:: A Facebook sequel ::

I don't have many vivid memories of high school. No parties I can particularly remember, not many crazy antics, save for a few. High school, to me, is five years melted into one long experience, with days and events, and arguments and people, all overlapping.

I hated high school, nearly from the first day in Grade 8 until halfway through Grade 12, when things finally got a little bit fun at the new school I was at. And because I hated it, I think that's probably why all my memories just blur into one. Kind of the same way people can't remember details of traumatic experiences, or something.

I don't even have a single picture from high school - not of any of my friends, or events...no nothing. And I'm OK with that.

But there are still a few things I can clearly remember - first and foremost being Spring Break in Grade 11. That was the week that my parents and Chris went somewhere for a hockey tournament - I think the Okanagan. So I stayed home by myself, and my friend Jay stayed with me.

Since I had the whole house to myself, I remember it basically being a clubhouse for me, Jay, and three of our friends - Trevor, Steve, and Paul. I don't remember exactly what we did for seven days, but I know we must've got drunk at least a few times, and the weather was really nice, so we played a lot of tennis too...all of us cramming into my dad's Hyundai Sonata and driving to the high school, with the same CD playing over and over and over and over - Collective Soul's self titled album (the light blue one). I still cannot, to this day, hear a song from that album without thinking of that week.

Not too long after that week, Jay and his dog Digby ended up living with us. His parents had been split up for a number of years, and each had their own things to deal with. This way was just easier. And so it was...

Then, midway through Grade 12, Jay left and I lost touch with all those "spring break" friends I mentioned earlier. There was some ugliness there, but being that it was almost a decade ago, I don't remember specifics. Probably for the best.

And then came Facebook. I decided one night that, in an attempt to see how many friends I could add to my list, I'd start searching for random old friends from elementary school, high school, hockey - whoever I could think of. I found a few, but not too many - there's a ton of people I just can't remember, too. But then there was Jason.

Still looked the same, but with shorter hair and a goatee. When I showed Chris, he had to look twice and say "Is that actually him?" but there really was no question. He hadn't change much in that span, and I guess I haven't either, because Jay told me as much on Wednesday when we went out for beers and wings.

I've written about reunions with high school buddies before, but this was still different. Partly because we used to live 20 feet away from each other, partly because he was quite literally part of our family, and partly because it ended strangely.

Ever since we first starting talking again, I surprised myself by how quickly and easily I forgot about all the past stuff - I didn't even make a conscience effort to let it go, I just did. I'll admit to being bitter sometimes, and holding a grudge easily. This particular case hurt, and I was pissed for a long time. Even after I found Jay on Facebook last week, there was still something there. I didn't click "add as friend" and send him a message until a day after I saw his name because I didn't know what to expect.

But after one message back and forth, it all just...left. All was fine again. In fact, we never even mentioned any of the bullshit; we just picked up where we left off, before it all got weird and we both disappeared.

In previous instances where I've ended up meeting or talking with old friends, I - like most people in similar situations - have usually spent the majority of the time re-hashing past stories, laughing at old jokes, and inflating how truly awesome you were "back in the day." But on Wednesday, we really didn't do that. Sure, we got some of the basics out of the way regarding the last eight years - he's married now, I went away for school and work for awhile, his family's OK, mine's good too - but we didn't spend a lot of time reminiscing.

We lost eight years, but what's done is done.

Instead, we just hung out - laughing our balls off, and generally living in the now I guess you could say. We've hung out three times in the last five days, which is more often than I see many of my other friends. And I was thinking tonight that, as much as I love the friends I've had for the past decade, I really didn't miss 'em that much this weekend. I just had a good time doing other things.

And next weekend, at a party, we're also going to reconnect with the rest of the ol' team. Should be pretty awesome.

As much fun as I always have with anyone else, this weekend so far has been pretty hard to top. I know, it probably seems like with all these reunions that I'm living in the past, when most of these types of things are little more than a novelty act - you seen the person or people a few times, but then life returns to normal soon after, because when you're set in your lifestyle it is tough to turn back the clock.

But I don't think we'll have that problem, and like I said, this weekend was a pretty good time, so far. I guess it's just nice to know that, even though you might not've seen someone for a really long time, you're still free to act like a complete nerd, and you don't have to worry about who's in a mood and who's not. Or you can tell a bad joke without being mocked; and you don't need to care about whether it's acceptable or not in some eyes if you didn't get your passport photo stamped yourself.

But mostly, after 2,920 days wondering "Hmmm, I wonder what happened to that guy?", it's just nice to have another best friend back.

:: Playing catch-up ::

I was going to write one of those "sorry for never posting" messages until I realized one thing: I'm not sorry. Not sorry at all. The way I figure it, you'll get the pleasure of reading a post when I'm damn well good and ready to give it to ya.

And I'm ready....now.

So, we've got some catchin' up to do, I suppose. I had half a post written from the long weekend, but most of the stuff I wrote has since become a moo point (You know, like a cow's opinion..it's not important). But let us first relive some of the more quotable moments of the past few weeks.

"That's as naked as I've ever been." - Sean, after being stripped of all his clothes and thrown into Lambie's front yard in the post-UFC mayhem a couple weekends ago.

"At first when you guys jumped me I thought you were just gonna shove something in my ass, and I was like 'OK, that's fine I guess,' but then you took all my clothes instead!" - Sean's twisted thought process as the above-mentioned deed took place.

"Quit being so bleedy!" - Lambie, as he attacked poor beer and blood-soaked Sean, who was flailing away on the floor.

"Beer. It's what's for breakfast." - Buchs

"I'd fight Snoop Dogg. What's he gonna do, gin and juice me?" - Buchs, after a few of those 'breakfast beers'.

"It's not funny but it's hilarious." - Jer, commenting on Buch's retardedness, which resulting in A-Scrams being pretty angry.

Amanda: I want a teleport.
Ian: You want a tadpole?

"They should make a steak cologne." - Bucholtz

Well, the last few weeks have been fairly eventful. I can tell because it doesn't feel like I've been home much at all the past three weeks. I work, I go someplace, I come home late, and go to bed. Rinse, lather, repeat. I'm not complaining, but it just seems like this is one of the few weekday nights where I've had both the time and energy to write anything.

A couple weekends ago, if you couldn't already tell from the quotes, many of us - mostly Sean - became intoxicated. Sean, on a $5 bet, stuck his balls into quickly whirrling fan blades, which obviously caused him to hit the deck pretty hard. Five minutes later, he decided sticking his nose into the same fan was a smart idea.

Guess what? It wasn't. You see, when slim blades made of hard plastic, metal, or any other solid material are set at speeds in which you can no longer tell one individual blade from the other, whatever comes into contact with said blades is likely to be caused some undue strain. It's like when you used to throw your Grade 9 math textbook into the ceiling fan, just to see what would happen. What happens is you get calculus everywhere.

Lesson learned, Seany. Lesson learned.

This past weekend, while other people were at stag parties or Nintendo nights or UFC TV events, I was back in Kamloops for the first time in what seemed like 100 years. In reality, it was only about two and a half or so, but still too long. Quite a bit had changed - people now hung out with people I didn't know, the Burger King near my old house was now a Tim Horton's, and an entire new uber-large strip mall had sprung up on what's basically one large median between some major thru-ways. Very odd.

Some things, however, don't change. The pulp mill still stinks - something I'd forgotten about, but was reminded of at nearly the exact same time the "Welcome to Kamloops" sign came into view from the highway - and also, Sifton Ave. is still a formidable foe. One day, however, me, Mike and Shaun will have our revenge.

We just need a better plan. (And a shovel, ahead of time)

Friday evening was spent at Meghan's, drinking a few beers with her and Lorne, before we headed to a very crowded, very hot, Central Station Pub, where I proceeded to a) spill beer on my jeans and b) drink six beers and a caesar but somehow only get charged $13 for three beers. Still not as good a deal as Al though, who downed a couple double paralyzers before just walking out, apparently completely oblivious.

So we did that. And then me, Shaun and Mike drove around for quite awhile (see aforementioned failed plan) before Shaun went home to sleep, and me and Mike hit up some 7-Eleven hotdogs which the slurpee jockey informed us were anywhere from 2 hours to four days old. We took our chances anyway. We killed some more time, before the night basically ended, and boy did it ever end in (insert sarcasm here) fine fashion for me.

The night was mercifully ended at 3:15 a.m. after a loooooooooooong, painstaking conversation with Meghan's otherwise delightful two friends, who spent two hours - two fucking hours - talking about cats. The next day, when explaining what happened to Mike and Shaun, I was actually incapable of words, such was the rage and bafflement that had built inside me. Ask 'em, they'll tell you. It was a tough one.

Nevertheless, on Saturday - refueled after some coffee, Ricky's breakfast, and a solid nap - we eventually got the ball rolling again. Some people went to Earl's for dinner, but me, Mike and Shaun instead went to White Spot, where the TV viewing was far superior to watch the Canucks' Game 6. We said we'd show up at Earl's after the first period, but that was before we were informed that not only did Earl's have worse TV locations, but in fact no TVs we could see at all. So we eventually rolled in around 7:45. Nobody seemed to really miss us anyhow, so that was good.

The Earl's experience was ended with one giant beer each, and this from Shaun:

"I'm having fun, if fun means the opposite of fun."

So rather than hit up the pre-drinking/Blue Grotto, the three of us crashed a work-related conference (for a different division) at a downtown hotel, where we met up with Al, Ken, Melissa, and briefly, Tara. It was an open bar so it turned to a pretty solid night. Near the end, the little makeshift bar actually ran out of beer.

Hooray for us.

So that, in a nutshell, was my long-winded Kamloops experience. I left Sunday after attempting to throw a sponge soccer ball at Mike's car from mine (they'd previously chucked it at me), but it turns out you have a better chance to hit them if you roll your own window down first. Rookie mistake, but it nearly caused Mike and Shaun to laugh so hard they nearly drove of the road, so at least there's that.

Oh, and if the weekend wasn't success enough, Shaun - former video store warehouse employee - gave me a lifesized, lighted Superman Returns standup. I haven't taken it out of the box yet, but I can only imagine its awesomness.

This week: Tonight we had softball, kicking the ever-loving shit out of some team of poor saps, 16-2. Tomorrow and Friday are Games 1-2 of the Nucks and Ducks series, and Saturday is my all-fucking-day-long conference at an airport hotel. It's the same exact thing I crashed Saturday night while in Kamloops, only that I'll have to sit through 10 hours of workshops before the drinking can begin.

But hey, it's another open bar.