2003 Port Franks, ON

Memories from the weekend;

Attendees:

Rod (fly's in from Victoria), Leo, Deano, Cookie, Harps, Mowbs, Freud, Scuiser, Beaups and Potsy.

Absent: Nob, Guy, Mel and Halley

The ASSHOLE as voted by his peers, after a 13 year absence from the podium..BEAUPs…with 6 votes.

First runner up , and already un-campaigning for 2004…Freud…with 4 votes.

As per usual , Boomer was the first to pay, apparently stretching his “first to pay” streak to 14 years. He had to share the accolades this year as the mailman had the nerve to deliver Floyd’s check to Deano on the same day. Upon close inspection, it appears that Freud actually dated his check one day earlier than Boomer, but Deano opened Boomers envelope first, and the “date of signing” on the check sent by Freud could not be verified by a notary public. Deano therefore, under the circumstances, declared the “first to pay” contest a draw.

Four of the lads started the weekend traditionally with the Friday golf game at St Gorgeous and BBQ at Mowbs’…but then one of the assholes, untraditionally left the field and went home. Yes the Knobster made a guest appearance this year…but only made the warm up day, not to the actual venue of the AOTW….thus baring him from voting or being voted for….although he does deserve it as we all know.

Four other lads went down to the Bend a little early and played “Whack Fuck” as well, …and they boned up on their alcohol consumption capacity. Apparently they also sought out and succeeded in finding a suitable replacement for Daryl who also bagged out at the last minute. More on Daryl’s replacement later, but the author wants it on the record that Daryl also deserves a few votes the next time he shows his puss at an AOTW…not only for skipping out with the lamest excuse ever heard, but for saddling the rest of us with Daryl II (Chris).

Harps joined up at the Mowbs ranch to replace Knob just as Freud flew into TO …so five headed west down the 401, while four were already there, and Dinesy, solo from KitWat makes 10 ASSHOLES….Deano, Beaups, Boomer, Scruiser, Freud, Harps, hot Rod, Mowbs, Cookie, Potsie….2/3 makes a quarom…it’s an official AOTW…lets party.

Special mentions: Hot Rod traveled the farthest…from Victoria, but still had not paid half way thru the weekend. Halley was in town but could not come with a good excuse. Mel was in town, but left town so he would have an excuse (weak one). Guy did not show and did not even offer up an excuse (very weak).

Friday night , upon arrival , was the usual back slapping hugs of old buds…picking up where we left off as if it was yesterday when we last saw each other. Rod hugged Chris thinking it was Daryl thanks to Deano’s introduction. Rod thought perhaps Daryl had gotten a little heavier and more obnoxious. Harps and Rod were last to arrive due to pot induced misdirection….there is a pattern here. Everyone checked out the accommodation as usual, and as usual, scrambled for the best private bed…until we all realized there wasn’t one…what a dump….oh well, who gives a fuck where you fall down and sleep.

Highlights of Friday night include; getting to know Daryl’s replacement, Lexi and the tequila tickler on the bar, cheeta woman, pink slider, chicken wings a’la Chris, sausages a’la Floyd (the early seating and the late night snack), Mowbs fending off advances from Daryl’s replacement, the “crowd” at the bar and marina, depleting the bar’s Drambuie supply to nil and quickly switching to black russians and some other fancy fuckin’ drink. It should be noted that all of the above were completely missed by Cookie and Potsie, who went to bed (together) at 10:30. Also of significance, the above was NOT missed by Harps and Freud who both managed to stay awake til about 1:30. Last to bed…Beaups and Mowbs.

Saturday started with a bang for anyone around the picnic table and within earshot of Chris who was still drunk. Coffee, bagels, juice and more coffee were mixed with tylenol, photos and a discussion on whether or not Lexi’s tits were large , small or just right and whether real or fake. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, but no one could actually confirm the viscosity or cup size….so now there was a mission for Saturday evening. Floyd spent an hour working on the tools of his trade…the BBQ assembly. Then , once the game was decided and the caps were suitably lied and argued about…we were off to the golf course for the opening round of the 2 day tournament.

Day one produced an early clubhouse lead for the team of Roddy, Mowbs and Pushelstein…a 3 point lead over the Boomer squad. The Grainger team sported an almost undefeatable combination of low gross/high ego Grainger with a 75, and a low net/ high tech Floyd with a 58 net score…then put Mowbs in between with high cheat/ high propensity to organize the game in his favor kind of attitude, plus a winning attitude for all 3 members of the squad …well there you have it…nough said.

Saturday night we did take out pizza from Grogs….deeeelish, …plus some orgasmic cheesy sloppy fucking bread. All consumed from the elevated deck of our swank accommodations gazing at the worlds best sunset, and washed down with BEER, scotch, wine , dramb, etc. All the while the dulcet tones of Andrew Murray’s sultry voice serenaded us from the live stage at the Rivermouth bar next door. Can you beat that….I don’t think so…(well maybe, but most of us are married and Lexi’s boyfriend showed up anyways). We drifted in and out of the bar and consciousness and the pot haze and the scotch haze.

Poker was called for. $50 each doesn’t last long at a poker table when Mowbs is getting 4 jacks, 3 tens and other such incredible natural hands. One by one , the players were wiped out by Mowbs, the pile getting monstrous in front of him….until there were only 2 left. Mowbs called all in on Rod...Rod complied and pushed all he had into the pot. When the hands were flipped, Rod thought he was gone, but he had not lost and was politely asked to sit back down. The 2 warriors decided to split the pot as it was 50/50 at the time. Of special note…the AOTW black belt poker grand master of all he surveys on the poker table…..was wiped out in 3 hands…bye bye Cookie. Back to the bar for a nightcap and then to the deck. Last to bed…Mowbs and Rod…pattern here too. Second special note: Deano was the actual physical last to bed as he was seen wandering the property at 3:30…several hours after he had gone to bed…with a sleeping bag in hand. Apparently he thought he might find a corner of the village that was safe from the thunderous sounds of Beaups snoring…silly man…mission impossible.

Sunday am was a bit more of a flurry as some knob booked about a 7am tee time. We barely had time to swill some OJ and aspirin and stuff 2 beers in the golf bag…then we were off for round 2 at a decidedly nicer course. Freud managed to shoot the lights out again with low net of 65 and Grainger was stellar with gross 74 net 66. The team of Mowbs, the Graing, Pushelstein were declared team golf winners by a massive ten point margin. Golf trophy awarded to Freud with a 2 day low net of 123.

Golf and shit was done by Sunday at 2. Back to the “cabin” for more beer, sausages, scotch and the trophy. Scotty gave Chris a nice tip, but then cleaned the place up anyways….nice guy. Back to the marina picnic table for the solemn task of voting for the next Asshole of the Weekend. Some kind of fucked up discussion ensued about how to do the time honored tradition of voting which we all know, and before anyone could intercede, it was done. After much lobbying to uncampaign himself, Floyd’s strategy worked and he only got 4 votes…to Beaups with 6 votes….the 2003 Asshole of the Weekend had been chosen. Scotty proceeded to empty 10 ounces of scotch into the trophy cup and was immediately arrested for attempted murder. (people will remember that the next time you win Deano).

Beaups did an excellent job of guzzling the adjusted 4 ounces…with immediate belch, fart and watery eyes. He managed to stay standing long enough to deliver this short acceptance speech…and I quote;

“ thanks for the fucking votes you assholes, I hope you all like to fucking jump out of airplanes cause that’s what we’re fuckin’ doin next year. Thanks for the cocksuckin’ trophy…where’s the optional winner’s blow job…can I have some more of that scotch…glug, glug…thanks…Freud, toss me a fuckin’ beer you pussy gurgler. You know, I don’t care who’s mom that fat chick is on the dock…she needs a pink slider……Uh, Uh, Uh… Deano, can you drive home…gimme a scotch”.

And so it ends for another year….miraculously we all survived.