Fridge and R Von D on Golden Pond: Day Two

“Beers, Weirs, and Peers”

First and foremost, I would like to go on record and say that while I have been accused of slightly embellishing the content of these blogs (an accusation I vehemently deny), I can say with unabashed certainty that everything you are about to read is one hundred percent fact. Let’s roll…

Fridge and I woke up around ten in the morning on Thursday and planned out our day. First, we were to go to the lake, get some much needed sun. The ever-sensitive Fridge laid out his favorite towel which is a confederate flag featuring a snarling pit bull on the beach, and I began my fifteen minute ritual of sunscreening. In one of our more tender moments as friends, Fridge reluctantly agreed to get the parts of my back that I couldn’t reach. I had to explain to him that this was not gay, but rather a necessity. For some, tanning is a pleasant way to achieve a healthy glow. For me, “tanning” is a practice I avoid, for there is no tan to my skin. The two varying degrees of my skin are pale and burned, no in-between. So Fridge put up a bit of a stink but in the end he was a good dude about it and he lathered me up ever so gently.

A few hours later we came back to the room to regroup and drink more beer. As I began to do the math in my head, I realized that my beer to other liquid ratio was astonishing. I had lost track of how many beers I had drank over the last 24 hours, but a moderate guess would have been somewhere around sixteen. In addition to beer, I had also had several mixed drinks during our karaoke night, so my number alcoholic drinks consumed was in the low twenties. On the flip side, my non-alcoholic liquid consumption was two vitamin waters. For those of you who are math scholars, that is an impressive 10-1 ratio for alcoholic drinks to non-alcoholic drinks. Pool water started to seem like a good idea for hydration. Even so, Fridge and I sat in our heavily air conditioned condo and drank the rest of our Busch Light thirty pack we had picked up the day before while watching Caddyshack. After the movie, we decided the best option for us to waste time would be to get some fried food and head over to Funspot for some old-school gaming. We played everything from Mortal Kombat, to Frogger, to NBA Jam, while Fridge kept is streak of 1000+ calorie meals going as he consumed a fish and chips plate, a side of onion rings, and another side order of mozzarella sticks. All of this happened before 5pm.

The purpose of us wasting time on this day, however, was to kill enough time during the day as the rest of our party was soon to be joining us at the Weirs. Fridge’s college friends, Big Ron and Wang were to be joining us this evening. What neither Fridge nor I knew at this point was it was to be one of the greatest nights in the history of my life.

Big Ron and Wang walked through the door at 9:30 pm on the dot. Ron told us that he had just driven six hours from Connecticut to be with us. I began to think to myself that this was an unnecessary amount of time to be in the car, but Big Ron explained that he had set his car’s GPS to “no tolls,” and thus taking him hours out of his way to not pay the $2.50 he would have to pay in Mass Pike tolls. Really. So we sat for a half hour drinking beer, playing games, and swapping stories until the entire party deemed it was time to make a dent in the Laconia night life scene. The place we agreed upon is affectionately known as “Club OG” which is a shithouse Chinese buffet converted on the weekends from “Oriental Gardens” to probably the greatest night club Weirs Beach has to offer… Club OG. Also, Big Ron told me earlier that he had never in his life had a scorpion bowl, and I was not about to let him go another day without tasting the nectar of the gods. So, we approach Club OG to find that there is a line outside and the parking lot is nearly at capacity. We walk in, pay our three dollar cover, and walk inside. The interior of Club OG is nothing but black lights and spotlights and smells like bleach and vomit. I promptly ordered two scorpion bowls, one for me and one for Ron. Not in my right mind, I begin telling Fridge, Wang, and Ron the story from last year where I claimed to be able to finish a Scorpion Bowl for two in fewer than ten seconds, and was paid to do so. Ron, being skeptical of this claim, told me that there was no way this is possible. Roughly eight seconds later I walked away from my stunned comrades to get myself another drink. R Von D does not make claims he cannot back up. At this point I opted for a ginger ale, for no other reason but to pace myself. As I started to walk back to our table, I noticed that the Fridge started talking to a man who introduced himself as Frank. Frank was no bigger than 5’3” and was wearing nothing but denim. Frank would spend the rest of the night hugging Fridge and I and kissing us both on the top of the head…seriously. Too drunk to care, we made small talk with Frank and his friend “Barnacle” Bill, who seriously looked like Popeye’s father. He smoked a pipe at the bar (which he later told me was filled with weed) had on a US Navy shirt, and was wearing bell-bottom jeans. Seriously it was something out of a movie and I wish all of you could have seen it. After my conversation with Barnacle Bill, I moved back to our original table to find Fridge talking to a skinny blonde girl with glasses. I quickly sat at the adjacent table but still remained right next to Fridge. Overhearing some of the conversation, I kept hearing the girl tell Fridge how nice he was and how much she liked him. But, as he went to get another drink for him and the girl, Wang sat down with the girl and attempted to hold her hand in what was then the greatest attempt at a “block” I have ever seen

(note: Wang would be outdone literally minutes later when Big Ron would dump a beer on Fridge’s head for no reason as he was talking to the blonde girl.)

So, Fridge being the good friend that he is did his best to ignore Wang and Big Ron and then asked the girl for her number. She then explained to him that she was unable to afford a cell phone, and that she should just take his number instead and she would call him tomorrow. Now, while some of you women would think this is a good way to not call a guy, I firmly believe she was telling the truth, which makes that part of the story hilarious. Also, as the girl stood up from the table to walk away, I noticed probably the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life, and while my cohorts denied it at first, they later came to see the same thing. This girl, this HIGHLY INTOXICATED GIRL was pregnant…three months I’m guessing. While Fridge maintained that she probably just had a bit of a “pooge,” I argued that it was sitting far too low on her to be a beer gut, and that her otherwise skinny frame would not allow her to look like that unless she was as malnourished as one of the African kids on the TV commercials. We said our goodbyes and left Club OG, hopefully for good.

(Fridge’s Note: Even if she was preggers, we cool. At least we know she pokes...WAMP WAMP!!)

As got back to the room, the four of us continued to drink as we sat out on the deck for some cigar time. I wasn’t feeling all that great from the scorpion bowl chug, so I opted to just chew on the straw I had kept in my mouth from my last jack and coke, a decision that proved to be costly five minutes later as this act led me to breaking a sizeable piece of enamel off of one of my molars. No bullshit, I broke my tooth right then and there by chewing a cocktail straw. At that point, I left Wang and Fridge to their cigars and a passed out Big Ron on the porch.

I woke up this morning to find that Ron had made it back to his room, but not before puking right on the deck. I also realized that half of one of my teeth was missing and that I could not lift my left arm. I have no idea how I sustained such an injury to my “good” shoulder but I assure you, dear reader, that R Von D is in a lot of pain this morning as he is typing this. Today is slightly overcast and there have already been rumblings of a mini golf theme to the day as we plan to hit all four in the area before lunch. God only knows what the night will bring. Yet, while some would fear another night like this one, I find great solace in the fact that no matter what the shadows bring, I will be back tomorrow morning to let all of you know IN DETAIL how low the four of us can sink into this abyss the locals call “The Lakes Region.”

With Soreness,

Fridge and R Von D