It was Chris' birthday yesterday, and though it may seem that I'm a day late in wishing him many happy returns, I was actually celebrating this special event in full-Radloff style, and it took me 8 hours to finally locate a modern computing device to report my experience.To honour the Radloff, I travelled hundreds of miles into the remote backwoods of Southwestern Ontario, to a sleepy farm community in possession of one post office, one bank, one school, three churches and and six taverns. Feeling almost immediately Iowan, I was escorted by 4 leather-jacketed and fully-patched bikers to a friend's garage, where I was handed a beer, and welcomed into a passionate garage-dude conversation about manifolds. Or something like that - I wasn't really paying attention. I was checking out the Snap-On-Tools calendar on the wall. Sweet.
After a solid game of "My-Bike-Rocks-Harder-Than-Yours", we barbecued luscious racks of pork ribs in the depths of a 17 degree F snowstorm. Three hours later, in a state of alcoholic nirvana, we traded air guitar licks in the living room and broke my mom's picture frames on the fireplace mantle.
So Happy Birthday Radloff, and thanks for a great party - you Iowans really know how to have a good time! Ois guade winsch i dia zum Gbuadsdog!
5 comments:
Wheee! Do I know how to throw a party or what?
Pork ribs... Mmmmmmm!
Is the birthday gift to us that picture? I wish that there had ever been one moment in my life where I was that rockin'. Sadly, there has not been, and this picture has simply deepened the chasm of my despair.
But happy birthday to one who can rock that hard, and many more years of rockin' to ya.
And I'll imagine that the alcohol included corn liquor. As a goodly portion of my family is from the Hawkeye state, I have imbibed more corn-based whiskey than is recommended by any semi-official sanctioning body. If it were an SAT question, 'twould go thusly:
Iowa : corn liquor :: Chicago : Old Style beer.
I actually looked pretty cool for a while there, from July 6, 1997 to July 8, 1997. Then my belly flopped out over my belt and hair sprang forth from my ears, leaving me naught but a memory...
Woo hoo! Happy Birthday, Radloff!
At least you had the memory. There has, to my knowledge, never been a cool picture of me. Critics say it's because I'm not cool; I say it's because I am fleetingly cool, and only the fastest speed film can capture those twinklings.
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