Pre-Blog comment: Bear down, Chicago Bears!
Pre-Blog comment #2: Welcome, Cheeseball-flinging neigbhors and friends to the Addiverse
Pre-Blog comment #3: Who the hell ever thought of mixing Red Bull with Jaggermeister and downing shots of this hellish concoction?
Pre-Blog comment #4: Doesn't it just figure that my DOG is doing better in the football pool than I am? Maybe I should have let her make my picks all year long and I wouldn't have come in last place.
I have a confession to make. I belong to a gang. (Stand back while I flash my colors--eggplant and forest green.)
Above: these are SERIOUS gang members. Don't mess with them...or, their food. (I can't share their true identies or we'd have to kill you. Phlange-a-slam, Pee Pee Peeker, Little Debbie Sneezeclumper and Patty Party Pecs take their anonymity with the utmost seriousness....) You didn't think all those tattoos I have were for fun, did you? Those are gang-related tattoes. (that Mickey Mouse is a real rat bastard. Ar Ar.)
Above: getting tattooed during a meeting of the Love Loft. Grrrrrrowl!
This weekend marks the end of an era for the gang to which I belong—the Triple L—or, for those in the know, the L-L-L (pronounced el-el-el). We, the esteemed eggplant-and-forest-green colored-gang members of the LLL had to say goodbye to our lodge of love, the President’s House at George Williams College. It is only fitting I dedicate the next 37 blog entries to the LLL and the loss of our bi-annual abode. (Blogging will be an integral part of my healing about this loss.)
Why? Why must we say goodbye? Because the college is knocking the building down, that’s why. That’s a pretty good reason…and one way to get us off their campus. It is time to move on.
Indulge me for a moment, won’t you? I feel a therapy session coming on.
An introduction: flash back to October 1994 (I had red, shag hair—the only way I can remember when I did what is by what hairdo I had at the time), the wife and I were invited to a friend’s cabin in Doctor-a-day-Fruit Canyon, about 80 miles west of our house. It was a beautiful cabin surrounded by nature’s finest, resting in the Land of General Grant. We really didn’t know most of the participants but we were game, as it sounded like a free-of-cost, alcohol-free food-frenzy of an event. (You read that right—alcohol free. We don’t want to waste calories on booze when there is twenty five tons of homemade food waiting for consumption. If you have a food addiction, this would NOT have been the place to be, but there was no need for alcohol to make this Love Loft fun.)
The hostesses were the Dog Whisperer (aka Ingabor Logjammer) and sidekick Spotted Owl (aka “Where’s the salad dressing?” lady ). The cabin sported a giant loft—hence, we ended up nicknaming it the Love Loft. (The third L in the LLL? That’s for you to figure out. It’s not rocket science, but out of respect to my gang sisters, I leave it at that.) All but two of us slept together in the loft. (Not literally together, you pervert—all in the same loft.) There were these teeny, tiny twin beds, which somehow we managed to sleep two in a bed. (That’s when we were much younger and didn’t mind squashing ourselves into twin beds. I am SO over that idea.) Some slept on the loft floor in sleeping bags or on air mattresses.
The weekend featured nerdy, wholesome things like:
hanging out in the loft,
playing board games,
eating,
lying in the middle of the gravel road looking up at the stars,
eating,
playing touch football in said gravel road,
eating,
staying up late into the night,
eating,
country line dancing in the living room (Boot Scootin’ Boogie, anyone?),
eating,
laughing,
smoking cigars, and
getting to know each other.
Little time was spent sleeping, solving world crises or doing things like makeup.
This first official meeting of the Love Loft gang is the weekend I met my twin sister, Tumbleweed (soon to be known more infamously as Einsteina Vagina)….she earned her nickname during the event when she managed to fall down the stairs at 3 AM, sparks flying from her slippers as she was flying down the carpeted stairs. (She was sober. To this day we are still not sure what really happened—all we heard was the commotion of her free-falling down the stairs and landing with a thud at the coat rack. Perhaps she was in some unusual food coma from the copious amounts of calories shoveled in during the day.) No she was not hurt--well, except for her pride but since she gave us much fodder for future LLL stories, she is probably almost proud of her tumble.
Above: this is NOT a picture of the Love Loft at the President's House but it is a picture of a recent summer meeting of the LLL in an out-of-state adventure. I don't have any photos of the cabin except in my photo albums, so use your imagination. (These are the true members of the LLL, enjoying a parchment papered lunch. That's a whole story in itself. Later...) Notice we are seated at a table, eating a meal. Many an hour has been spent in this position during meetings of the Love Loft.
Back to the cabin: Mouse turds on the counters and nibbles on the bread let us know we had visitors in the night and that we were in rustic territory—of course, the mouse turds in the bed sheets also alerted us we weren’t alone. Well, it wasn’t really THAT rustic, as there was a TV & VCR, an electric darts game, indoor plumbing. Plugs for hair dryers and CD players….. one of the funniest things related to mice is when LLL-ers put this hideous-rather-real-looking mouse in the wife's bed. Wish you coulda seen her face when she pulled back the comforter.....!
As we had such a fun time that first weekend, it was determined the gang would meet bi-annually at the cabin. And thus, we did exactly that. I have four million stories about the LLL, of which I will share 3.9 million of them in the next blogs. (The Love Loft is kind of misnomer, as there wasn't much love aloft in the loft, although we have been accused of much debauchery.) It was all good, even when we gained weight from all that eating matched with sitting playing board games....
......years went by without a hitch....... until the unthinkable happened. The cabin had to be sold. The gang was without a home turf.....
It was hard to say good bye to Galena but we knew we would persevere. All we needed was a place to call our new LLL home. We turned to Freida Food Frenzy (aka the wife) for help. She came through, securing us lodging at George Williams College. The gang went on, although we did miss the loft and ability to visit Generall Grant on a moment’s notice.
Here's a photo of what the campus looks like from the pier. Beautious, eh? It wasn't the cabin but it would suffice.
The story of the Love Loft as it progressed to George Williams College will have to wait--look, even Freckles is yawning by now, as illustrated above. I'll stop here so I can go eat a snack and gather my thoughts about the LLL....I'm in mourning and have to be gentle with myself and besides, I have to go get ready for the neighbors' Chicago Bears Football party.
No, we aren't taking cheeseballs....but, I'm sure they will be drinking those crazy Red Bull/ Jaggermeister bomb shots....
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