I'm so exhausted right now. Hangin' out in the basement of my friend, Jeri's, house with my friends, Dannle and Tairn*, listening to poorly buffered songs on Youtube.
In spite of all the forecasts to the contrary, we did not get 16 cm of snow in The County on Friday. My kids were pissed. So far, no snow days for any high school students in 2010-2011. But, it was good for me cos I have been planning a trip to Arnprior for a few months. Just a weekend visit to Jeri's house and an excursion to Calabogie Peaks for "tubing".Now, I've never been tubing before, but I assumed it was like tobogganning and I was really looking forward to it. That is, until people started telling me how dangerous it is! A girl at work told me your head shakes all around and bangs onto the ice when you fall out of the tube. Someone else told me they knew a guy who dislocated his shoulder while drinking and tubing. These stories got me thinking, "I need a helmet".
I left for Jeri's house after working at the Waring House until 3 p.m. I tried to enter "Spruce Street, Arnprior" into my GPS, but the only thing that came up was "Sprice Crescent".
Close enough.
I was off in the Soul with a six pack, a half a bottle of wine, my new Columbia Omni-Heat jacket, red snow pants and a box of Always Infinicel (sarcastic "yay"). Did I mention, gas was $1.19 a litre? WTF?
I was driving down Highway 49 when Def Leppard's "Poor Some Sugar on Me" came on the radio. Now, there is a line in that song in which I am convinced that Mutt Lange had some kind of vision of the future. The song was written in 1986 and yet Joe Elliott clearly sings, "Livin' like a lover with a red iPhone." How did they know about iPhones in the 80s? Hmmm? Tell me that's not creepy!
Anyway, I expected the GPS would take me east on the 401, north on the 416, and west on the 417 to Arnprior, but instead I exited in Odessa. (?) Although confused, I decided, "What the hell. Might as well have an adventure." Surely, the GPS can't get me lost in my own province like it did when I drove to Florida last year. It wasn't long before I was driving through Maberly and making a right onto Bennett Lake Road. FUCKING GPS!So, I'm driving down a dirt road (now covered in snow and ice) in February, at night, listening to The Who's "Teenage Wasteland" with no goddamn clue where I am headed. All I know is the people in this corner of the province really like their pancakes; Friggin' pancake houses around every corner, but nowhere to buy a damn map.
Fortunately, my GPS managed to get me to my destination on time, although I am convinced my particular contraption has an extra digital chromosome. I rang the doorbell and I heard everyone scream my name from inside. That's a great feeling - hearing your longtime friends verbalize their excitement for your arrival. Especially when you aren't sure if "Sprice Crescent" is the same as "Spruce Street" in the real world.
I had two beers in 20 minutes, I met Jeri's family, we rocked out to Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls", and then we got out the Wii. We started with Michael Jackson The Experience for a warm up. After a while, Jeri's neighbourhood started showing up, including her hairdresser and a nurse. I just cannot express to you how crazy this party was. At one point, two people were up dancing while five of the rest of us were doing synchronized speed skating to a techno version of "Satisfaction" while sitting on the couch. Nobody knew anyone else's name - Lessia (or was it Crystal?) was calling Karen by my name; I was convinced Kim's name was Pam. But, it really didn't matter cos we were all getting liquored and making fun of one another's funky dance moves.
Karen and I were totally calling each other out because I am clearly the better dancer whether or not I can shake my ass like Beyonce to Crazy in Love or not. Then, Kelly the hairdresser took a turn and suddenly neither of us could win a round... so, I hip-checked the bitch and knocked her to the hardwood floor! Nobody puts Sherla in a corner! lol.
We shut it down around 1 a.m., which is pretty early for Dannle and Tairn and I, but we were all pretty exhausted and everyone else was going home to vomit (Lightweights... sheesh). The girls and I bunked down in the basement on a couple of foam mattresses and a futon. It was just like the old days, which is awesome! I don't remember much after my head hit the pillow. That is, not until I started dreaming that some guy was chasing me with a chainsaw. The chainsaw kept making the same annoying sound, which was pissing me off more than scaring me. That's when I realized Dannle was snoring. I kept wishing she would just roll over, but she didn't. I had to get up, shake her and tell her to roll over. She didn't roll over, but at least the snoring stopped... for a little while. I had to get up once more in the night and threaten her with physical violence, although she doesn't remember anything.
The next morning, we headed for Calabogie Peaks, which is a 30 minute drive from Arnprior. Dannle was dressed in a one-piece, denim snowsuit with reflective tape on the arms and back. I wore a Firefly helmet on loan from Jeri. On the drive, I discovered that my snow pants had zippered vents on the sides, which got me to thinking that I'd rather have crotch vents. I mean, that's where I could really use some fresh air, especially at this time of the month when my underwear looks like a crime scene (I loved that line from "No Strings Attached". You should totally go see that movie). Anyway, I mentioned this brilliant idea for crotch vents to the rest of my friends in the car and I found it so incredibly funny, I laughed at myself for about 5 minutes. Clearly, I did not get enough sleep. Meanwhile, Jeri kept her hungover head out the passenger window so as not to blow chunks in the Vibe. ACDC's "Highway to Hell" was playing on the radio, no jokes.
We arrived at the hills around noon. Picture three, 30-something women standing in the sunshine near the chalet, tapping their boots to The Rolling Stones, which is being blasted from the sound system, while we take turns applying Chapstick. We must have looked soooooo frickin' cool.You know, it only cost $10 each to go tubing all day? That's awesome! I thought I'd be looking at about $40. Ten bucks cannot be beat for unlimited leisurely lifts on a human conveyor belt to the top of an icy slope with your own bouncy inner tube. I didn't want to go down as a group on the first run, but I didn't want to be a party pooper either, so we each grabbed one another's tube handles while the two little girls in charge of the tubing hill tried to lug our asses to the edge and push us over. Well, the first big drop started my gag reflex and the second big drop definitely brought a bit of bile to the back of my throat. But, having said that, I couldn't wait to go back up and do it again.
We went down twice before we decided to get some poutine to settle our stomachs.We ate outside on the patio in the sunshine, but poutine gets cold very quickly in -11 weather. Being outside also made us all very sleepy, so we didn't stay too much longer.
On one of our last runs, I noticed these two little brats (girls, about 7 or 8 years old) kicking and throwing snow into Dannle and Tairns tubes. There's a bottom on the tube so if snow gets inside, it will make your ass wet when you sit down. I told the little bastards to smarten up and they laughed. Then, Dannle turned around and, seeing what they were doing, she said, "Hey!" Then, promptly kicked a big blast of man-made snow into their faces. Serves them right, I say.
We were all piling into the car when I finally removed my helmet. I was the only one at Calabogie wearing one anyway and it really wasn't necessary. So, I took it off and stepped into the back of the Vibe. That's when the zipper on the left side vent of my red snowpants got caught on the door of the car. I was just trying to detach myself when Mark started to drive away! I was laughing too hard to protest, but Dannle and Tairn were both trying to get him to stop while I hopped along beside the car - helmet still dangling from my right arm. Just when you think it's safe to take off your protective headgear...
Props to Jeri's husband, Mark, though, who not only cooked us breakfast and dinner all weekend, but also refilled our drinks, entertained us with his dancing skills, drove us to Calabogie and held my purse while we had fun all day.
* See my blog on Snowstorms for more information about D&T
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