spoke highly of her compassion and caring nature. Everyone spoke of her stubbornness...highly or not, it was worth mentioning. : ) Sheila spoke of Jenner's love of camping, and cracked up everyone in the room after mentioning her love of tie-dye...and jello shooters. Amber, with nothing prepared beforehand, was able to define the essence of what Jenner was all about with a few short words. If anyone knew how much love Jen had in her core, it was Amber. Amber, you were Jenner's best friend...her connection to her youth, her litmus test as a mother, her sounding board, and most of all, the bestest big sister you could be to Chimene and Brandon. Thanks for tellin everyone that I'm your homey...obviously, the feeling is mutual. You're the only one I watched while they made their speech. It was all kinds of awesome. You did good....werd.
I guess you're wondering by now whether I got up and said anything. No, I did not. While I had enough to say to fill hours, days, and stadiums...I couldn't do it. As stated above, I'm much better at the written word. Jenner knew that, and was okay with it. She told me so. If I had, I dunno, 350-27,000 words though, here's what I would have said:
Jenner, you trusted me, and respected my opinion. No adult ever did before you. You came to me when times were hard, and actually asked my opinion. When I was helpful, you told me. And when I wasn't, you told me as well. You trusted me with those midget kids of yours when they were just leetle, and tried to give me part of the credit for them turning out as well as they have, deserved or not. It took a long time for me to understand the influence I wielded in your life. The confidence you showed in me and my judgement helped build the foundation for who I am today. No one has ever had the faith in me that you had. No one.
Everyone figured we were exactly alike. Every day I get accused of being just like my sister Jennifer, and I couldn't think of a bigger compliment. When mom died, you were there, right beside me. I knew I'd wake up in the morning, and you'd be there to laugh at my terrible jokes...and vice versa. Mostly yours, but hey, who's counting. Ya know what? When all this went down, that made me wanna get outta bed in the morning, no matter how terrible I felt. So I could make other people laugh, and ease their pain. These people...Curtis, of course....Chimene, Brandon...Dad, and Amber, and Val, and Justin n Jeff, Renee, Jonanthan, and their midgets, and Gerry...that's your legacy, along with many others. They make me laugh, just like you would. You would have laughed at Amber, Val, And Justin in Jenner-style pink pajamas. At Sheila talking bout you and your Jello Shots. At your military superiors commenting on your legendary stubbornness. At Renee talking about the f'n terrible clothes you used to wear back in the day.
I'm sorry I didn't get up and tell them all this. You know me. I'd rather be read than heard. Renee is the talker, I'm the writer. I hope you're not mad. Ya know, even if ya are...screw you! Next time our paths cross, I'm gonna tell you about all the awesome jokes I came up with! They're terrible and wrong, and everyone would condemn me to some bad places for coming up with them, but you woulda laughed your ass off. You're the only one that ever appreciated that kinda shit, and vice versa. Even when mom died, we mighta offended a lot of people, but we sure fuckin entertained each other! Yours were worse than mine...YEAH!...but I'll be goddamned if you didn't have me in tears from laughter every day. When your bench at Hatley is done and there....I'm gonna show up and tell you the worst jokes possible...jokes only you and I would appreciate. Screw the rest of em if they don't understand....I can just imagine the hilarity you'd get outta seeing me talking to a bench.
Jenner, always remember this...I've said it before to you...but....
No matter what they told you, you're not alone
I'll be right beside you
Forevermore.
I love you Jenner. Sweet dreams.
Friday, November 23, 2007
10 reasons why Vancouver transit sucks a dick
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