Left the party after an hour. Some fucking guy, as well as other stuff. Aaron, Karen, Drew and I all bailed at the same time.

It’s too bad, I was hoping to hang out with Christine more, or even talk to Sheri, Emily, Eric, or Katrina a bit. I was expecting to be home past two, but instead I was home before midnight.

I didn’t even bring any alcohol because I didn’t feel like drinking, but after five minutes I was stealing Aaron’s wine.

On Saturday we ended up at the Highlander Pub, apparently the only place in the city to get good haggis, as a belated birthday celebration for Aaron. We convinced the manager, a black man in a kilt with a brow bar, to give us three tables. We took part in the homeland toast, in which the waitresses hand out free shots of scotch every day at nine and everyone drinks to the ring of a bell.

Trolley, Nick, and Aaron participated in some speed drinking competitions. None of us are heavy drinkers; rather, we’re on the heavy side of casual drinkers, so being able to down a mug as quickly as this was worthy of a OMGDIDYOUSEETHATWHERESMYPROPS?!?

Spent the weekend at Trolley’s house with Wheaties, Aaron, and Nick. The car ride took about three hours, squeezed into the back of his compact Jetta. I would have called shotgun but I doubt anyone would have respected it; Nick and Aaron had priority as the biggest guys. I made a playlist for the ride there, and it was good for the first half. The problem with such playlists is that they’re usually meant for summer in the open air, not night time winter rides. A lot of songs end up being inappropriate.

Trolley’s place is a 350 acre farm, on a long road that’s actually named after his family. Definitely a place with personality and an amazing view of the open countryside. Heat is turned up by throwing more logs in the furnace. His cat Femo is more vocal than Dolly and always cries for attention. She’ll quickly turn belly up if you scratch her the right way, and doesn’t like to wander more than an arms-length away.

The first party was at the cabin, which is a small hunting lodge a 10 minute walk away, also owned by the Trolley’s. That’s when I remembered that I’m really bad at parties with lots of drunk people. Drunk people who I don’t know scare me. A lot. I never know what the hell they’re going to do. At one point, two people put on boxing gloves and started beating the shit out of each other in this tiny cabin, which must be about 196 square feet. The second party was at the house, and much lower key. People started jumping into the hot tub and out the window then rolling around in the snow. I didn’t drink the first day (aside from a swig from a bottle of Fireball, which actually isn’t bad), but ended up buying some alcohol for the next.

One of the days was spent on a hill on some private property. We set up a jump to do some freestyle board riding, and broke out the modified GT Snowracers and toboggans.

A great time.

I met a woman last week who had the Majesty symbol tattooed to the back of her neck, which is totally fucking awesome. When she found out that I recognized it as the Dream Theater logo she gave a look of surprise, I’m guessing since listening to Dream Theater is consider somewhat esoteric, liking them can be seen as an eccentricity, and even some Dream Theater fans don’t know of such a subtle symbol. It turns out that she’s in a cover band, and even though the set list doesn’t seem to include anything as insane as Home or Dance of Eternity, it’s still amazing that there are people who are willing to attempt such music. She’s playing a concert tonight at Barrymore’s, with a Dream Theater tribute band and a Tool tribute band. It promises to be a good night of progressive metal/rock and I had my heart set on going, until I found out that there’s also a party tonight at Sheri/Emily/Christine’s place. I’m tempted to go to both, but I think I’d rather focus on one instead of spreading myself thin. Besides, it’s to celebrate the birthdays of three good people, and I wouldn’t want to miss it this year. No alcohol tonight, I’ve decided, and no chance for me in stiffing Tom with a bill (as I mistakenly did last year at the Clocktower).

This has been the busiest weekend EVAR. It’s been the first time that I was too busy to write an entry. I mean, I usually make time to write, with the same priority as showering and eating, but yesterday I only had time for two of the three.

Friday was all running errands and watching Return of the King (which was alright). Much to my surprise, Aaron, Trolley, Wheaties, and Nick all chipped in and bought me Double Dash, which we promptly played until five in the morning. I woke up with just enough time to get to practice (although it was only four hours of sleep), played for two hours, then came back home and slept some more.

By the time I was awake, it was time for Aaron’s pot luck. I had a chance to meet Chris, Mel’s boyfriend, who’s a fucking great guy to hang out with. Of note were Jen’s potatoes, which must have been the most flavourful I’ve ever tasted. I brought about three dozen of the Bailey’s truffles I made, which were well received and gone in five minutes.

I got back around two in the morning, collapsed on my bed, and here I am now, groggy and hungry. In half an hour I have a ride to the first matches of the newly formed city-wide table tennis league. I’ll be playing for about five hours in rotation, varying between singles and doubles matches. I expect to be one of the worst player there, which means that I’ll probably gain a lot of play experience.

I still need to start an economics assignment and watch an accounting tape, both of which were supposed to be done on Friday. Today might just be another total write-off.