Memories from the weekend;

For only the second time in our long history, a circumstances conspired against the elected AOTW Chairman, which meant a hastily prepared back up was arranged. This time, Mowbs generously offered one of his various estates as our playground. And Collingwood proved to be the perfect setting for what proved to be another successful get together.

As has become the norm, things got underway on the Thursday night. As the recorder of the event, I can’t comment on what transpired before my arrival at 9pm, except to say there was a large and significant chunk of quality beef being devoured as I pulled in, with some fine red wine to wash it down the glutonous hatches of Mowbs, Rod, Cruiser, Leo, and Beaups. After hugging and back slapping subsided, we moved to serious conversation, namely what stinks and sinks is a sign of health. All present were relieved to learn this, and returned to full out consumption and smoking well into the wee hours (prolonged by “Just one more smoke, one more beer), where the final conversation about the merits of Irag stalled out as no one was making much sense (except to himself).

Friday began early with preparations for a 9:10 golf tee off. Mowb’s was experiencing some discomfort which was a sign of things to come, but nonetheless toughed it out and led the way in his new M6 convertible. Floyd met us at the golf course to complete the teams. Not much good golf was being played, and a new rule was hatched as a result: in the future, no serious activity to be booked before 11am.

Around the 15th hole our foursome learned that Mowbs had left for the hospital with what we suspected was kidney stones (and later proved to be the case). Thoughts ran wild…what a weird weekend it might be if the host was absent…how would we operate the various complex entertainment and/or pleasure systems, should we call Stacey and ask if she knew where the porno videos were hidden, etc. In the end to ease our minds, we went shopping. We also visited Mowbs in Emergency at Collingwood hospital where he was holed up in the back with Larry. He assured us he would be back soon…a bit optimistic we thought, but drugs have that effect.

By this time, Guy had arrived, and he and Rod shared their feelings on “Asset sell offs.” The rest of us prepared a grownup meal with green stuff –no cans or pouches in sight. A fine dinner was had by all.

Much to our surprise, Mowbs did make a fast recovery and returned (Larry not so lucky) with some unique party hats and a special diet of pain killers and infection fighters. Good thing we didn’t call Stacey.

Daryl arrived shortly after dinner, bringing the total of convertible BMWs to three. What all this talk about recession, liquidity crisis?

The rest of Friday evening played out as usual, but with a new topic this year: Viagra. The other surprise: Rod and Paul retiring before the rest of us. This was a cause for concern, as the thought of those two being well rested caused imaginations to run wild. And one other surprise: still no porno videos, not even a request for one. One tradition, however, was repeated: sausage.

The next morning brought out requests that Beaups bring his anti-snoring apparatus next year, a resolution that was quickly passed. After breakfast, preparations began for the main event of the day: canoeing down Beaver River. Much to everyone’s glee, Nob joined us and then it was off to see Matt at Spirit Tours.

Most of the three hour trip (one hour longer than norm) was spent with all five canoes linked together, a floating barge-like structure which proved to be quite suitable to conversation, beer drinking and smoking. It wasn’t until near the end and the beer was gone that each canoe team postured up for some competitive paddling to see who would be first to return. After butter tarts and Guy’s farewell, we headed back to the new AOTW clubhouse.

The new dads– Scott and John – were there to greet us with stories of fatherhood and the life altering effects of their new acquisitions. Rob had a final beer before heading back home.

Dinner plans were originally an evening out in Collingwood, but Paul and Rod had made an executive decision and instead ordered up a catered meal. This proved to be a good call as the ribs and secondi’s were fantastic.

After filing our pie holes to the max, Scotty (the pyro) McCallum set to work on the bonfire. Mowbs had a few presents for Scott: a large crate box and Christmas tree. It was the latter that almost resulted in visit from the fire department as flames reached 15 feet in the air, causing some of the nearby trees some serious consternation.

Advancing age, a couple of late nights earlier, and a nagging piece of penis shrapnel meant that things never got to far out of hand, and thus a rather tame evening it was, with many of us sneaking away just past midnight, the mandatory must-stay-awake-until-then hour.

Sunday morning was a very leisurely affair, as the only event planned was some mini putt at mid day. Past events had rarely been this laid back. Also new was seeing Rod sneak in some work, a rare sighting indeed.

Scott and John said their good byes, as both had to get home to relieve their wives on the baby front. Their departure would bring the total of “drop-ins” to 33% of attendees –another new record.

The remaining assholes – Floyd, Rod, Mowbs, Cruiser, Leo, Beaups, Daryl, Harps – cracked the first light beers of the morning, and sat out back, contemplating what, if anything, we should do, but eventually it was agreed that if no hike was in the works (as per original itinerary), then we should at least go to the mini putt. So off we went, for the first real competitive event of the weekend.

This 18 holes of real grass proved to be a challenge for some of the better golfers, as neither Rod nor Leo were there at the end. Instead it was Cruiser (no surprise) and yours truly who were tied and forced into sudden death. Cruiser proved to have the much steadier nerves, and easily won the play-off hole and the golf trophy – again.

Back at the chalet, sausage was prepared and discussions ensued as to voting criteria. As no real asshole moves had been forthcoming over the weekend, other criteria were bandied about, but nothing seemed to gain traction other than the usual: who hasn’t done it for a while. Votes were cast and Daryl and my big mouth got the most votes, which resulted in another vote which (sigh) Daryl won by a slim margin.

And so it was, another year, another asshole anointed, a few more good memories logged, a couple of new issues raised, and a new stoner was born among us.

Attendees:

Floyd, Rod, Mowbs, Cruiser, Leo, Beaups, Daryl, Harps, Nob, Guy, Deano and John

Voting totals:

Votes 1 results in a tie between Harps and Daryl

Daryl wins in the shoot out