I previously mentioned something about about the Funnel Cup and whoever might accidentally read this thing probably won't care, but I feel the need to briefly summarize the events of that weekend. Kind of like making a mental sausage - all the floor scraps and body parts get hucked into the machine (my brain) and then come out as a consumable & even tasty little item.
This is the friggin awesome poster that my friend Ben made for said event. The Funnel Cup is an annual "hockey" tournament graciously hosted by my friend Lev at his cottage on Fairy lake, Huntsville Ontario. He and his friends created TFC years ago as a fine excuse to spend a weekend on the ice getting completely sideways, and as we became friends with Lev he invited my friends and I to join in. Now I use "quotes" around hockey because you're probly thinking about pond hockey with skates, gear etc. Due to the fact that very few of us come from an actual hockey background and doing anything on skates while quaffing copious amounts of beer is never a clever idea we stick to boots, sticks and jerseys. As pictured below.
Aside from that, it works much like you would think but with a few additions - yes, there are two teams, chosen in a draft on the Friday night of the weekend, play goes all day on Saturday, and of course there's a
trophy. Sunday is for feeling sore and shitty and possibly drinking more. The additives are what makes it extra special - a keg is placed on the ice and whenever a goal is scored a lucky volunteer on the scored-upon team has to do a funnel. (hence the name Funnel Cup - clever, no?) At random times the funnel will also include 1 or 2 shots out of a texas of whiskey just to keep things interesting. Play usually starts around 11am, when our collective hangover from the night before starts to kick in, & by the time dusk rolls across the lake everyone is working pretty hard to put proper sentences together, never mind maintain hockey-type balance on the ice. There have been serious injuries in the past requiring infrequent hospitalization but nothing crazy. Here's a short run down:
Friday: everyone made their way to Golden Pheasant Ice Dome (Lev's Cottage) where entry was gained by a)quaffing a 2 beer, 2 shot funnel, and b) donning any hockey jersey that fit. Beers flowed, sometimes down a tube. After everyone showed up and hit enough to be feeling pleasant, we attempted to cab into town for the traditional Team Draft at any drinking establishment that would grant entry to 15 or so drunk gentlemen wearing mismatching hockey jerseys. Here's where things went slightly awry - the first cab of people got into the prearranged Pub meeting spot no prob. However, when the 2nd larger cab load showed up at the door entry was denied on the logical basis of having waaay too many drunk dudes in hockey jerseys pour into an already packed pub. Thus, the group got split up with some of us staying at the Pub and getting more drunk and the other group going to The Cottage and also getting more drunk. A slippery time was had by all and Teams were drawn up in slurred drawl by Master Of Ceremonies Lev at some point during the night.
Having a chef at these kinds of times is a blessed thing, and while we were all settling into couches for more beer Dylan went to work on a pulled pork feast that left those that partook extremely full. Slightly lethargic but still somehow thirsty the night went downhill from here. The texas of whiskey was suddenly finished. Well, not gone, but had transformed itself from Whiskey to Trouble Soup somewhere inside us. Not realizing or caring how much we all looked and smelled like we'd spent the day pulling dog sleds at the Kearney Dogsled Races we oozed into cabs and headed for town - again. For reasons that were somehow made clear in a list available elsewhere, as everyone fell out of our rides in front of The Cottage & tripped towards the door I grabbed my beer & trudged through the snow back to my place. Sweatpants and all. After getting home and cracking beer #436 I came to convince myself that no matter what had happened throughout the day, and last night, I was simply not tired. And so I got on my text machine and ascertained that a section of the group feeling much like myself had absconded to Cory's hot tub, just across town. Tebby was one of them, and was definitely not ready for bed.
And so it ended up that along with Hughes & Katie, who were also feeling Saturday night frisky, I re-joined what was left of the group at Cory's house around 3am. Cory, being a gentleman, soon had everyone displacing many liters of H2O in the hot tub while we drained whatever was left of any alcohol that was crazy enough to hang around. Watching the sun rise from a hot tub is pretty much the best thing to see before going to bed, and that's exactly what we did.
Sunday morning is Hangover Cottage Cleaning time, which is the WORST unless you lightly grease the Wheels of Labour with...Beer. Clean up finished, good byes said, I left the cottage occupants to their afternoon Kurt Russell movie and headed into town. I stopped by Cory's briefly to make sure he was alive to find him and Tebby in Couch Comas after consuming what looked like a double family sized meal of Chinese, a stunning feat considering. I took a quick peek at the hot tub after which I got outta there as fast as possible. I occupied myself the rest of the day by drinking the boringness right out of The Most Dreadful Academy Awards Ever, which in retrospect may have not been the best idea. Looking back now it seemed like the most sensible thing to do - always does. I awoke Monday morning (barely) feeling like I had shaved 5 years off my life & was reduced to behaving like a drooling retard with a bag of wet sawdust for a brain. And thus went my week.
I was to find out that pretty much every Funnel Cup participant felt along the same lines, which made me feel a bit better and made us all realize we just polished off a simply amazing weekend.
2012 is going to be insane.
Happy Wednesday, and thanks for reading this far. Below - one of my favorite videos/tracks of all time.
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