Written by Scotsman on April 28, 2008

As the year 2008 approaches its halfway point, I can’t help but stop and think about the events I’ve experienced over the last few months that will remain my memory forever. There’s been good moments, like watching my daugther crawl for the first time. There’s been bad moments, like witnessing my son getting into his first serious accident requiring stitches. And there’s been great moments, like the one week banning of juices_world.

There’s also been horrific moments. Moments that I can’t bear to think about without breaking into a sweat, wondering why God had decided to punish me by forcing me to experience these.

And one of those was the weekend of February 1st through 3rd.

This was going to be the perfect weekend for me. It’d start with a Lakers/Raptors game on the Friday. Saturday would be Brock Lesnars UFC debut as he destroyed Frank Mir on the first chapter of his road to UFC domination. And it would all end on Sunday, with a team I’ve been a life-long fan of, the New England Patriots finishing off the perfect season with a victory over the New York Giants.

Unfortunately, the weekend didn’t go as planned. The New England Patriots crumbled thanks to an injured Tom Brady, who practically got out his deathbed to play. Saturday saw Lesnar get caught in a kneebar by Frank Mir, handing him humiliation in his first match. And then there was the Friday. Lakers. Raptors. My team won, but that was overshadowed by another event. An event so horrific, I’ll tell it to my kids when we’re telling scary stories. An event so evil and twisted, Stephen King would have a hard time putting it into words. An event so scary, that I’ve put off writing about it until months later. Yeah – that’s it. I was too scared to write it. That’s why its taken so long.

I am of course talking about…..

…..a road trip, with Toptenguy.

I guess at this point I should preface this by saying it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t pull the car to the side of the road and start fondling my balls or anything. But christ – I was stuck with this guy in a car for hours on end – and he’s a sweaty Frenchman – it wasn’t exactly a trip to fucking paradise. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Anyway, two months prior, Toptenguy posted on the NPP Forums that he’d bought two tickets to the Lakers/Raptors game, and asked if I wanted to go. Lakers being my favourite NBA team, I accepted. I didn’t even need to make my own way to Toronto – Toptenguy offered to drive me the whole way. What a sweet guy. Creepy. But sweet. I assumed that he was driving in to Toronto, and would be driving past Kingston so would pick me up. Incorrect. He actually drove into Toronto 2 days prior, then drove back to Kingston(4 hours on a good day), to drive me to Toronto….then to drive me home again later, before going back to Toronto.

Did I mention creepy yet?

However things didn’t go as planned. We were set to leave the Friday about 10am. I woke up to find that it was a blizzard outside. The weather was so bad that local businesses were closing up for the day and sending their employees home. The radio was telling everyone not to leave their houses, and that the roads were death just waiting to happen. As 10am approached, I was pretty sure that TTG would be calling me to cancel it. Completely understandable, and I really didn’t want to risk being out on the roads anyway. I was still waiting at 11am, and by noon I was wondering if maybe he had attempted to get here, and died. As 1pm approached, I started searching the Toronto newspapers to see if there had been any car crashes resulting in death that morning.

Then it happened.

The doorbell rang.

And he was here.

I opened the door, and was hit by a big pile of snow thanks to the strong winds. I rubbed the snow away from my eyes, to witness none other than Toptenguy, standing on my porch, covered in snow, giving me some standard TTG-style crotch chops. “Eeeeeeeeeey Scotsman! It was a 7 hour drive but I finally made it – almost crashed the car about 4 times, but here I am! Ready to go?”

Oh, goody. A drive that usually takes four hours, sometimes two hours if traffic is good, and it’d be at least seven fucking hours. With Toptenguy. A frenchman, not exactly notable for their elite driving skills. In fact I remember when I was last in a car with him – it was in Montreal a few years ago, my newborn son Mason was in the back seat, and TTG was racing around snow covered corners on the highway in pitch black, completely oblivious to the large areas of black ice covering the road. When I kissed my wife goodbye, it was an extra long kiss, and I gave my children big bearhugs, quite honestly wondering if I would ever see them again.

All this for a fucking Lakers game.

So we got in the car, TTG pulling out of the driveway before I even had the door closed, and we were off. The last time I met and drove with TTG, the description “crazy fucking french driver” was fitting. Now it’s “crzy fucking SLOW french driver”, as he had went from deranged Frenchman to scared ass motherfucker. On the highway 401, the speed limit is 100kmh. Most cars do about 105-110. 120-140 is also regularly done. We did 40. 40 fucking kilometres per hour on the highway. I mean granted the roads were pretty bad:

But surely we could do a little bit more than that. “No way”, said TTG. “Now lets chill out and listen to some tunes.” And with that, on went a CD featuring the likes of Madonna, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. I wouldn’t have minded it as much, but TTG decided he should sing and DANCE at every song, so here we are barely moving along the highway 401, with fucking TTG dancing and singing to “Oops, I did it again”. He then proceeded to tell me who he hates on the forums and why, with big huge ten to twenty minute rants on various posters sounding as disgusted as humanly possible. Also you know how when he writes, he uses BOLD words to add EMPHASIS? HE FUCKING DOES THAT WHILE TALKING TOO. “Fucking Ormie. I HATE Ormie. ‘Hate’ is bolded.“ I believe Ormie was the person he hated the most, as when I mentioned I had tempbanned Osiris earlier that morning, all he said was “You should add LIFE SMARK ORMBERG to the list too. Life smark is bolded.” He also had rants reserved for Stapes, who was the biggest waste of space since the drunk, referring to Stixx. I really should’ve written it all down – I was just taken aback by how someone could rant on and on for 15-20 minutes about one mans homo-erotic love for the Boston Red “SUX“. Juices_World was a pathetic imitation, and Mikey was….well, he just laughed at the thought of Mikey and kept on dancing. He also would bring up random hands of poker he’d played over the last…oh I don’t know…six years? And start ranting about these bad beats, and all the LIFE SMARKS involved in it.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, TTG put on a CD that will scare me off ever driving around with him again. Seriously, I was wishing I was back to his rendition of “Like a Virgin” after he put on this CD – a CD full of NINTENDO THEME MUSIC. 8-BIT NINTENDO THEME MUSIC. So there we are driving along, listening to fucking SUPER MARIO BROTHERS in the car. What. The. Fuck. I guess I shouldn’t complain too much about the speed, as we counted over 30 cars stuck in ditches, and watched trucks in front of us skid all over the road(and one 18 wheeler flip into a ditch) – but being in the situation I was in – I don’t think being thrown headfirst into a ditch would’ve been that much worse.

We finally got to the arena six hours later, and not a minute too soon. I pretty much ran in, and started guzzling beer as fast as possible. Then we got to our seats. Oh yes, our seats. Here was the conversation I had with TTG when he said he had the tickets:

“Are they good seats?”
“Yes.”

When I think “good seats”, I don’t expect them to be on the floor. I don’t expect to be able to reach over and yank on Kobes wang or anything while he’s taking a breather. But you know – I expect to be able to SEE the fucking game. Describing these seats as “nosebleed” would be too fucking good a description. It was so bad that when I stood up, my head actually hit the fucking roof of the Air Canada Centre. I mean seriously – this was with my cameras 6x zoom completely full:

A failure of an evening, I ended up just sitting back and doing what I do best:

Getting motherfucking drunk.

After the Lakers demolished the Raptors, we headed out into even worse weather than before:

It was absolutely fucking freezing and the snow was just crashing down, but we still had to pause for pictures of Scotsmans victory, and TTGs, as per usual, humiliating defeat:

We also stopped to do some wrestling poses because….well because we’re wrestling fans, and thats what wrestling fans do. Right? Right?? This was in the middle of me chanting R-V-D:

And this was TTG with one of his patented chest high crotch chops:

Ha ha ha ha ha. At the time I remember thinking that was awesome – looking at it now that is one of the queerest fucking pictures ever.

We got on the highway, with the plan being to get the fuck out of Toronto as fast as possible. Unfortunately we got stuck behind a row of snow plows that were blocking any forward progress. We were going below 30 kilometres – this was the average speed we went:

TTG took this opportunity to put on his BEACH BOYS CD. You know – I’ve been in a lot of weird situations, but I don’t think any of them compare to this. Here I am, half-cut, in a car with Toptenguy my internet friend who is ranting about Ormberg and Kobe and god knows what else, doing 20 kilometres on the fucking highway, while SURFIN’ USA is cranking out of the speakers. Oh, with Toptenguy randomly singing the chorus as well. Good times.

After doing 20kmh for about ONE HOUR we decided to just give up and go to a motel for the night. We hit some shitty motel in some crappy hick town in Ontario(Just outside Bowmanville I think). I went to the desk to book a room, and was informed by the desk clerk that she was “in training” and that this was her first night, and that we were actually her first customers. Oh….wonderful. We ended up waiting, no joke, for TWENTY EIGHT FUCKING MINUTES while she attempted to book us in. Sit back and think about that for a second: you’re covered in snow, it’s late, your body is aching from sitting for so fucking long all day, and then you have to wait TWENTY EIGHT FUCKING MINUTES as some hambeast doesn’t have a clue how to book someone into a hotel room. Christ.

After the longest twenty eight minutes of my life, we finally got in the motel room. I said to TTG “Lets take a picture of just one of the beds so it looks like we have to share” and he practically SCREAMED at me. “No no no Scots! You can do all your gay shit with Marky Mark, not with me! NO WAY!” He said it in that way where you have to wonder if he’s hiding something, and I made a mental note to go to sleep with my jeans on – and pack a chastity fucking belt next time I go anywhere with this freak. This motel room was just horrible too – it had an extremely strong scent of urine(although that MIGHT have just been TTG), and the bed sheets were stained with what I can only assume was semen – again, maybe it was just TTG.

The greatest thing about hanging out with a wrestling fan is that you tend to do all the dumb wrestling poses together, especially after having a few beers. Like when I was in Mexico with Marky Mark and we saw a statue or a landscape where we wanted to stand beside and get a picture of, it wasn’t just “alright stand there and say cheese”, it’s “okay I think I’ll do the Razor Ramon pose for this one!”. We turned on the television to catch the Lakers-Raptors highlights, and by sheer luck Smackdown was on. We both looked at each other, and in almost perfect sync said “LETS DO WRESTLING POSES BESIDE THE TV!”

I know. We’re the coolest.

Heres TTG doing the Randy Orton pose:

And me in the middle of YOU CAN’T SEE ME:

We went to bed after that. The walls were really thin, so we went to bed with beds squeaking all around us, and people laughing and yelling 3 rooms away. There was a scary moment when we both woke up at about 4am to a lot of noise outside the door. We looked out the window and there was about seven black guys all just standing around talking and laughing. TTG pushed me and yelled “DAMNIT SCOTS! THEY’VE READ THE WCW NIGGER REVIEW AND ARE OUT FOR REVENGE” in such a serious tone that I laughed so hard all the black guys stopped and looked over at us. We dived into bed, hid under the covers and prayed for daylight, which thankfully wasn’t too far off.

We woke up about 6am and headed the fuck out. Before leaving I had to take this picture of a local hangout, to show how witty these hicks can be:

Get it? Instead of Pub & Tavern its Tub & Pavern. Ah ha ha ha ha.

Christ I hate this trip.

We got back on the highway, and started doing about 60kmh. Then the greatest thing happened – TTG decided he wasn’t going to go back to Toronto – he was going to head home, via Montreal. He then started talking about his favourite pizza place in Montreal, and how he would stop there for pizza on the way. He started going on about all the toppings and how delicious it was, and the more he talked, the faster we went, going from 60kmh all the way up to:

TTG also decided this would be a good time to put on a CD with music that…I can’t even remember the bands, all I remember was bringing up the topic of pizza again, in the hope that it might make him go even faster. He started talking about how maybe he didn’t have to go to Montreal today – he could stay at my place and watch UFC and the Superbowl. “I don’t have room!” I said, hoping he didn’t remember that my house had four bedrooms. “Plus this weather man – you better go home.” Then even resorted to “Look I’ll even pay your gas money if you just keep on going”, which is quite the gesture considering gas prices these days. But it was worth it, as the sight of money convinced this sweaty nintendo loving freak to stay the fuck away from my house. And thank god, considering my wife has started collecting NES games, and has over 300 of the goddamn things. If he saw that – he’d never leave.

So with that, the weekend was over. I’d just spent 22 hours in the presence of Toptenguy. You know – this guy.

I’d been stuck in a car with him for the majority of that time, listening to the Super Mario Brothers theme song, as he ranted and raved about forum members. He said the phrase “life smark” at least 30 times. He drove so slow we were almost going backwards. We were stuck for hours in a car, sliding all over the road, so we could go and watch big screen TVs of a basketball game, because it was a better view than the court itself. We spent the night in a urine-stinking hotel room. We even watched WWE Smackdown. Yes, this really was yet another true weekend of hell.

It was quite the eye-opener for me really, and I vowed after that to never meet up with people from Scotsmanality again. No more gay trips to Mexico. No more road trips. No more WWE house show meetups. I’ll even stop logging on MSN, so I don’t have to get involved in a conversation with these scumbags. It’s time to leave Scotsmanality and the people I met there in the past, and move forward with my life.

Well that is…..

After this weekends visit to see Marky Mark!

I’ll never fucking learn.