Sunday's recap (The unabbreviated version)
Hey yaars!
I'll make an attempt at chronicling my favourite moments of the year in the coming days. But in the meantime, here's the blow-by-blow report from yesterday:
So the day started out fair enough, with yours truly crawling out of bed at 7:30AM to meet up with Jason for breakfast at 8:30AM. We both figured this would be a great way to mutually make amends for Friday's debacle. Of course as my luck would have it, our plans once again turned out flat right from the get-go! Jason conveniently forgot that he was suppose to start at 9, not 10 as he remembered, hence he was scrambling to phone me. Now seeing as he had my old cell number, he ended up having his call forwarded to my mum. While all of this is happening, I'm waiting at Yonge/Dundas Square like an idiot, with NOBODY there. I do not recommend chilling there on Sunday mornings. Finally when I decided to phone Jason at 8:45, he was hustling from Queen and Spadina to (a) find me, (b) get some coffee, and (c) get to work! Thank goodness I had the car parked at Ryerson so as to avoid the long walk to the R.C. I must admit, Jason was kind enough to pay for my coffee too, a fancy-schmancy creme brulee (pardon the lack of accent aigus). I must admit it did taste good though!
Once we got to the Rogers Centre (at like 9:10), Jason went straight to work, taking care of his responsibilities. Since I had about 80 minutes to kill, I decided to head on over to the Jays shop for one last hurrah of money down the toilet for cheezy Jays gear. Me being me, I bought a t-shirt, and Jays garbage can of all things! I suppose art echoes life when it comes to the Jays and their season going to the bins.
After dumping my stuff into the car at the Convention Centre, I quickly grabbed a muffin and pepsi from second cup, and was off to work. Heading downstairs one last time this year was a moving experience, as I learned to love my daily forays downstairs to see the smiling faces I adore. I suppose it's similar to when the Leafs leave the dressing room to hit the ice, there's just that aura and presence that makes it electric. Once our fearless leader Mr. John MacIntyre managed to fire up the troops one last time, I silently took a moment to absorb the moment and enjoy it while it lasted. Enjoying one of Derek's Tim Horton's cookies sure helped do that!
Working the windows was a blast. I had all the usuals come on over to say their goodbyes. My personal favourite was Mr. Chaitov, shaking my hand and giving me a pack of Smarties.
A pack of Smarties? Was he trying to say I'm dumb? Is it because I'm Pakistani? (If you haven't got that joke by now, you never will. I've ridden that joke for ages now!).
After the Smarties incident, work was great, with me making a total of $0 in sales. Now really, who was going to by a ticket to a game in which they had already purchased a ticket, and had entered the stadium? All I got were questions pertaining to tickets for next year, which I answered with my trademark, humble, yet funny demeanour.
Once the game was over (we won by the way), I quickly packed up and began to change into my new, end-of-year party gear. I finally debuted the new jeans I bought (which still had to have their tags cut), and wore a "borrowed" Stewie Griffin t-shirt from the little brother. It was one of his birthday presents from last week, but since he liberally steals from my closet, I thought I'd return the favour! Finally, after putting on some FCUK, and my contacts, I was ready to be my sexbomb self!
Thank goodness I had Jamie with me to get there, I would have been lost otherwise. Give me 90% of locations in Scarborough and I can get there no problem, but downtown, I'm usually 90% screwed. I still forget the difference between John St. And Peter St.
Once I had "arrived", I was glad to see I had a seat waiting for me on the "cool" table beside wickedy-wicked Ben and the lovely Val. Also at the table were many of my better friends from the Blue Jays (Jason, Courtney, and Jon, amongst others). Before I even comfortably sat down, Good ol' Scott Hext pours me a Moosehead from the other side of the room! Despite having reservations at drinking from a glass which I hadn't seen been poured, I reluctantly guzzled the drink down. Not bad I must say. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. In the form of Liquid Cocaine.
No I haven't become a druggie, it's apparently a damn hard combination of Jagermeister, Goldschlager, and potentially other hard drinks. Foregoing better judgment and falling trap to peer pressure, I begrudingly took it down with the rest of the crowd. Three words : fuck, fuck, fuck!
Drinking that was akin to drinking down a bottle of Scope. Which was fair enough, I'm known to guzzle down salt-lemon-hot water drinks and Buckley's with regularity when sick. But this drink had me knocked out within SECONDS of it registering into my system. I really gained a slight headache and was dizzy for a good 45 minutes. Whoever thought of the name Liquid Cocaine for that drink was definitely not falsely advertising! To be fair though, there were a few compounding variables which led to that situation. Lack of sleep (4 hrs), lack of food (one muffin all day), and already having a beer in my system led to my situation.
Thank God for Val and Jon! They quickly surmised that something was up when they saw my facial reaction (was it that obvious?), and quickly ordered water and food, pouring me glass after glass to get better. That, and about 40 of the Muslim equivalent of Hail Mary's had me decent within the hour.
Onto the big speeches of course. Doug managed to surmise our season in great vernacular, giving some of our last cheers as a group for a season well completed. I suppose I did blush a bit at his mentioning of my newfound alcohol skills to everyone in the room, as I had never touched a drink in my life till this season. It was then off to dishing out prizes for hitting 40 out of 60 on sales targets for games this season. Surprisingly enough, Jamie became the new Derek Myers, winning 3 times, giving the best Academy Awards loser-like smile of appreciation for winning 4 Hockey Hall of Fame passes. Mr. Myers on the other hand was shut out completely! Another highlight was seeing the look on Gino's face when Doug gave him kudos for being a great base runner (Story of the Decade bar-none!).
During the prize giveaways, I was quick to bust out the cell to text L.A., who had called me right in the middle of Doug's speech, were I kindly had to hang up and mute the phone (Sorry Sorry Sorry for that!). Right when I'm about to hit send on the text, guess who shows up! All that button pushing for nothing. I'm stoked that she finds a place at our table, and eagerly anticipating the final encounter with Gino that I've been waiting to see for days!
So the bash continues, and I'm finally getting over the Liquid Cocaine when the waitress bring me over a shot glass with something called a "649" in it. I say I didn't order it, she mentions that it was "sent" to me by someone. Little did I know Jeff would try to send me on a kamikaze mission with the 649. With the bundling peer pressure of all there, I had to gulp it down in order to preserve the honour, and one-up Joel on the whole Jewish/Muslim rivalry with the drinking (all tongue-in cheek of course, though I think relatively speaking, for someone who had only had 5 beers his whole life, I won hands down!).
Surprisingly enough, it wasn't that bad. No real taste, but I didn't feel messed up at all. It could have been the food in the bloodstream helping out as well, or perhaps my drunkard desi genes at work.
Soon after everyone is schmoozing, having a good time, when Gino FINALLY mozies on over to our end, at which point Jeff challenges him to dance on the stage. Of course him being G-Unit, we were graciously exposed to this:
Long live the Travolta stylings of Gino everyone !
Soon after many began saying their sorrowful goodbyes, slowly having a full room become half full. I must give massive props to Tanya who was worried about me and was adamant that I drink LOTS of water before driving home (I did!). While saying goodbye to many, my bladder got the better of me, forcing me to go to the men's room to take a whizz, hence missing out on what would have had me on the floor laughing. Our boy G-Money made a point of supposedly hugging and attempting to kiss each and every female who left, and to those who stayed when he was about to leave. He shockedly had the courage to hug Val, laid a peck near L.A.'s eye, yet unfortunately missed out on getting some love from Courtney, as she "doesn't like people". Her words not mine, and I need a secondary source to verify if that really happened!
While I missed all of that, I was quickly informed of the happenings and had quite the laugh. We all chilled, shooting the breeze on anything and everything, till the point came where I jokingly quipped whether it would be nicer to get a peck from Gino or myself (I'm such a sly bastard aren't I? ;) . That of course led to the greatest moment, if not of the year, of at least the decade:
The words Yabba, Dabba and Do come immediately to mind!
As everyone slowly started shuffling out, I decided to jet, taking Jamie, Courtney and Jason along for the ride back to their respective places. Thank heaven's I didn't get lost this time (for once), managing to say my adieus with a smile on my face. Finally when I was left alone for the drive to Scarborough, my sadness hits, courtesy of f***ing Chum FM! Here were the three songs they played immediately after I had dropped Jamie (my last passenger) off:
Jon Secada - Just another Day
Green Day - When September Ends
Keane - Somewhere Only We Know
I kept my composure till the Keane song, I let a tear roll down my cheeks as I sang along to Tom Chaplin's great sad song. Damnit I said I wouldn't cry, but it was emotional.
So that's it, a great season coming to an end. After falling into bed on arrival at home, I woke up at 4, deciding to be the gentleman that I am, and write personalized thanks to anyone who I deemed cool enough for me! And if you're reading this, you're one of the SUPER cool ones who got the special URL for my life's tales and tribulations. I've had a great season, enjoying each and every moment of what has transpired between everyone (except maybe this last Friday). My last thought comes straight off of the woodwork my parent's found when they moved into their first home back some 27 years ago:
I'll make an attempt at chronicling my favourite moments of the year in the coming days. But in the meantime, here's the blow-by-blow report from yesterday:
So the day started out fair enough, with yours truly crawling out of bed at 7:30AM to meet up with Jason for breakfast at 8:30AM. We both figured this would be a great way to mutually make amends for Friday's debacle. Of course as my luck would have it, our plans once again turned out flat right from the get-go! Jason conveniently forgot that he was suppose to start at 9, not 10 as he remembered, hence he was scrambling to phone me. Now seeing as he had my old cell number, he ended up having his call forwarded to my mum. While all of this is happening, I'm waiting at Yonge/Dundas Square like an idiot, with NOBODY there. I do not recommend chilling there on Sunday mornings. Finally when I decided to phone Jason at 8:45, he was hustling from Queen and Spadina to (a) find me, (b) get some coffee, and (c) get to work! Thank goodness I had the car parked at Ryerson so as to avoid the long walk to the R.C. I must admit, Jason was kind enough to pay for my coffee too, a fancy-schmancy creme brulee (pardon the lack of accent aigus). I must admit it did taste good though!
Once we got to the Rogers Centre (at like 9:10), Jason went straight to work, taking care of his responsibilities. Since I had about 80 minutes to kill, I decided to head on over to the Jays shop for one last hurrah of money down the toilet for cheezy Jays gear. Me being me, I bought a t-shirt, and Jays garbage can of all things! I suppose art echoes life when it comes to the Jays and their season going to the bins.
After dumping my stuff into the car at the Convention Centre, I quickly grabbed a muffin and pepsi from second cup, and was off to work. Heading downstairs one last time this year was a moving experience, as I learned to love my daily forays downstairs to see the smiling faces I adore. I suppose it's similar to when the Leafs leave the dressing room to hit the ice, there's just that aura and presence that makes it electric. Once our fearless leader Mr. John MacIntyre managed to fire up the troops one last time, I silently took a moment to absorb the moment and enjoy it while it lasted. Enjoying one of Derek's Tim Horton's cookies sure helped do that!
Working the windows was a blast. I had all the usuals come on over to say their goodbyes. My personal favourite was Mr. Chaitov, shaking my hand and giving me a pack of Smarties.
A pack of Smarties? Was he trying to say I'm dumb? Is it because I'm Pakistani? (If you haven't got that joke by now, you never will. I've ridden that joke for ages now!).
After the Smarties incident, work was great, with me making a total of $0 in sales. Now really, who was going to by a ticket to a game in which they had already purchased a ticket, and had entered the stadium? All I got were questions pertaining to tickets for next year, which I answered with my trademark, humble, yet funny demeanour.
Once the game was over (we won by the way), I quickly packed up and began to change into my new, end-of-year party gear. I finally debuted the new jeans I bought (which still had to have their tags cut), and wore a "borrowed" Stewie Griffin t-shirt from the little brother. It was one of his birthday presents from last week, but since he liberally steals from my closet, I thought I'd return the favour! Finally, after putting on some FCUK, and my contacts, I was ready to be my sexbomb self!
Thank goodness I had Jamie with me to get there, I would have been lost otherwise. Give me 90% of locations in Scarborough and I can get there no problem, but downtown, I'm usually 90% screwed. I still forget the difference between John St. And Peter St.
Once I had "arrived", I was glad to see I had a seat waiting for me on the "cool" table beside wickedy-wicked Ben and the lovely Val. Also at the table were many of my better friends from the Blue Jays (Jason, Courtney, and Jon, amongst others). Before I even comfortably sat down, Good ol' Scott Hext pours me a Moosehead from the other side of the room! Despite having reservations at drinking from a glass which I hadn't seen been poured, I reluctantly guzzled the drink down. Not bad I must say. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. In the form of Liquid Cocaine.
No I haven't become a druggie, it's apparently a damn hard combination of Jagermeister, Goldschlager, and potentially other hard drinks. Foregoing better judgment and falling trap to peer pressure, I begrudingly took it down with the rest of the crowd. Three words : fuck, fuck, fuck!
Drinking that was akin to drinking down a bottle of Scope. Which was fair enough, I'm known to guzzle down salt-lemon-hot water drinks and Buckley's with regularity when sick. But this drink had me knocked out within SECONDS of it registering into my system. I really gained a slight headache and was dizzy for a good 45 minutes. Whoever thought of the name Liquid Cocaine for that drink was definitely not falsely advertising! To be fair though, there were a few compounding variables which led to that situation. Lack of sleep (4 hrs), lack of food (one muffin all day), and already having a beer in my system led to my situation.
Thank God for Val and Jon! They quickly surmised that something was up when they saw my facial reaction (was it that obvious?), and quickly ordered water and food, pouring me glass after glass to get better. That, and about 40 of the Muslim equivalent of Hail Mary's had me decent within the hour.
Onto the big speeches of course. Doug managed to surmise our season in great vernacular, giving some of our last cheers as a group for a season well completed. I suppose I did blush a bit at his mentioning of my newfound alcohol skills to everyone in the room, as I had never touched a drink in my life till this season. It was then off to dishing out prizes for hitting 40 out of 60 on sales targets for games this season. Surprisingly enough, Jamie became the new Derek Myers, winning 3 times, giving the best Academy Awards loser-like smile of appreciation for winning 4 Hockey Hall of Fame passes. Mr. Myers on the other hand was shut out completely! Another highlight was seeing the look on Gino's face when Doug gave him kudos for being a great base runner (Story of the Decade bar-none!).
During the prize giveaways, I was quick to bust out the cell to text L.A., who had called me right in the middle of Doug's speech, were I kindly had to hang up and mute the phone (Sorry Sorry Sorry for that!). Right when I'm about to hit send on the text, guess who shows up! All that button pushing for nothing. I'm stoked that she finds a place at our table, and eagerly anticipating the final encounter with Gino that I've been waiting to see for days!
So the bash continues, and I'm finally getting over the Liquid Cocaine when the waitress bring me over a shot glass with something called a "649" in it. I say I didn't order it, she mentions that it was "sent" to me by someone. Little did I know Jeff would try to send me on a kamikaze mission with the 649. With the bundling peer pressure of all there, I had to gulp it down in order to preserve the honour, and one-up Joel on the whole Jewish/Muslim rivalry with the drinking (all tongue-in cheek of course, though I think relatively speaking, for someone who had only had 5 beers his whole life, I won hands down!).
Surprisingly enough, it wasn't that bad. No real taste, but I didn't feel messed up at all. It could have been the food in the bloodstream helping out as well, or perhaps my drunkard desi genes at work.
Soon after everyone is schmoozing, having a good time, when Gino FINALLY mozies on over to our end, at which point Jeff challenges him to dance on the stage. Of course him being G-Unit, we were graciously exposed to this:
Long live the Travolta stylings of Gino everyone !
Soon after many began saying their sorrowful goodbyes, slowly having a full room become half full. I must give massive props to Tanya who was worried about me and was adamant that I drink LOTS of water before driving home (I did!). While saying goodbye to many, my bladder got the better of me, forcing me to go to the men's room to take a whizz, hence missing out on what would have had me on the floor laughing. Our boy G-Money made a point of supposedly hugging and attempting to kiss each and every female who left, and to those who stayed when he was about to leave. He shockedly had the courage to hug Val, laid a peck near L.A.'s eye, yet unfortunately missed out on getting some love from Courtney, as she "doesn't like people". Her words not mine, and I need a secondary source to verify if that really happened!
While I missed all of that, I was quickly informed of the happenings and had quite the laugh. We all chilled, shooting the breeze on anything and everything, till the point came where I jokingly quipped whether it would be nicer to get a peck from Gino or myself (I'm such a sly bastard aren't I? ;) . That of course led to the greatest moment, if not of the year, of at least the decade:
The words Yabba, Dabba and Do come immediately to mind!
As everyone slowly started shuffling out, I decided to jet, taking Jamie, Courtney and Jason along for the ride back to their respective places. Thank heaven's I didn't get lost this time (for once), managing to say my adieus with a smile on my face. Finally when I was left alone for the drive to Scarborough, my sadness hits, courtesy of f***ing Chum FM! Here were the three songs they played immediately after I had dropped Jamie (my last passenger) off:
Jon Secada - Just another Day
Green Day - When September Ends
Keane - Somewhere Only We Know
I kept my composure till the Keane song, I let a tear roll down my cheeks as I sang along to Tom Chaplin's great sad song. Damnit I said I wouldn't cry, but it was emotional.
So that's it, a great season coming to an end. After falling into bed on arrival at home, I woke up at 4, deciding to be the gentleman that I am, and write personalized thanks to anyone who I deemed cool enough for me! And if you're reading this, you're one of the SUPER cool ones who got the special URL for my life's tales and tribulations. I've had a great season, enjoying each and every moment of what has transpired between everyone (except maybe this last Friday). My last thought comes straight off of the woodwork my parent's found when they moved into their first home back some 27 years ago:
Count your age
by friends, not years
Count your life
by smiles, not tears
by friends, not years
Count your life
by smiles, not tears
If what above is even remotely true, I'd like to think I'm an old guy who's having a great life. Straight from my aorta - Thank You
posted by Naveed at
11:11 PM
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