Right. So Otis and I got invited to spin at a kegger in Guleph. (Shouts going out to the two best looking boys in attendance - Jeffsus and Soulheaven, it was wickeed chillin' with you two, no bullshit...). The party had its moments - Otis battling it out with Everfresh, a longtime Liquid Adrenaline jungle king and Rob's rolemodel, was one of them, as were the little riots errupting in the kitchen (aka "the side dancefloor") whenever a big tune hit the dex etc... One other moment that will stick in my mind beyond next tuesday went something this:
A friend of mine is in a dire need of herbal ehancement but doesn't want to smoke all by his lonesome. This being my girl's b-day and all, and her wanting in, I reluctantly agree to roll up and have a break from my substance celibacy. We go out to the enclosed balcony, where two industrial flame heaters are doing their damnest to beat the -10 outside. Yaddy-yaddy-yadda, the spliff turns to a roach and a slightly sloshed dude in shorts and a hawaiian shirt shows up asking for the funny ciggarette. I pull two more tokes and hand it to my girl so she can pass it to the seemingly jonesing wanker. Before she has a chance to do so, he's almost in my face with this little line:
"Hey buddy, I live here and I'm a police officer - put that out or leave!"
I look him straight in the eye and wait for him to flinch, but he doesn't...
WHAT. DE. FUK.
The news is slowly sinking in and I can now clearly recognize the "restless pig" look on his face. "'Cause I'm de OPP, yeah you know me!" I pull two more tokes and put out the joint as he turns around and disappears into the crowd.
Later on I go up to talk to him, and all he says is that he can't have "that stuff" in his house. The question still remains:
WHAT. DE. FUK?
As Otis was quick to point out, the fucker was running an illegal boozecan violating a variety of fire safety codes (including a flame heater indoors and about a 100 people in the place) but he can't have "that stuff" in his house? I make a trek from TO in order to do a friend a favour and I can't have a wee spliff as my only "reward" that night?
In the words of the mighty minister, "C'mon, FUK DAT! FUK DAT MANY A TIME!"
Needless to say, this one is going into the books as my first house party "bust", my umptinth close call with a criminal record I so stealthily avoided all these years and one of the most bizzare happenings in a long time. Which could have been easily avoided had my friends the sense to let me in on "the news"... In all fairness, all of my many, many run-ins with da Police have always ended well, so I'm not really complaining, but I felt like sharing that ^^^ with y'all, so there...
A friend of mine is in a dire need of herbal ehancement but doesn't want to smoke all by his lonesome. This being my girl's b-day and all, and her wanting in, I reluctantly agree to roll up and have a break from my substance celibacy. We go out to the enclosed balcony, where two industrial flame heaters are doing their damnest to beat the -10 outside. Yaddy-yaddy-yadda, the spliff turns to a roach and a slightly sloshed dude in shorts and a hawaiian shirt shows up asking for the funny ciggarette. I pull two more tokes and hand it to my girl so she can pass it to the seemingly jonesing wanker. Before she has a chance to do so, he's almost in my face with this little line:
"Hey buddy, I live here and I'm a police officer - put that out or leave!"
I look him straight in the eye and wait for him to flinch, but he doesn't...
WHAT. DE. FUK.
The news is slowly sinking in and I can now clearly recognize the "restless pig" look on his face. "'Cause I'm de OPP, yeah you know me!" I pull two more tokes and put out the joint as he turns around and disappears into the crowd.
Later on I go up to talk to him, and all he says is that he can't have "that stuff" in his house. The question still remains:
WHAT. DE. FUK?
As Otis was quick to point out, the fucker was running an illegal boozecan violating a variety of fire safety codes (including a flame heater indoors and about a 100 people in the place) but he can't have "that stuff" in his house? I make a trek from TO in order to do a friend a favour and I can't have a wee spliff as my only "reward" that night?
In the words of the mighty minister, "C'mon, FUK DAT! FUK DAT MANY A TIME!"
Needless to say, this one is going into the books as my first house party "bust", my umptinth close call with a criminal record I so stealthily avoided all these years and one of the most bizzare happenings in a long time. Which could have been easily avoided had my friends the sense to let me in on "the news"... In all fairness, all of my many, many run-ins with da Police have always ended well, so I'm not really complaining, but I felt like sharing that ^^^ with y'all, so there...
