Camping: nature's way of promoting the motel industry

Quote by Dave Barry.

I went camping with the wonderful D over Labor Day weekend. We met up with some friends from work in Sterling. I have decided that I can only take approximately two days and two nights before I'm ready to go home and take a shower and sleep in a real bed, which is great because that's exactly how long our trip was! Yes, they have showers in the campground but it is torture enough to use the toilet there - I don't need to subject myself to 10 minutes of showering while standing in someone else's filth.

Camping, Day 1:
We left on Saturday after I got done working (I'm a receptionist at a salon so Saturday night is my Friday night, if that makes sense) and got to the campground around 5:30. On the way, we took a detour we didn't have to take which frustrated D, but we got to go to a Flying J gas station where D purchased beef jerky. As of last Friday, I had never had beef jerky before in my life, so that was an experience. And have you ever heard of a Flying J gas station? Not me! Anyway, we got to the campsite, put up the tent, and started drinking. I will go off on a tangent for one moment: I went camping several times when I was younger, and I definitely never noticed that literally everyone was drunk the entire time. So much alcohol was consumed over the entire weekend it was really unbelievable. Long story short, I got drunk enough (not enough to do anything embarrassing) and went in the tent for a little bit to recuperate so I could come back out and enjoy the festivities. D, on the other hand, got completely annihilated. To the point that his nickname for the rest of the trip was Jack. As in Jack Daniels, and I am not kidding. Needless to say, he was absolutely ridiculous and everyone else thought it was funny, but intoxicated me was not amused.

Camping, Day 2:
I did not sleep well because someone was snoring like a chainsaw all night long. So, slightly groggy but not really hung over, I emerged from the tent around 8:30 or 9:00. I had some breakfast and D finally got up with his tail between his legs because he felt like crap and regretted getting so drunk. I gave him the cold shoulder for a while because I was grumpy from not sleeping well and I have a hard time being sympathetic toward people who drank themselves silly and feel like crap the next day, though god knows I've been there a few times. I got some coffee in me though and eventually came around to actually being pleasant (which I should have been from the beginning) but only after D said I was acting like I wasn't very happy with him. We all got in a converted school bus (smells the same disgusting way as when you rode it on the way to school, I promise) to ride to the river to get in the canoe and raft. D and I were in a canoe, Tara, Will, Christa, and Chris were in a raft. I proceeded to get pretty drunk (D was not drinking, obviously) and we tied the canoe to the raft and made our way down the river. Along the way, I apologized all over the place for being a bitch to D. You know, like when you are disproportionately remorseful for something because you're drunk. We met some fun people (Duke, Horny, Lopez, etc.), had jello shots, bonged some beer, and generally partied our way down the river. I was in and out of the canoe a bunch of times but on one fateful occasion the canoe beat the crap out of me. See examples below.




I am convinced that canoes are evil and their metal edges are designed to torture people on purpose. I didn't feel it abuse my legs at the time but when I couldn't move them upon waking up the next day, I was definitely impressed by the anesthetic powers of alcohol. Amazing that you can inflict that much damage to yourself and not even notice it at the time. And by the way, the bruises look way worse in person, my little PowerShot doesn't capture their true hideousness all that well.

Camping, Day 3:
Ate cereal, packed up the tent, and left by 10:30. It was fabulous eating real food at home and taking a wonderful shower in my clean bathroom. I cooked tilapia, breaded tomatoes with cheese, and pasta for dinner. What I cooked is important, because when I was talking to D's mom at their house today, she told me D said I'm "a really good cook." That makes me so happy because the 1950's housewife in me needs to be an amazing cook and good at all things domestic. Especially for my man!

So all in all, I had a wonderful weekend with my wonderful guy. And now back to school. Bah.