#300

Mood: Hungry. I would have passionate sex with Jamie Oliver right now. Right after I pilfer his kitchen. Mmm... biscotti.
Music: Goldfinger cover of 99 Red Balloons

Hey, this is post # 300! If I had a year for every post, I'd be dead!!

Anyways. About the camping trip. Like I said, it was a successful event even though one of my immediate kin got so drunk that they got lost taking a wiz behind the tent and had to ask a random camper for help in getting back to the campsite. How embarassing... that was on Saturday night, so let's not get ahead of ourselves!

Friday
When The Father and I arrived at the gatehouse we were informed that we were the third of our party to check in. Splendid! However, upon arrival at our campsite there were no signs of any relatives. Nope. None. Though there were some rowdy twelve-year-olds and this wrinkly blonde thing that looked like walking AIDS... a camp ground would seem an unusual place for her to seek business, but once you take into account the ammount of alcohol and impared judgement that flows through the place, not to mention the added cover of darkness that only adds to her alure, it's not all that surprising.
Which brings me to... eww. A couple hours after we pitched the tents, (positioning them mere centemeters apart for maximum tarp coverage) at around 2:00 in the afternoon, we were treated to the sounds of someone taking a really painful dump... either that, or it was the din of passion. Ironic how sometimes you can't tell the difference. Eesh.

Anywho, by the time four o'clock rolled around and no one had joined us except a couple of agnostics, we began to suspect segregation. It was entirely plausible that all the little blacksheep had been strategically grouped together while the religious folk were off in another part of the park praying for our souls. That, or there was a funeral and someone forgot to call us.
...But it turns out we were just ambitious and arrived first - the gatekeepers had fed us lies.

Amongst others came my ritch bitch cousin Julie and her 'princess', Riley ("She's only used to playing with other Airedale Terriers!") and my aunt Regina, who provided stuffed steak and marinated shrimp for dinner before retiring to her tent in silk pajamas.

Saturday
This day officially started out with Aunt Jemima (who to my cousin Suzanna's dismay had lost her do-rag) but let us not forget the 4:00 in the morning incident.
Basically what happened was I couldnt sleep, and The Father, about 30 centemeters away from me in the other tent kept talking to his girlfriend (who had yet to arrive) in his sleep. To my utmost delight he shut up for about a half hour, and just as I was floating blissfully on the edge of conciousness, I (along with the rest of the park) was roused by "MY BABY'S COMIN' TA SEE ME!"
Great. That's just marvelous, I'M AWAKE again! So I retaliate with a well-articulated "Shut up!" - And that's when the real fun began.
The following five minutes were spent convincing The Father that I was not in his tent, that it in fact was the beagle that was in his tent... thanks dad, I'm really flattered that you can make that distinction.
AND THEN! After he'd come to, he decided to go start the fire while remarking over the next twenty-five minutes how weird that just was.

So, all in all I had about an hour of sleep that night. Then I went to Tobermory and saw some DUCKS!

Sunday
Today at my campsite, you are considered a minority if you are not hungover.

FIN!