Potter Party vs. Hockey Party

Shit! Its just f’n amazing how fast time flies by when you’re having fun. Ehh? Still involved with that new job search routine, but it doesn’t seem that anybody has a use for a little ole puckster like me. So I’m enjoying my time off instead. Kinda feel like a young pup again. Not a worry in the world (yeah, right, wtf). The honey and me drove over to a nearby town last night and caught one of those concerts in the park. It was some good shit and the beer as always was cold.

Yep. Another week’s gone by since my last bit of writing and Ms. Rowling’s released another Harry Potter book at midnight last night. Guess that’s her seventh story as compared to about thirty of my stories here at the blog. Kind wished I’d a met her back when she was poor and possibly was still a good looking bitch. Maybe we’d a made some time together or something. Anyway, I could sure use some of her income right now. I hear that she’s got more money than the Queen of England. Ain’t that something you guys?

This morning I see on the news how a bunch of these bookstores had “Potter Parties” last night with lots a the folks in costumes and all that make believe shit. Now I’ve got nothing against good fiction. Hell, you guys get a shit load of that here, ehh? And I gotta say that I’ve never, ever read one of the books or even seen one of the movies all the way through. But what the heck, I’ve seen enough to make some Wheats relevant comments here.

I’m kinda a nut for things bewitching, mysterious, fantasy and horror. And this Potter dude seems to be ok even though he’s not a puckhead. He’d probably been a pretty damn good one though if that’s the way Rowling woulda written it. You know ya see him flying around on his broom - he zigs when his pursuers zag and all that damn shit. I think he coulda put on some ding-dang good deaks and go top shelf easy. Whatta ya think about that? And that broom, it ain’t that damn much different then a durn good old wooden hockey stick. How many of you folks out there in your youth, didn’t pull that tripod trick where you squatted down and put your weight on your stick as you tucked it between your legs. Yeah, you were riding a broom, buster. Potter’s got the chick too. Nice! All in all I gotta say Harry is walking with wood.

Back to the “Potter Parties”. They remind me a lot of the hockey team’s Halloween parties. Shit if we didn’t get all duded up for those things. Dressed up like witches, wizards and warlocks. Monsters, whores and sexy little bunnies too. They started early and ya didn’t have to wait in no line before ya could get the party going. And they always lasted into the wee hours of the morning. We always had lots of liquor and plenty of cold beer. Well, never enough, someone always made a last beer run before the liquor store closed. Most a the time we had good eats cuz the ladies always liked to make a fuss about that stuff. Chips always worked for me or an occasional slice a pizza would do, but the girls always made it a bit better bringing lasagna, salads, deserts or something delish.

I remember one particular party that we had over to Damon’s. Damon was one hell of a burley sorta guy. He had played as forward up through Juniors and then there would occasional rotate through as de. When he came on board with us he was playing defense only and the first year or so he was my partner back there. He and couple of work buddies had rented a house over in the old part of town where the joints were well shaded under nice forty or fifty year old trees. Kinda quiet side of town but economical enough for him and his buds. It was a corner house with plenty of room for parking up and down both streets.

I can’t remember what disguise I was wearing that year - shit it doesn’t matter for the gist of the story so don’t worry about it, ehh, cuz I’m not going to. I’d been over to Damon’s few times before this party to watch video tapes. He was really into Friday night movies and beer if we didn’t have a game. But the night of this party the whole inside of his house had been stripped down. The only shit in the house was in the kitchen where there was still a table and couple of chairs, plus the fridge and stove. I don’t know, but maybe the guys were getting kicked out or leaving soon, but the place was bare. We all had to stand around but it made it better for dancin and shit.

The floor of the kitchen was a light/dark vinyl tile that was slippery when wet. With the keg in giant trash bag with bags of ice around it we were making one hell of a mess. Most of us slipped a couple a times, at least, and one time I saw Damon’s dog, a rowdy shepherd mix, come around the corner a bit too fast and slide out into the far wall. The whole time his nails scrappin like a mile a minute to get traction looking like some fool cartoon character.

Anyway, kudos to Damon for throwing the party. Yeah, guys, he’s walking with wood too.
We’re all shooting the shit and other bullcrap just getting totally krunk. Flirting, dancing, doing a little sqeezin and just generally all having a crazy ass time.

One of our teammate’s, Woody, was as usual having his share of beer. Good guy, always walking with wood. I had coached him when he was a Midget and after Juniors he came and skated with us. He’d been born in Scotland and raised as a young kid in Toronto. Was always fun to listen to his mom yell at him with that strong Scottish accent of hers during games. Woody wasn’t too tall but he’s a hell of good center. I believe he led the league two years in row for scoring. A little fire hydrant full of zip!

Yupper, full zip and that night of the party - full of beer. I’m sure that night in his boisterous lilt he led us in singing “Here’s to Brother Damon, Bother Damon …” and for sure in a round of “Mack the Knife”. Loves to sing that drunken fool!

Like I said he’s full of brewskies and full of shit. I’m standing there talking to him and he starts burping and clutching at his belly. I said to him “Ya alright dude?”

He says back “I think I better go outside for a bit and get some fresh air.”

He disappears for a while and comes back in and acts like he hasn’t missed a beat just looking a shit load better. I quiz him a bit and he tells me he just went out and threw-up so that he could keep drinking. No point in feeling sick, I guess, when there’s cold beer to chug.

After a certain point, Woody, always gets a bit obnoxious. Factual. No denying it - he just does. Hits the wall and he’s beyond shitfaced. That night was no different.

So what you do with a belligerent drunk that’s on the verge of passing out? Well, you take him outside and saran-wrap him to one of those fine shade trees in Damon’s front yard. And that’s zactly what we did. Fool never even knew what happened too him. Eventually someone took him down, yeah, poured him into a vehicle and took him home.

Yes-sirree, nothing like a kick-ass hockey Halloween party. I betcha that none of those “Potter Parties” last night were as good as one of these.

Later, my friends.

Jasper here, krankin from the backwoods telling ya to skate hard.