So today's post is not about hockey. Every now and then I will have a non sports related post. This post is because I didn't watch any sports this weekend. I was too busy partying like a rock star deep in the bowels of Toronto, getting covered in space jizz at a Gwar show.
We had a large group of us going, 8 or 9 of us, I can't count, so that figure is speculative at best. Anyway we decided to all chip in for a Limo, and man, what a great idea it turned out to be. The driver, Sammy, was a cool as fuck dude. I was a little worried about drinking before getting in the limo for the exact reason that transpired, which was bladder control.
About half way through the journey the first rumblings of the old piss factory started to make its displeasure known, but it wasn't just me, it was EVERYONE! In some diabolical synchronization of misery, we all made our discomfort aware to each other, which came off more like a bunch of old dudes with bum prostates complaining about it.
The problem however was the fact we were stuck in traffic on the 401 among the many heading into the city to do what ever it is one does on a Saturday night in October. With no relief in sight, the first victim fell. It was one of the two ladies that were with us. She made it very clear that she could not hold it any longer, and was convinced by lady number 2 that the only solution was to pee in a cup. Much to my dismay, I was seated next to her.
After some maneuvering that erected a makeshift wall of people to create some privacy for her, she got the job done, and out the window, a fresh brewed cup of urine sailed through the air. Piss bombs are not just for truckers anymore. A few minutes later, following lady number 1's lead, lady number 2 decided to do the old cup trick as well. 2 down, 6 more bladders to go.
A few Km down the road, we got to an over pass. The Limo had stopped, and my buddy sitting next to the door took the opportunity to hop out of the car and run for the wall. The Limo began to move, leaving him behind. Someone alerted Sammy to the situation, and he stopped to allow my friend to get back in, but another one of the group had a better idea. He, like a great general, ordered us all out for for a blitzkrieg assault of mass bladder relief.
So now all six of us file out and run behind this wall. A line of satisfaction saturated the concrete and grass. It was on the way back to the car that I noticed we were still on the 401, and now we were causing a bit of a traffic jam. Oops.
Now with empty bladders, we continued our Journey without incident.
We got to to the Opera House, and there was a ton of Zombies in the lineup. I was not aware of the Zombie Walk that was held in the city that night. There were some pretty cool looking costumes. I wish I had the brains to take some pictures.
There were 2 or 3 opening acts, I can't really remember too well, as they all bored me to death, so I spent most of that time outside smoking with various Zombies.
Gwar finally got on about 10, and right out the gate, Lead singer Oderus Urungus decapitated two poor zombies that were slowly walking around the stage. Ahh, good times. We stayed in the balcony part of the Opera House for most of the show until, for me, my evil bladder came back to haunt me. I had no choice but to make use of the facilities.
This brings me up to one of my many pet peeves, and that is fucking bathroom attendants. Why do places have these fucking people? I guess to discourage drug use in the bathrooms? Either way, I hate it with a passion. It is always black guys too. I am not sure why that is, but it doesn't seem right to me, but I digress.
The fact is it make people uncomfortable. I don't want some dude running the tap for me,and giving me soap and shit. I wanna go in, do my business, and get out. I do not want to feel like I have to tip some guy every time I tinkle. I know these poor bastards are just doing their jobs, so I can't fault them in anyways, but it is set up to make you feel like an asshole no matter what. If you allow the guy to do his job and you don't tip, you look like a schmuck, and if you do like I do and run past them to the sink furthest away, you look like a schmuck, and if you do tip, then you are a sucker for paying for something you didn't want in the first place. There is no winners here.
After my trip to the men's room, I decided to take my chances in the PIT. That was an adventure on its own, but I was good and drunk, and ready for the challenge. I was only able to get so far before it got too crazy for me to handle in my state, but I was still in range for one of the many cannons, decapitated heads, and Oderus's penis, which all shoot different coloured water onto the crowd. I must say, with the dank heat of a 1000 humans in close proximity, the cool water was a nice feeling.
I didn't notice until the next morning, when I awoke in my clothes on my buddy's couch that my pants and everything else I had on was stained in many colours. Good times indeed. That shit went through my pants, staining my legs too. My face was orange, and looked like I had one of those fake New Jersey tans.
After the Show, we all piled into the Limo, and mellowed out on the way home. It was pretty uneventful until one of my friends, the very same one that hopped out of the limo on the way to the show, had to vomit out the door of the car as we sped down the highway.
The night ended with an pizza being ordered, and passing out shortly after it arrived. Seeing this was our 3rd time going to see Gwar in the last 3 years, I am sure this whole story will take place again next year.
Well that is all for now, next time it is back to Hockey.
Till then....
Stay angry!
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