BUTTON'S PROFILE
WRITTEN BY LITTLE MOULTS
Profile: Big Chief Kyle Button Okay, I was reading through some of the profiles on this page, and after laughing out loud in the library, I thought, holy crap, we're missing some very important profiles! Namely, Kyle Button (who is worthy of the title SHIT SHOW if it weren't already taken). The profiles we've written in the past have made us laugh our asses off, but there's one distinct difference about the existing profiles on the website and Button's profile: that is, Button's profile hasn't even been written yet, and I'm already laughing my ass off! Where to start? I've known this crazy bastid for 19 years now. As kids, we were rebels without causes, sitting on the fence swearing at the neighborhood for no particular reason other than to be rebels. In his adolescence, Button had two sides: the peaceful side that was apparent in his teaching squirrels to eat peanuts out of his hand, and the rowdy side that provoked him to kick ass and chew bubble gum, teaching Jay to eat peanuts out of his hand (the man with the peanut allergy). Okay, it's all true except for the last part. As he became a teenager, the peaceful side seemed to disappear like cheeseburgers in a trailer park, and the kick-ass-chew-bubble-gum side took over. This is likely due to many factors and influences: His dad Hal button, Jake-the-snake Roberts, and too much red meat, too name a few. Just a side note here, if there's anyone who is undoubtedly his father's son, it's Kyle Button. Hal was a great dad who taught not only Kyle to be tough as gutter nails, but his buddies as well. You know Red from "That 70's Show?" Well, slap a beard on him, add some fists of fury, and you've got Hal. We can all attest to this, having taken part in lop-sided rock fights, full contact football matches, and just plain getting the sense knocked into us. Anyways, back to the Chief. Where was I? Oh ya, kicking ass and chewing bubble gum. When we turned into teenagers, we were introduced to a few buddies: Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, Alexander, and this guy Mike who makes a hell of a lemonade. Around the same time, the Varsity Crew saw its inception. There was many a night when we'd wombass around the hood and just kick the crap out of eachother for lack of anything better to do. Okay, to hurry this up and get to the stories, Button is now living with me (Moults) and Jay in a town where Button's gong showness thrives: LETHBRIDGE. He is now a fully grown kid. He's a dragon chasing, warcraft playin, pizza eatin, DVD buyin, memory losin, school crammin, stripper-wooing ninja. Usually ninjas are stealth like, but you'll hear this one coming for miles! Story #1 (Written by Davey Moults) Okay, since only a few of us were around for this one, I'll enlighten everyone else. The place? Toronto. The year? Summer 2004. The activity? Boozin (what did you think?!). Thanks to Rob and Bransby's lack of investigating before the trip, we ended up at a hotel that happened to be smack dab in the middle of Toronto's gay district. Anyways, after a night of heavy boozin, we decided take a foot-wombass. Here we are in the gay district, shit-faced beyond recognition. Candice decides Button is the most shit-faced and likeliest to do something funny (a safe assumption). So she say's "Hey Kyle, take it off!" from the other side of the street. Picture this in sequence: Button with his shirt off, pants undone, stumbling across the street with the biggest I-eat-shit-for-breakfast grin you'll ever see on his face. He then joins us sitting on a ledge beside the sidewalk, and passes out right there in the gay district. Being such great friends, what did we do? Carry him home? Haha, nop e. We decided to go hide behind the mailboxes across the street and see what happens. Sure enough, a couple of young swinger type lads (clearly light in the loafers) out for a romantic walk in the park, approach Kyle and try to wake him up. Did he? Unfortunately not. Unsatisfied, we waited. All of a sudden a couple security guards come walkin up and try to wake him up. Did he? SURE DID! The Blubbering Pile of Kyle sat up, looked around, his friends nowhere in sight, with two gay-district security guards asking him what the hell he's doing. You wanna talk about priceless facial expressions?! After that we decided to finally emerge before he got dragged off to the gay district drunk tank (cuz that would have been slightly TOO hilarious). Okay, many of you may recall this act of, yes, you guessed it, drunken mayhem. As we all know, if you look in the dictionary under "Gong show," you're likely to see this: Gong Show (verb): Button in Banff, 2003. More specifically, it was Jay's B-day. We were all partyin it up havin a jolly time. You know how usually it's the birthday boy who's the stumble-drunkard? Well, this time it was two compadres by the name of Kyle Button and Jordan Fowler (that's right Jordo, you're a not-so-innocent bystander on this one!). Everything was great, more or less a typical B-day in the seclusion of Alberta's wilderness treasure. However, that night, the wilderness treasure became the location of a gong show treasure for the history books! Just an aside here, as we're walkin up the street, we hear what at first sounded like a Taliban mating ritual. Was it a Taliban mating ritual, you ask? No, in fact, it was two random liquored-up naked dudes streakin down Banff Ave. yelling and hollering. Remember this, as this isn't the last we'll be hearing from these fellers. As we're all hangin out in the hotel at the end of the night, you know, winding down, Button and Jordan, or so I believe, got kicked out of the hotel for creating a ruckass in the hallway. Well, after being escorted to the door, they realize they don't have a place to sleep, so like any reasonable person would do (by reasonable I mean totally sleetched and out of control) they decide to try to crawl through the window of the ground level room to get back in. This is a brilliantly great idea, that is, unless there's RCMP driving by as you're trying to do it. The next morning, the question at hand is: "Where the *&#$ are Button and Jordan?" Well, after putting our heads together, we decide that the drunk tank is a good place to start. Sure enough, there's the two missing perpetrators that finally found themselves accomodation for the evening--in the tank. Sure, it's not a five star resort, and you have to sleep on a concrete floor with no socks, but hey, a toilet with a built-in water fountain? Now that's efficiency at its best! Hell, where else can you drink out of a water fountain and take a piss at the same time? (Just don't get the fountain confused for a bidet (to rinse your backside); your fellow inmates might not appreciate that). So after a night of listening to Jordan Nic out and protest harder than a women's rights activist on dark chocolate and speed, team tank is nearing their release time. Another aside here. Remember the streakers from the night before? Well, we're waiting for our two buddies to be released, when all of a sudden, out from the front door stumbles these two guys dressed in RCMP-issue paper suits! Talk about a cloudy unusual day! These guys had no idea where they were goin, and looked like a couple blast survivors stepping out of their bomb shelter for the first time in 30 years! One of us shouted something at them, and they just looked at us with great big, rather confused amnesia grins on their faces. After waiting a while, Button and Jordo were given their belts, shoes, and socks back, and were set free. What a couple of champs! Okay, the first two stories are great and memorable, but many of you are probably asking: What Button profile doesn't include a Penticton 2002 story? Well here it is! This was such a gong show that it needs two parts to do it justice! Summer 2002, team Big Moults (Rob, Big Mike, Bransby, and Kuzek) and Team Varsity (Little Moults, Button, Jay, Jordan, and Justin) embarked on a wombass that set the bar for gong shows. All the way out, Button and myself could be heard wooing at everything that moved. The first day there, we find a nice little hotel on the beach. Me and Jay decide to have a little tailgate party in the parking lot while Button and Justin went for a mini-wombass to get some steaks--or so we thought was a mini-wombass! After a good 2 hours of them being gone finding steaks, me and Jay decide that they must have wandered into a cow pasture and slaughtered and entire cow, so we decide to walk a couple clicks down the beach to meet Team Big Moults. Little did we know that we wouldn't be seeing our missing buddies for quite sometime, and when we did, to our dismay, they hadn't even found steaks, let alone an entire cow (though that's up for debate judging by the girls they were hanging out with). Anyways, apparently they got side-tracked and ended up sitting down for a drink or two or twenty. They ended up getting incoherently obliterated and met up with some fifty year old wop, who, despite Justin being there, wasn't a very nice fella! So much for national comradery. Later that night, we find Justin hanging out a bunch chicks, the likes of whom we didn't know. He's a little flustered, and his recollection goes something like: "Fuckin fuck man! ah fuck! Son of a bitch man!" So we ask him: "where's Button?" he replies: "Fuckin......I don't know man, we got shit faced with some old wop, I passed out on the table, and when I woke up an hour later, they were both gone!" Was this end of Button? Nope, we found him later hammeredly frolicking around Penticton having just got ripped off for a bunch of cash from some old wop. Well, as the week went on, many more stories were made. If I had a week to write about all of em, I would, but THIS is THE most famous Button moment of all time, in my opinion: Very last night in Pentiction. Our livers are all so plagued with sclerosis by this point that our bodies had become breweries in and of themselves. Well, beach party it is. So Button, the horse that he is, is obliterated by sundown. Talking with some buddies down at the beach, one of the guys says to Button: "You think you're so hardcore!" Button doesn't take kindly to this type of remark, and popping in some bubble gum, proceeds to kick ass, at least to the best of his ability. Okay, a sober Button might have kicked ass, but I think the human brewery had slowed down a little over the course of the week. The solution? Grab one of Little MOults's golf clubs from the hotel and come back. Which golf club, you ask? Perhaps a 2 or 4 iron, even a sandwedge (cuz I never hit into the sand)? Nope, how about the $150 Fat Cat Driver! Meanwhile, I return to the hotel room, where I come across Jay and Justin, who are already passed out like a couple doped-up turtle-sloths, and they inform me of the happenins that were a' transpirin. So, like any right minded individual, I grab my entire golf bag and head out to find Button. Did I, you ask? Nope. Who did, you ask? A whole gang of big rowdy fellas, who incredibly (haha), noticed Kyle and Jordan's drunken asses stumbling around with a Fat Cat Driver. At this point, one of the guys probably approached them and said: "hittin some balls at this time of night?" to which Button, to avoid trouble, SHOULD have replied: "nope, just playin through." But of course, Button, having been bit by the rage, replied: "YOU WANNA GET CLUBBED?!" Well, long story short, Button got stomped and my Driver was long gone. Where did we find him the next morning? The drunk tank? Nope, we simply didn't find him, that is, until he came wobassing back with a slightly tenderized face having spent the night in someone's van-camper. Gong Show: (verb) Button in Penticton, 2002. That's it!
