Perspectives of a Canadian in the Old/Deep/New/Geographic South: This is where I ramble on about nothing in particular and post a few nice pictures.
It was mid-week of one of the houseboat trips. Plenty of food left, but booze was getting low and we needed to restock.
We drifted up one of the arms of the lake to hit the store at the end. Joe, piloting the other houseboat pulls up to the dock and starts driving it back and forth, back and forth. We yell at him asking “Joe! What the hell are you doing?!”
Joe yells back “I’m parallel parking!”
You are but the buzzing of a fly to me, for I am VIGO!!!
A battlecry commonly used by Houseboat Hooligans (paraphrased from Ghostbusters 2) to challenge other houseboat dwellers (most of whom had no idea what it meant).
On my first houseboating trip (Houseboat Hooligans 2.5), one of the guys brought Wilma along. Once we got underway, a hole was punched into Wilma and her insides pulverized with a coat hanger. Then booze was poured into her.
Wilma was a watermelon. There was much drinking from Wilma done on that trip. The usual practice with Wilma was to fill her up with enough booze to get a good buzz going and then head out visiting different boats and parties. A guy carrying a watermelon and drinking from it naturally attracts a fair bit of attention, so many people ended up sampling from Wilma and pronouncing it an excellent idea. At some point while making the rounds to different parties, Wilma would run out of booze. Sometimes instead of having to head back to the boat for a refill, the current party hosts would generously offer to refill Wilma from their stocks so everyone could continue drinking from the melon. This quickly developed into a scheme to get free booze by filling Wilma with enough booze for people to get a taste before ‘running out’. People, so enamoured with drinking out of a watermelon would offer to refill Wilma with some of their booze so the party could continue uninterrupted.
This went on for about 4 days before Wilma was broken. Then everybody feasted on the booze soaked rind.
It was a bright sunny afternoon with most of us lying around either up on top of the houseboat or down below in a pleasant state of drunkeness. Some of the guys were out tooling around on rented jet skis. Suddenly we were all jolted out of our drunken reverie by a loud WHAAAAMMMMM! We went over to the side to see what hit us, and there in the water was a disabled jet ski and Scott floating in the water with a large red welt on his back.
Strangely enough he seemed more concerned that he couldn’t get the rented jet ski started back up again and how he was going to explain it to the rental place.
Later we learned he was out on the water spinning donuts a little too close to the houseboat and spun himself into the end of the houseboat pontoon. You could even see the marks left by the bolts in the large bruise on his back. He may not have been feeling any pain at the time, but he was sure feeling it later on in the day.
So apparently my undead friend Oreo has communicated with the land of the living through one of my friends to say that yes, he really is getting married this time. No idea when or where. Communicating with the dead is never very reliable after all. And then there’s the matter of wallets.