Camping is fun...

Yes my friends, the grass is always greener on the other side... except when your neighbors are puking cheetos on it. My girlfriend and I introduced ourselves to our fellow campers with a shot of booze, and we hit it off from there. Naturally, they wanted to reciprocate, and naturally, we couldn't let them one-up us like that, so what followed was a vicious cycle of shots and beers that only one of us would recover from. Needless to say, I was the hero of this debacle, and I got a front row seat to the ensuing puke festival - which happened to coincide with lobster fest, but that's another story. Yes fans, I woke up triumphant, while the others languished in self pity, betrayed by the alcohol. At what cost? Well - I was naked when I awoke in our tent, and my clothes from the night before where strewn about the campsite... My shorts, but not my underwear stank like pee. Either someone pissed on me, or I took off my shorts and pissed on them myself. Either way, for an undetermined length of time, I was naked in a public place. That doesn't matter because I felt well enough the next day to go on, while my neighbors and my girlfriend spent most of the day decorating the campsite. Being the competitive type, I admit I was jealous of the volume and magnificent display of colors they where achieving, but I wasn't jealous enough to join in. It didn't help that I was yelling, "come on, pussy, you can do better than that!" What's strange about the whole thing is that I actually felt a bit guilty for ruining our neighbor's day. It's strange not only because it wasn't really my fault, but I seldom feel guilt. One time I knocked over three legless war vets, and a nun just to get the last 'tickle me Elmo', and I felt nothing but glory. I didn't even want the damn thing; I ripped its cute little head off while laughing my ass off walking out of the place.

I guess I felt bad because they where determined to have a good weekend, but we proverbially, and I can't stress that enough, helped them blow their whole load in one night. In conversation they stressed a strong desire to go tubing down the river at 9am the next day, along with partaking in the lobster fest, but we helped them to do none of that. The thing is, we all had a blast the night before, but the next day, I didn't seem to feel welcomed by them any longer. Their cordiality was replaced by an overall malaise, and was no longer receptive to my friendly advances. I reasoned with myself that it must be difficult to be hospitable when cheetos are coming out your nose. So for the time being, I let them be.

When I finally wrestled my girl out of her funk, her and I wished our neighbors well and went tubing down the river ourselves at around 1:00pm. When we returned... our neighbors had dramatically transformed: One had a beard and was taller, and the other was a little boy! WTF? I thought to myself, "these can't be the people we where with last night!" As it turned out, those weren't the people we where with that previous night. They had left when we where gone. Being the conspiracy theorist that I am, I immediately thought to myself that they left because of us. Because I have no proof of this, I have no choice but to continue believing that that is the case. How could they treat us like that? I thought we where pals! After I finished crying, I flew into a rage and trashed the imposter's tent then kicked their dog into the river. They where not happy campers, but neither was I, damn it!

This is why I hate making new friends. Every time I do, some poor dog suffers.
I had half a mind to go looking for them, but half a mind just isn't enough to do anything so I simply gave up. My girlfriend gave the 'everything is going to be alright' speech as we where being thrown into the back of the police car. I hate that speech - but for some reason it helps a bit, especially when you where just maced. When asked by the police why I kicked the dog, I said I thought it was a rabid beaver bent on stealing my neighbor's firewood. After being pistol whipped, I fessed up to the whole thing. The story was so sad that they felt bad enough to let us go home with a warning and a donut. The donut was a nasty cream filled donut, but at least they tried.

After this harrowing experience, I decided to give up on making friends on vacation. It just hurts too much... Being maced, and pistol whipped is no good time, but on the bright side I got some sweet loving, and not from the cops. Apparently that's all one needs to do in order to procure some sweet intercourse - lose some teeth, your eyesight, and you're in!

Even though I told a heart breaking story about our trip, I would like to clarify that the trip, besides the above mentioned happenings, was a great success. We had a very good time, and will be doing it again soon, hopefully. I would also like to say that no animals where harmed in the making of this blog... except for that one.... who sustained no life threatening injuries and will be walking again in a few months.