Sourced from my umpteen photo files & albums throughout the years...
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DATELINE: 23 September 1989 – Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
My wedding participation ribbons to date
Ring Bearer: 1 Time
Best Man: 4 Times
Groomsman: 2 Times
Usher: 1 Time
MC: 1 Time
Never the Groom—I hope I don't die alone.
How many VICES; and how much consumption, is too much?
Nothings risk-free, Lindsay--a taste won't harm you. It may even take you to a better place.
One last question: Once I VICE—how long will I stay on the program?
Lindsay, it all depends on how much you want to experience, and how far you want to get away from reality?
May I suggest: Start with a taste and take it from there!
Intriguing, I think I will start with--
Cam and I played football together. His father owned a Greek Restaurant. He offered me a bartending job. I accepted. The position stripped away my bartending virginity.
In Calgary, the night after the sloshed evening, we tried to relive the debauchery of the night before. I suggested I was so drunk I could've had sex and not remembered.
Cam claimed my thoughts were insane.
Kathy piped in: Lindsay did walk through the hotel lobby naked.
I was trying to sleep on my sisters’ sofa bed. It was 5:30 AM. Bernice and Sadie were sitting on opposite sides of the bed. They were both taking long hard pulls on their fags. I cracked my eye(s) open ever so slightly. I pretended to sleep. A haze of smoke rivalling a blues bar was smothering me. They bantered back and forth over top me. Their words hung in the smoke.
We sipped Red Stripes together. Steve informed us of the challenges of owning a business in Jamaica. We shared life stories with him. He was interested in our potential.
Wes jumped in saying we were prepared to offer $2.5-million.
I stared blankly at Wes.
A $2.9-million offer was accepted.
Shortly after that, I sat in the waiting room of a small village clinic. Wes placed my flip flops on my toe-dangled feet. A fan blew at my face. Every two minutes a nurse would come by to empty the blood from my sandals.
Hello, I'm Dr Babs.
His degree was from the University of Nigeria. He said he'd fix me up good for $100 US. The price would include Demerol + cleaning + stitches.
I had $60 Canadian on me.
He said he’d do the best he could.
When I sent Greg to pick up the tickets, the DAY of the flight, I specifically instructed him to purchase: MEDICAL INSURANCE.
Several months later the hospital bills began rolling in. OUCH. Private hospital rooms in the States are SELL-YOUR-FIRST-BORN expensive.
Not to worry, I’d get Greg to bring over the MEDICAL INSURANCE I’d instructed him to buy on the DAY of the flight and everything would be okay.
Greg came over. He looked distraught. I asked him to hand me the insurance papers.
By mistake, you bought FLIGHT CANCELLATION INSURANCE?
Being patted on the back by Jamaican pavement isn't fun, a painful lesson. What's more painful—I'd better go have a first born.
Wes and I began rolling coins.
Wes would fill a cleaning bottle with Tequila and then go table-to-table adamantly delivering quick bursts of (bleach) tequila.
(Cleaning Liquids) Tequila + Ten Cent Chicken Wings equals:
Lindsay, after eating, I don't know, one gazillion wings, including: ‘so hot that they’ll slaughter your intestines placing them in a fiery grave only to force hair to grow on your eyeballs,’ and umpteen blasts of Jose Cleaning Fluid Flavoured Tequila. I woke in the middle of the night sweating profusely. You’d never guess what I saw. I opened my drapes—thousands of wingless birds were pecking at my windows. How do they know where I live? What was in the spray bottle? Save me!”
My first injury occurred while playing hockey with the football team back in University. I can't skate. I scored a goal. I administered a solid body check by fluke. I was feeling cocky. A two hundred fifty pound linebacker was skating full speed with his head down. Hot on his tail, a gigantic offensive lineman. I was planning to devastate him at centre ice. I skate ankles turned outward with the skates nearly parallel with the ice. At the last second, I determined what I was attempting to do was a bad idea. It was too late. Both of my knees slammed into the ice with the force of impact causing them to split downward.
The linebacker asked the lineman if he felt anything—did we just hit something? was his answer.
For the next three months, crutches were useless except for standing.
I managed to discard the crutches just in time for my first date with the enticingly gorgeously gorgeous, Gail.
She was a nationally ranked rhythmic gymnast. She was 23. She was in the last year of psychology at UBC. She was adopted. Her parents were Japanese. She was only part Japanese.
Her parents didn’t approve of us.
Her father refused to shake my hand.
Maybe the internment camps of WWII had something to do with his disapproval.