Victory Sunday

was yesterday. Crashed an old friend’s significant other’s mothuh’s company party and cleaned up. Placed 3^rd in the egg toss, 4^th in ping pong (damn that backward paddle holdn Feng!), 2^nd in the 3 legged race, 3^rd in the water balloon toss, reached the semi finals in 3 on 3 basketball and Won the canoe race. Granted I was usually in the 11 year old and up category, which may or may not of been the seemingly advantage one might suspect as my teammates weren’t always all the way through puberty.

Worth retelling is the canoe. Andrew, my approximately 12 year ol’ partner, and I easily took the 1^st heat. & probably were fortunate not to be in the next heat as there were a couple steroid lookin marines who really wanted a trophy but overshot the turnaround bouy allowing a couple feisty college students to sneak in for the finale.

So game on, the fiesties an’ us. At the bullhorn we got off the shore and turned around quicker but while dodging an oncomer, did some bushwacking. Paddle Paddle Paddle I yelled at Andrew when he paused to push branches away. What was looking dismal may of worked to our advantage as I flashbacked back to my days on the Mediterranean and began a Venetian luge style gondola paddle off the rooty bottom to get our battle sled back slicing up lake.

Damn fiesties got a lead on us but were taking the turn around the lake middle buoy wide. Andrew and I dipped our heads and paddled like piranhas whilist I aimed our canoe straight fer their bow and Pow! We took ‘em hard and bounced them back pointing nor-verds &rebounded our metal hell wagon halfway back around. Andrew nearly fell out of the boat, my knees are all scraped up from lurching forward but I keep paddling.

Then the nervy feisties grab the side of our boat and start hand over handing up our side so I begin to try and rub them out by sandwiching them up against the shore. Andrew’s swinging his paddle while I’m paddling with one hand starboard and grabbing them port freezing our nose about a foot ahead of theirs. They start screaming leggo, so soon as they do; I send ‘em backward with a seeya suckahs with an admittedly cheap, though great, shove; to get our canoe back on the sluice. It was ciao ciao sianora adios from there, beating down on us though they were, A & I took the checkered flag with a crash when we hit drainpipe on the shore that sent us both kinder over bean. Fore I was not the only “adult” bending the rules.

What were we talking about here, food? Yo, has anybody been to Holiday Hill? It’s just up the road, toward Bethany & I can only say: it really is the epitome of summer, in a day. o_ & did I mention not to mention paint a pumpkin, mini golf or homerun derby? Yup, they got it. & clowns. As fore eats, this boy hit the potato salad, carrot sticks, New Angland clam chowdah, several corn on the cobs, many clams on a half shell, several liters of soda and approximately 3 ice cream Sundays, (move ovah Phelps). Trailed that with some can-openers into the pool and some dance floor shimmy shimmy yo’s during a feverish electric slide plus a new one. Anyone herd of the chicken noodle soup?

My only regret was that I didn’t get to go on a pony ride.