**Contents edited via comments made by Daniel Banazek**
Good afternoon toastedblog faithful; how we all doing?? Well, we have a lot to get to today so you better pick up your sticks and get ready. Despite my best efforts of late to ruin my internet rep, I have actually decided on a topic to write about so this entry of toasted information will not be some rehashed and edited former toastedblogs nor will it be the nonsense encountered last week, which I like to refer to as definitely non-Scottish and we all know our rule here; if its not Scottish, ITS CRAP!! (whiny background voice: "But Toast, we thought you were Irish?") Dang it, no time to explain, who asked that question anyway?? Alright, I'm almost entirely Irish with a wee bit of Scot, but I'm all man!!! I was just trying to use a Saturday Night Live quote from back in the day. We better with the explanation now? Ok, on with the show.
Today, we are all going on a journey. We have a bit of time traveling to do so I hope y'all gassed up your DeLorians. Get ready to cue Jitter with the "where we're going, we don't need roads" line cause we're heading Back....to the Future!!! Dang it, that's where Michael J. Fox was trying to go. We're just going back to the year 2000; the reason, the origin of the Toast.
**key sidenote: Billy, I am eagerly awaiting copy of Chigago weekend tape. See Jitter's line**
1.21 Gigowatts!!!
The year was 2000/2001. The NY Football Giants are being led by a confirmed drunken racist and a man pushing his chips to the center of the table.....this team is going to the playoffs. Great movies like Big Momma's House and Chicken Run are tearing up the Box Office, Sisqo and the Baha Men were hittin' the streets with some brand new flava in your ear, and apparently Rob Thomas is the best songwriter known to man. Is this before the time he collaborated with Carlos Santana. I threw up in my mouth a little bit every time I heard that song "Smooth". Here we find the days of the band Everclear going from hard rock to cheese pop (ever listen to "AM Radio" or "Wonderful"....sigh), something was going on in Friends, and Conan's "In the Year 2000" skit reached new hilarity with the year actually being 2000. It was a time between Super Nintendo and Gamecube so Nintendo 64 was all the rage. Back then, Napster was free, Tool was about to release their first new album since 1996 and we were still a year away from a Star Wars Episode II disappointment. The days of Bent, Bye Bye Bye, return of Bon Jovi (Yeah Rage!!!) and Sting, even though he required some new age singer, and U2 was about to launch their most annoying album since Pop, which also happened to be their first release since Popmart tour. Dammit, Bono sure was everywhere following "All That You Can't Leave Behind" (coincidentally led to the downfall of my relationship with U2's music). Ah 2000......Sweet Cutlass, a girlfriend a full foot shorter than me (but I'm 5'11"), Banazek and his Bert pipe, Billy was a new phenomenon to me (I had no idea what a Rage Kage was at this point), Zany Brainy employment, living with little Crapper and Badass, across from Kyle, being 21 finally and a certain household that is responsible for my last four years. The place, 715 Lancaster Ave.
This was my senior year of college, well, 2000-2001. Good ol' LeMoyne. GO DOLPHINS!!! Anyway, the beer tasted sweeter, rent became a fun chore that had not yet been realized until then, I was living on mac and che and hamburger helper, learning how to pay bills, and finally spending the majority of my nights at the house down the street with large men clad in fleece sweatpants to combat their living room temperature. This was 715 Lancaster; complete with a frigid living room capable of keeping 30 packs of 'Stones refreshing, plates with nothing but ketchup (or catsup) and stranded french fries left on them, obvious remnants from Potter, the house's resident hippy, recliners in the reclined position and Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in the stereo. The house had to have about 7 bedrooms in it, let alone the hidden, closet sized bathroom underneath the stairway which featured low slanted ceilings perfect for drunken head resting. The people, why this house was loaded with the most outrageous of characters, some of whom you have heard of, the others, just stories and myths. There was Willie Moe, Javen, our hippy friend Potter, Uncle Jitter during vacations and off season (complete with dog bed), Danny (Pre/Post Relationship Banazek), and Laurie, otherwise known as Bertha. All of 715's inhabitants had graduated from college a year or two before I was set to finish up, either from LeMoyne or Syracuse and I had met all of them at one time or another. Some I worked with, some I met through current friends at the time, but I was destined to fit in amongs them and it was here that the legend of Toasty began.
**Note the spelling of Toasty, the Portuguese spelling with the -ie ending would become official Toastie nomenclature in 2002 following trip to visit Uncle Jitter overseas, where I also broke Harold Arceneaux's lamp while hammered. To request action shot of this historic event, please forward address to Toastedblog.blogspot.com**
Over the year, I found myself hanging out an awful lot with those lovable boys from the other end of Lancaster. At this point of time, I am known only as Casey, which despite what you may have heard Toastedblog fans, is my actual name. Nights were spent at 715 watching sports, drinking heavily, discussing classic TV shows like the Fall Guy, playing drinking games, popcorn ball toss, slugging bottles of Jim Beam, NHL 94, singing Return to Pooh Corner, dang it-ing, drinking more, yelling, and all around tomfoolery. The site of the original greatest weekend ever, home of that years NFL playoff viewing, and I am pretty sure the only place Rhen saw when he visited central NY with Tommy was that living room, it was a great place to just hang out and let three or four days just pass you by without even noticing. One evening, right around the time of March Madness, I was called to head over to watch some basketball and drink all of the Utica Club I could get my hands on. However, a bunch of my housemates decided to hang out on my end of Lancaster, at not quite as good ol' 946 Lancaster. Seeing as how at this point of my collegiate career I had a lady friend who would frequently stay overnight, I opted stay around the house, hang out, have couple beers and play everyone's least favorite drinking game but the easiest to get underway, Asshole. However, I did not let my lovable band of gents at 715 know of my plans, and as they got drunker, they got more irrate. Javen, got so mad, he went to question my whereabouts with a bellowing yell that sounded a bit like this: "WHERE"S TOASTY?!?!?!" The other housemates, looking bewildered, also wondered where this Toasty character was. This would remain unanswered until I entered 715 late that evening all hammered looking for some more drinking. But something was different this time when I walked in the front door. Instead, of being greeted with a hey, or what's up Casey; the name Toasty erupted from the general vicinity of the living room. I didn't know where this came from so I just went along with it. Little did I know it would change my life forever!!!
Since that faithful night, the name Toasty has gone through a ton of makeovers. From the perennial favorites like Toastmaster General and Mayor McToast, weird French versions like Le Toast, made up names like Toaster Toasterson, all the way to the present Toastie, which I think is the tops. Realistically, the nickname has given me an identity that Casey could only dream of. Imagine this site as Caseyblog. You kiddin' me?!?! I'd much rather be Toastie, the lovable Irish scamp, than just plain Casey Cregg. Who wants to read about that?? That's right, no one. Well, no one other than my Dad, he gave me this name. If it were up to my Mom, I would have been Squire Brandon Cregg and thus not be here today because I definitely wouldn't have made it out of High School. Thank God for Pops Cregg right?! So, there you have it, the origin of Toastie. Its not great, but it is all that I've got.
1 comment:
Damnit Toastie,
You were there more than I was, and even I know it was 715 Lancaster Ave. The greatest house ever. And how can you possibly blog about 715 and not mention Shovelball a once?????
oh and i think 715 changed us all forever...for the better I might add.
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