Dornochapalooza 2008

Seeing as I managed to lose all of my photographic evidence of the 2007 edition, I decided to try to make up for last year's gaff by providing more photos than anyone could ever possibly want to see. Here is Dornochapalooza 2008: A Photographic Essay.

This is how the City All-Stars get ready for game action. Really, you can't emphasize enough how important it is to avoid pulling a groin... in public.

It took my dad and I about 5 hours to assemble the second basketball net on Friday afternoon (anything less than full court is bush league), and let's just say that the action on the court mirrored the previous day's mechanical dexterity. To call it ugly would be like saying that Clay Aiken prefers the company of men; a ridiculous understatement. Luckily for everyone involved, the only photo anyone bothered to take was of the post-game team variety.

Notice the wet playing surface. We'll blame the caliber of play on the rain.

After completely dominating the action on the court, 905 superstar Sully decided to turn my parents' front lawn into a makeshift slip'n'slide. Apparently we forgot to mention that my dad keeps the lawn booby-trapped with razor blades. Good luck explaining those scratches to your girlfriend ("Honestly, it was the damndest thing... I slid across the lawn, and all of a sudden I was covered in these fingernail-on-chalkboard-like scars...")

While the rest of us were crashed out in tents, some of the higher class clientele were rocking it in a pop-up trailer. Rumour has it those trailers make for fantastic hot-boxes.

Fresh off his game-saving grab in the Alfredo Griffins (consolation) Championship final, DVZ sports his stylish cane, fireside. The moral of the story for the kids out there is that you should never let a broken ankle keep you from smoking 35 cigarettes and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon from a keg. DVZ: an inspiration to us all.

Despite the fact that the rain basically put the kibosh on any Beer Die demonstrating, the Beirut table was in full effect. Nothing will turn a party into an out-of-control debacle quite as quickly as a massive Beirut tournament, and the cheer that came from the crowd when Sully and I carried the table out to the fire sent chills down my spine. It was a special moment.

Notice the 13-year old looking on intently. We're all about educating at Dornochapalooza.

In the same way that he dominated on the basketball court and the makeshift slip'n'slide, Sully simply couldn't lose at Beirut on this night. The fact that both he and his 18-year old partner vomited prolifically mid-game goes to show what kind of dedication is needed to run the table at Dornochapalooza.

Does Sweet Nate's appearance in this shot constitute a photobomb? I mean, my dad was just minding his own business, getting some much needed advice from former adult film director Porno Paul, and Sweetness has to go and ruin this otherwise classy shot... Some guys just have no tact.

Is this shot the ultimate oxymoron? On the one hand, you have resident economist/fashion expert Mike Foley drinking from a green bottle, forgoing the kegs of PBR the way any self-respecting member of the financial community would; but on the other hand, you have Mike Foley wearing a free giveaway T-shirt which reads "Canadian Country Superstar"... What kind of a resident fashion expert would sport such an atrocity? I think we need some answers.

Ronnie with VW mechanic extraordinaire Rolf. Believe it or not, Rolf is actually having the time of his life. Gotta love that free-spirited, happy-go-lucky German disposition.

The only thing that could possibly distract two dudes from a fully loaded beer bong is the sight of their respective mothers playing Beirut...

...and getting lambasted.

Dunner with The Firestarter, Andrew. That minor stain on the front of Dunner's shirt is the result of a funnel gone wrong. Not to worry, though, as Dunner would eventually wash that stain away while making out with a lovely lady while standing out in the pouring rain... That sounds like an old Barbra Streisand song.

The 905ers brought it strong on this night, and there was no better example than B*Rad, The Tooth, and Big Big Devo (not shown). Represent.






The wacky world of Rob Muldoon.






My dad managed to blow out his outdoor speakers while blasting Dylan's Blonde on Blonde, so I pulled my car up to the bonfire and cranked up the tunes. I kept the doors open to allow the speakers to project further, and when I came back to change the station (everyone had had enough of Little Steven's Underground Garage), I found Smokey the Dog riding shotgun. At least someone was appreciating the sound quality from that VW factory system.







A Murderers Row. I have absolutely no recollection of this photo being taken, but I'm pretty sure we were trying to showcase DVZ's broken ankle. Unsuccessfully, I might add.







And the mobile keg might have something to do with it. As has become tradition, it absolutely pissed rain on and off over the course of the entire day and night. As a result, the party was constantly shifting locales, from the garage to the fire and back again. This can make it extremely inconvenient when trying to polish off two kegs. The answer? Put the keg on wheels. I honestly didn't ever think that my childhood wagon would come in so useful.





This photo was taken during one of the rain delays. As you can see, Claus (far left) is having a damn good time...





While drinking from the bottle of Bushmills 10-year Malt, he is having an even better time. It was shortly after this drink that he begain introducing himself as "Santa Claus". Along with Sweet Nate, DVZ, and myself, he was the last one awake. The man is a grandfather. What a legend.





Despite the fact that this photo will probably prevent me from ever running for office (pouring from the keg for Beirut, joint in mouth...), there are few shots which better encapsulate what Dornochapalooza is all about. Dig the fact that Sully is pissing in the background.





At what point do you get too old for a keg stand? I say never.





The reason that a record number of partygoers fell victim to projectile vomitting (including the two gentlemen pictured, along with yours truly, to name a few): Kegs of PBR.



Thanks to all who attended and helped out. It's never easy to make a 2-5 hour drive in the pissing rain just so you can drink cheap beer from a keg and sleep in a tent, but it means the world to us. And a special thanks to my parents for making it all happen.

See you all again next year at Dornochapalooza 2009.