Memories from the weekend;

Attendees:

Leo, Deano, Harps, Mowbs, Freud, Scuiser, Coney and Beaups.

Absent: Nob, Mel, Halley, Cookie, Rod, Guy,and Potsy

Voting totals:

Freud 1

Deano 3

Cruiser 4

But there was a new category established by the gals from Sarnia who created the "AOTN" Asshole of the night. Their votes were:

Deano 17 of 17 ballots cast by the ladies from Sarnia.

Harp's play by play of the weekend;

As is customary, the “weekend” began on the Thursday, only this time it was not at the Mowbray residence as is often the case. Instead, the keeners rendezvoused at Scott McCallum’s in Farmington Hills. The 80’s glam house served as an appropriate launching pad for our Annual, although the empty hottub was discussed as a potential vote. In attendance: Deano, Leo, Cruiser, Mowbs and Harps. The night was spent outdoors where the top-of-mind discussion point was our various health ailments. Realizing we were acting like middle-aged assholes, things quickly move to more usual, manly conversation points such as girls, cars, fitness trainers, etc. After much insistence, a pizza was ordered and after Paul had his fill, the rest of us were invited to pick over the remains. Three bottles of wine, countless beers, sausage, chips, scotch and Drambuis later, we retired, but not before dealing with the “did you know this is a $5,000 rug ?” wine spill drama. Oh yeah, there was the porno video which proved to be as constant throughout the weekend. “Do you prefer Brazillian or landing strip?” became a popular refrain throughout the next few days.

Friday morning came too earlier, and necessitated a quick exit and flurry of calls to Beaups who was on his way to join us for a round of golf. Mowbs arranged the two teams with predictable results: He, Leo, and Beaups foot wedged themselves to victory and a lunch at the expense of the three losers…a foreshadowing of what was to follow on the official golf day. After the mandatory round of post lunch smokes, Beaups and Deano headed off to pick up Freud at the airport. The rest us piled into Leo’s van, and headed off our main destination, accompanied by some Brazillians.

Two hours later and after a few false starts, we finally got to the J&J Ranch and our two cabins in The Back 40. Good job Deano! We were all happy with the accommodation and quickly settled into a steady rotation of eat, drink and smoke, while we awaited for Daryl in his new German-engineered wheels. When he arrived, the group was complete – but only a total of eight had seen fit to make an appearance, the lowest number ever. Hailey’s last minute bail-out was excused based on legitimate reasons (hospital).

The need for food triggered a call to the shuttle – which proved to be a very handy service throughout the weekend – and we made our way to the nearest bar/restaurant where we stumbled in on a stagette acceptance speech. Dinner in a basket was to follow, after which we decided to investigate the much touted “Wagon Wheel”. We walked in on the final stages of a fierce competition of cowboy vs. cowgirl on the mechanical bull. All of us were in favour of avoiding a separated shoulder, and so none of us stepped up to the stirrups. Afterwards, the stage was impressively cleared in short order, and an attractive assortment of line dancers took to the floor. After much oogling and bravado, a number of us snuck back to the cabin, while others – most surprisingly Freud – hung out a little longer before retiring.

Saturday morning start allowed for bacon and eggs for all, before the pack split off, with Mowbs and Cruiser opting for fishing (definite vote attracting behaviour), while the rest of us headed to the Main Event, the cattle drive. After our briefing, we each assigned a horse that either suited our size (Tank), personality (Sassy) or reputation (Trojan). We then made our way to the holding pen where 30 cattle awaited our arrival. We were each assigned to a key position – pusher, wing man, lead – and proceeded out into the open field. The first half hour was largely spent coming to grips with horse control, some of us – Leo in particular – showing a greater aptitude for being at one with his mount. As we managed to move from one field to another, our confidence grew and we started to look and act like real cowboys. “Yeeehaaaa! Get moving you big hamburger….get out of that cornfield you big-assed piece of steak!” At the half way point, Deano and Leo succeeded where our guide failed: through a deft handling of their horse, they were able to single out one of the cattle and chase it from the herd. Well done boys! Shortly thereafter, we headed back, our pace much improved, although we’re not sure if the cattle were just tired of the game and were in a rush to get back to their rest place.

After a difficult dismount, we walked bull legged to the shuttle which whisked us back to camp where sausage, beer, a hot shower were put to good use. No sooner had we made our recovery when 24 Sarnia female units burst on the scene to examine our trophy and press us for details on our Charter. With all 24 talking at the same time, each trying to out screech the other, it was both exciting and overwhelming. Much like what I suspect a party of eight year-olds would sound like, only louder. Anyways, they proved to be pretty interesting lot – pretty good for girls anyway – and we would hook up later that afternoon and again at night, with some interesting stories emerging the next day.

Mowbs and Cruiser finally showed up and reported as follows: 20 fish (including 3 lost salmon). Shortly thereafter, the shuttle then whisked us off to Wagon Wheel for $1 margaritas. Loud, bad music drove us outside. This proved to be a pivatol point in the voting stakes as a number of the boys were unable to resist the ludicrously cheap drinks and proceeded to get “quite tight.”

Our shuttle man took us back to the cabins for a quick refreshing before heading off to a nice dinner at the golf course. It was at this point Deano seemed to be making a play to repeat as AOTW Chairman, with three lame pick-up attempts in five minutes, one of which began with, “hi, I’m Scott, people at work think I’m really smart. What’s your name?” Fortunately, Deano showed a great capacity to hold his liquor and the dinner hour continued without any escalation, although Mowbs did betray a little of his disposition at the time with some characteristically loud, blustery displays.

The trusty shuttle was called upon, wherein the driver informed us of the unusually high caliber of female units which he had dropped off at the Wagon Wheel. He strongly encouraged us to follow his advice, which we did. After playing coy, some of the boys made their way to the dance floor where the first (harmless) clothing exchange occurred between one of the Sarnia contingent and an AOTW member. This display emboldened another AOTW member to sign up for the official clothing exchange competition, involving 9 other couples. His confidence was not unwarranted, for he did go on to win the competition, but as a by-product also earned further consideration in the Sunday voting.

At this point, the author snuck off to bed, and so further details of the evening are sketchy, although reports were that the traditional sausage and fireside chitchat occurred, wrapping up at 4am.

7am came quickly, especially for the late night revelers, some of whom were still under the influence at wake-up time. Our resident philosopher, Beaups, layed the insightful thought provoking line, “There’s nothing worse than waking up dead” which pretty much summed up the general disposition of the group. After a bit of coffee, muffin and landing strips, it was off to the golf course where Mowbs, Leo, Beaups and Freud snagged the coveted trophy over a hapless Cruiser-led team whose conversation throughout the tourney consisted mostly of “Thanks Scott, sorry Scott”

Upon returning to the cabins we found that a contingent of the Sarnia girls had taken it upon themselves to create a new category “Asshole of the night.” A thoughtful suggestion, thank you. We will take it under advisement.

In any event, the final tally was as follows:

Freud – 1

Deano – 3

Cruiser – 4

After the obligatory Scotch, photos, and handshakes, it was back in the cars and long journey East, at least for some of us. It’s a good thing Deano didn’t win again. God knows how far we would have had to travel next year. All in all, a great weekend, and another excellent new activity. So remember when outfitting the trophy, Cruiser, the theme was horses, not pickerel. Thanks Scott for keeping the tradition alive.