Weddings… What can I say that hasn’t been said already? Weddings totally rock! Yeah, I know, I’m against the whole marriage and commitment thing, but the actual event, the wedding itself, is just an amazing experience. And I’m not saying this just because it gives me a perfect opportunity to throw out lines from the movie Old School. Which, by the way, is not only a great movie, but a timeless classic.
Maybe you’ll want the full story. Saturday, one of my fraternity brothers got married. It’s always a joyous occasion when someone you’ve known throughout your college career finally settles down with a woman he holds close to his heart. Yes, I’m a sucker for that lovey-dovey sentimentality crap. Also, there was an open bar.
Few other phrases in the English language can inspire so much wonder and excitement as those two words: open bar. Just writing the words is making me giddy. I want everyone out there to know, I went to the wedding because both Josh and Monica are very dear friends of mine and I would carry out any favor they needed at the drop of a hat. They’re just that awesome. But the much less compelling and highly secondary reason I attended the wedding this weekend was for my other very dear friend, alcohol.
I hope you all are already aware of my penchant for that particular aqueous substance. As far as I’m concerned it’s a magical elixir that chases away bad things. It also happens to make my friends much more interesting and certain people much more bearable. Though I think the surgeon general needs to add the following warning label to all liquor bottles sold in the US:
Warning: Objects viewed while inebriated may be less attractive tomorrow morning than they currently appear.
I’m just saying, it’s something that everyone should be aware of. Not that I had to worry about that during the wedding, no sir. I may have been drinking alright, but I was hanging out with my fraternity brothers that I hadn’t seen in a while. There was no trolling for bridesmaids for me. I was simply happy to see everyone again, especially some of the guys whom I hadn’t seen in a good two years. Man, where does the time go?
I have to say, everyone was happy to see me as well. I’m just the kind of guy that all the other guys want to be around. I think it has something to do with my lack of niceties around women. I have a very bad habit of saying things that make girls genuinely upset and reproachful. And you know what, I’m ok with that. I just find angry women amusing. It has the added side effect of making all the other guys around me look that much better by comparison. And guys like looking better by comparison.
All the old frat brothers seemed quite surprised that I had dressed up for the occasion. Now, I’m normally all for casual wear and comfortable clothing. That’s just my style. But I do like to dress up all fancy for certain events. I happen to think I look damned good in a suit, but then again, that’s just my opinion. Besides, it was a wedding; you’re supposed to look your best at weddings. So seeing me in nice charcoal pants, a starched shirt, tie, and a coat was apparently something unexpected. The green shirt and khaki pants ensemble that I wore practically every week to frat meetings back in college just wasn’t going to cut it for Josh and Monica’s big day, even a bachelor bum like me knows that.
The girls that I ran into at the wedding also noted that I looked rather nicely dressed for the evening. Although, they seemed to have a hard time accepting the fact that I had actually dressed myself in such button-up finery. The first three or four times I heard the comment, “I don’t believe it! There is no way you dressed yourself this morning!” I thought it was rather funny. I’d like to think I’m genuinely a good sport like that. But after the seventh or eighth time hearing the very same line from a female acquaintance, I started to get a little fed up with the whole act.
Though, I do have to admit, there have been times that I haven’t quite been up to code on my dress. Getting all the shirt buttons lined up properly while dressing is still an ongoing struggle. And I don’t even want to mention the incident where I tucked the collar down inside my shirt. It ended up not being the latest fashion trend as I had been led to believe. But this does not mean that I am incapable of dressing myself. I’m merely… a little slow. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
I was finally able to convince my female admirers (I’m going to call them that until I am scientifically proven otherwise) that I had managed to struggle into a suit and tie entirely of my own volition. I told them I used a diagram pinned up to my wall that showed step by step instructions on how to get everything on. They bought that. Apparently I’m incapable of buttoning my own shirt, but following directions, sure I can do that.
You know, come to think of it, that’s really not a bad idea. I’m just going to write that down on my list of ideas that I’ll eventually get rich off of. I’m thinking a 1, 2, 3 instruction guide, showing elaborate illustrations to help with donning formal wear. It’ll look just like the Lego instructional pamphlets that come with new Lego sets. I’m sure there are plenty of guys out there who could use some graphical insight to help fasten their ties. Let’s be honest here, wearing a clip on tie is a total fashion faux pas.
The wedding itself was lovely and the reception was delightful. From what I hear, I had a wonderful time. For the record, however, drinking three bottles of red wine all by yourself is not recommended, even if it is an open bar. But, being the trooper that I am, I took my booze (hey, wine is still booze) like a man, and kept it all down. I even managed to make it through the night without pissing off any women. Go me!
Just remember to always beware the tomorrow, as the morning light will most assuredly rise to kick you in the kiester. I was not feeling okay when I woke up the next morning, large quantities of alcohol will do that to you. At the same time, this warning applies to the happy couple as well. Oh, I’m sure they woke up Sunday morning just as thrilled as can be, and I am truly happy for the two of them. But they’re together now… forever.
I was in the church. I heard the pastor say it. “Until death do us part.” Those words sent a chill down my spine. Heck, it still gives me the willies today. One woman… one lover… one companion. One wife, until you die. Not my cup tea, sorry. But for those of you who do take the leap, those of you who do find comfort and solace in the arms of another and are bound to them for eternity, I wish you the best of luck. For there is nary a thing in this life more powerful than spending time with those you truly care for.
And to Josh and Monica: I wish you the greatest happiness and blessings for the rest of your years.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
We’re Gonna Party Like It’s Your Birthday
Last Friday was my friend Kristi’s birthday. And if I know anything about celebrating a birthday, then it’s going to involve copious amounts of alcohol. Ok, so maybe I involve bountiful quantities of alcohol for any celebration. That’s just who I am. What can I say? Distilleries around the world love me.
So it was Friday, the 19th of October, when my friend Kristi turned the big 24. Now, that’s not a big number in any way. It’s not, say… 25, which is a full quarter of a century. Nor is it 40, which is the number that marks the onset of middle age official. It’s not even close to 62, which is the when you can start collecting partial social security benefits. But, 24 is a big enough year to require getting drunk and taking birthday spankings from your friends. The spankings were not my idea. Seriously, I was a good boy. I kept my hands to myself for once.
For the record, Kristi spells her name with a “Y.” Thus, when she writes her name out, it is looks like “Kristy.” But I spell it differently. Mainly, I spell it that way because it makes her sound like a stripper, and that amuses me. She doesn’t seem too fond of it, though. One of these days women are going to realize that their sole purpose for being on this planet is to amuse me. Until they accept that one little fact, they are going to be perpetually inclined to hate and despise me. And that’s ok. I happen to find angry women entertaining. That’s just me.
Now, just because I’m a horrible person and I intentionally make my friend Kristi out to be stripper-esque, that doesn’t mean that I’m a terrible friend. I’m pretty sure I just contradicted myself there, but hey, I’m trying to make a point. Bear with me. Since I am such an amazingly good friend, and such a stand-up guy, I was explicitly put in charge of the whole affair for Friday night. Now if you’re plan for the evening is to drink, drink, and drink, then I’m not exactly the wrong person for the job. Some of my alcoholic feats are legendary. And then again, some of them merely involve me getting drunk, and getting slapped repeatedly. Eh, it happens.
The way I came into the position of leadership for the birthday festivities is quite a story. Well, it’s not a long story, not is it an entirely entertaining one, but it’s a story I’m going to share with you nonetheless. Personally, I find it somewhat amusing.
So, the week before (that would be the 12 of October, if my subtraction skills are up to par) I was out at a bar with Kristi and two other fine gents. Kristi, being a woman, and me being, well, me, I felt the need to say some things that annoyed and possibly upset my good female friend. Now, I’ve spent a good portion of my life learning and perfecting my abilities to piss off the opposite sex, and personally, I’d think it would be shame not to use them. So use them I did. For some strange reason, I don’t think Kristi was flattered by my improper comments. I think it was the fact that she repeatedly used the phrase, “I hate you,” that gave it away.
But in between telling me how me she hated me, which she managed to do repetitively on several separate occasions, she told me that I was in charge of her birthday for the following week. I was supposed to plan where we were going as well as recruit some more people to go out and drink with us. Now, I don’t know why the other two guys in attendance weren’t good enough for her, I mean, they were actually being nice to her, but apparently I was the guy for the job.
So in the intervening week, not only did I manage to negotiate where we would be transmuting our hard earned dollars into liquid, mind-altering substances (and by negotiating, I mean, I asked Kristi where she wanted to go, and then commanded everyone to go there; I call it leadership) but I also was able to garner a fairly decent crowd for the festivities. Ok, so maybe no one really came out because I said so, mostly they wanted to hang out with Kristi. That’s ok with me. Seeing as it was her birthday, the spotlight was most appropriately on her. I was more of a background character.
Now being in charge has its downfalls. It requires you to be responsible. And responsibility means driving all the drunken idiots home after a night on the town. But it was Kristi’s birthday, and I was in charge, so yeah, I think I can be the sober guy for one night, which is exactly what I did. So after a shortened evening on the town (we only hit two bars), we ended up back at Kristi’s apartment complex, hanging out with her neighbors. Up to that point, the evening was rather uneventful. I mean, there were shots taken, some singing, some dancing, and I’m pretty sure someone left a bite mark on Kristi’s ass (and it totally wasn’t me, I was sober, remember), but that’s really nothing to write home about.
So, here we were, seven or eight people, hanging around outside of an apartment at 3am discussing the possibility of ordering a pizza. Now, for those of you who don’t stay up that late, let me fill you in on a little secret: pizza doesn’t exactly get delivered after 2am, even on Fridays. So, bummed out, a few of our party left. Those that stayed ended up inside the neighbor’s apartment watching the recently released Transformers on DVD (good movie, by the way, even if I prefer the original 1986 animated Transformers: The Movie better). I neglected the box-office blockbuster when I found a copy of Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition lying on the kitchen counter. Beyonce was on the cover, ‘nuff said.
I had managed to not piss of Kristi while we were out at the bars. Seeing as how it was her birthday, I thought I could do at least that much for her. Though I have to admit, I accomplished this feat by keeping my mouth shut most of the time we were out. Yet somehow, I finally got on her nerves by looking at pictures of scantily clad women. Well, in all honesty, she was upset because I was slobbering all over the pictures of the beautiful blonde models in the magazine (she doesn’t like blondes for some reason). To be perfectly fair, I wasn’t just ogling the blondes, I was also eye-humping the two-dimensional brunettes as well as the insanely gorgeous Brazilians posing therein. And on a completely unrelated note, I’m saving up all my pennies for a trip to Brazil. Who’s coming with me?
Shortly thereafter, Kristi left to go walk her dogs and get some sleep. She had sobered up quite a bit up to that point, which was refreshing. If she had fallen too far into her drinks, it would have been my responsibility to look after her while she was sick. Like I noted before, I hate being in charge. But she was fine, and she left under her own power. This was right about the time her neighbor had decided to cook for everyone who was hungry since we couldn’t order a pizza.
Since it was now around four in the morning, I figured he was going to pull some chicken out of the freezer and throw it into the microwave or something. But no, he produced fresh vegetables and pork from his fridge and began chopping away. He even mixed up an Asian style spicy sauce from scratch to go with it. It was crazy. I mean, who the hell makes a home cooked meal at 4am? Apparently Alex does. Twenty minutes or so later, he served the stir fry up on top of some steamed rice in a fancy bowl. He even had chopsticks on hand for us to eat with (to his credit, he is dating a Chinese girl). By this point, though, the girls that were left had passed out on the sofa. So the only people eating were Alex, Joey, and me. Hey, more food for us guys. It was a good thing too, that Alex can cook up some damned good food.
My night finally ended just after 5am when I returned home, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed. As far as birthdays go, Kristi’s wasn’t too shabby. We all went out and had a good time. And most important of all, I didn’t have to baby-sit anyone. Because, let’s be honest here, I’m not exactly world-renowned for my responsibility. I feel for the girl who actually has no choice but to rely on me in her time of need. Seriously.
So it was Friday, the 19th of October, when my friend Kristi turned the big 24. Now, that’s not a big number in any way. It’s not, say… 25, which is a full quarter of a century. Nor is it 40, which is the number that marks the onset of middle age official. It’s not even close to 62, which is the when you can start collecting partial social security benefits. But, 24 is a big enough year to require getting drunk and taking birthday spankings from your friends. The spankings were not my idea. Seriously, I was a good boy. I kept my hands to myself for once.
For the record, Kristi spells her name with a “Y.” Thus, when she writes her name out, it is looks like “Kristy.” But I spell it differently. Mainly, I spell it that way because it makes her sound like a stripper, and that amuses me. She doesn’t seem too fond of it, though. One of these days women are going to realize that their sole purpose for being on this planet is to amuse me. Until they accept that one little fact, they are going to be perpetually inclined to hate and despise me. And that’s ok. I happen to find angry women entertaining. That’s just me.
Now, just because I’m a horrible person and I intentionally make my friend Kristi out to be stripper-esque, that doesn’t mean that I’m a terrible friend. I’m pretty sure I just contradicted myself there, but hey, I’m trying to make a point. Bear with me. Since I am such an amazingly good friend, and such a stand-up guy, I was explicitly put in charge of the whole affair for Friday night. Now if you’re plan for the evening is to drink, drink, and drink, then I’m not exactly the wrong person for the job. Some of my alcoholic feats are legendary. And then again, some of them merely involve me getting drunk, and getting slapped repeatedly. Eh, it happens.
The way I came into the position of leadership for the birthday festivities is quite a story. Well, it’s not a long story, not is it an entirely entertaining one, but it’s a story I’m going to share with you nonetheless. Personally, I find it somewhat amusing.
So, the week before (that would be the 12 of October, if my subtraction skills are up to par) I was out at a bar with Kristi and two other fine gents. Kristi, being a woman, and me being, well, me, I felt the need to say some things that annoyed and possibly upset my good female friend. Now, I’ve spent a good portion of my life learning and perfecting my abilities to piss off the opposite sex, and personally, I’d think it would be shame not to use them. So use them I did. For some strange reason, I don’t think Kristi was flattered by my improper comments. I think it was the fact that she repeatedly used the phrase, “I hate you,” that gave it away.
But in between telling me how me she hated me, which she managed to do repetitively on several separate occasions, she told me that I was in charge of her birthday for the following week. I was supposed to plan where we were going as well as recruit some more people to go out and drink with us. Now, I don’t know why the other two guys in attendance weren’t good enough for her, I mean, they were actually being nice to her, but apparently I was the guy for the job.
So in the intervening week, not only did I manage to negotiate where we would be transmuting our hard earned dollars into liquid, mind-altering substances (and by negotiating, I mean, I asked Kristi where she wanted to go, and then commanded everyone to go there; I call it leadership) but I also was able to garner a fairly decent crowd for the festivities. Ok, so maybe no one really came out because I said so, mostly they wanted to hang out with Kristi. That’s ok with me. Seeing as it was her birthday, the spotlight was most appropriately on her. I was more of a background character.
Now being in charge has its downfalls. It requires you to be responsible. And responsibility means driving all the drunken idiots home after a night on the town. But it was Kristi’s birthday, and I was in charge, so yeah, I think I can be the sober guy for one night, which is exactly what I did. So after a shortened evening on the town (we only hit two bars), we ended up back at Kristi’s apartment complex, hanging out with her neighbors. Up to that point, the evening was rather uneventful. I mean, there were shots taken, some singing, some dancing, and I’m pretty sure someone left a bite mark on Kristi’s ass (and it totally wasn’t me, I was sober, remember), but that’s really nothing to write home about.
So, here we were, seven or eight people, hanging around outside of an apartment at 3am discussing the possibility of ordering a pizza. Now, for those of you who don’t stay up that late, let me fill you in on a little secret: pizza doesn’t exactly get delivered after 2am, even on Fridays. So, bummed out, a few of our party left. Those that stayed ended up inside the neighbor’s apartment watching the recently released Transformers on DVD (good movie, by the way, even if I prefer the original 1986 animated Transformers: The Movie better). I neglected the box-office blockbuster when I found a copy of Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition lying on the kitchen counter. Beyonce was on the cover, ‘nuff said.
I had managed to not piss of Kristi while we were out at the bars. Seeing as how it was her birthday, I thought I could do at least that much for her. Though I have to admit, I accomplished this feat by keeping my mouth shut most of the time we were out. Yet somehow, I finally got on her nerves by looking at pictures of scantily clad women. Well, in all honesty, she was upset because I was slobbering all over the pictures of the beautiful blonde models in the magazine (she doesn’t like blondes for some reason). To be perfectly fair, I wasn’t just ogling the blondes, I was also eye-humping the two-dimensional brunettes as well as the insanely gorgeous Brazilians posing therein. And on a completely unrelated note, I’m saving up all my pennies for a trip to Brazil. Who’s coming with me?
Shortly thereafter, Kristi left to go walk her dogs and get some sleep. She had sobered up quite a bit up to that point, which was refreshing. If she had fallen too far into her drinks, it would have been my responsibility to look after her while she was sick. Like I noted before, I hate being in charge. But she was fine, and she left under her own power. This was right about the time her neighbor had decided to cook for everyone who was hungry since we couldn’t order a pizza.
Since it was now around four in the morning, I figured he was going to pull some chicken out of the freezer and throw it into the microwave or something. But no, he produced fresh vegetables and pork from his fridge and began chopping away. He even mixed up an Asian style spicy sauce from scratch to go with it. It was crazy. I mean, who the hell makes a home cooked meal at 4am? Apparently Alex does. Twenty minutes or so later, he served the stir fry up on top of some steamed rice in a fancy bowl. He even had chopsticks on hand for us to eat with (to his credit, he is dating a Chinese girl). By this point, though, the girls that were left had passed out on the sofa. So the only people eating were Alex, Joey, and me. Hey, more food for us guys. It was a good thing too, that Alex can cook up some damned good food.
My night finally ended just after 5am when I returned home, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed. As far as birthdays go, Kristi’s wasn’t too shabby. We all went out and had a good time. And most important of all, I didn’t have to baby-sit anyone. Because, let’s be honest here, I’m not exactly world-renowned for my responsibility. I feel for the girl who actually has no choice but to rely on me in her time of need. Seriously.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Friend Find, Look Behind
So my friend Anthony is coming over to visit next week. I would say I’m ecstatic to see him. I would also say that it’ll be great catching up on old times since I haven’t had the chance to hang out with him in quite a long while. I would say all that, but let’s be honest, him being here is going to cut in on my Hugh Hefner style parties of which I’m quite renowned. Well, if you take “quite renowned” to mean, “these parties don’t actually exist,” then you’d be correct.
Aside from missing my nonexistent parties, it’s going to be hard to get used to living with someone again, even if it’s only for two weeks. For starters, I’m probably going to have to start wearing pants more often. I hear that’s what the civilized folks are doing these days. Stupid pants are totally overrated. I never really did have much use for them.
Honestly though, I am looking forward to hanging out with Anthony again. He’s a really cool guy, even if he does spend most of his time making fun of me and belittling my lifestyle. That’s ok though, he’s a year older than me so with all the negative comments, he really sounds a lot like my older brother. What can I say? Anthony is pretty much like family to me.
He’ll be here this coming Monday. So this weekend, which will most likely be busy in its own right, I’ll have to make some time to clean out the bathroom, which will most likely require an industrial sized cask of bleach to finish. It’s been a while. Then I’ll have to clean out the dirty dishes in the sink, something I avoid doing almost as much as I avoid meaningful relationships. I should probably also pick up all of the dirty clothes scattered throughout my apartment. I’m not entirely sure why or how I got a pair of used boxers on top of the entertainment center in the living room… but I’m pretty sure they need to be removed. Eh, I’ll get around to it eventually.
Anthony’s coming into town so he can do a stint at teaching Drivers Ed, which apparently pays well when you’re used to a public high school teacher’s salary like he is. Not sure if I could teach public high school myself. I mean, my mother does it, and she seems to do just fine, but I don’t exactly have the attention span for it myself. I’d probably feel the need to physically abuse my students, because well, they’re high schoolers, and high school kids are by definition stupid. Hey I was there once, I remember what I was like.
That’s not to say that I wasn’t an idiot in high school myself. I was. In fact, I’m still an idiot now. But that’s okay, I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve also had some minor success in being able to hide my latent idiocy from a select portion of the female population. Honestly, there are some girls out there who actually enjoy being in my company. I don’t exactly understand it, it does have a tendency to baffle the mind. But hey, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when she’s got boobs that I could be staring at instead.
But back to the matter at hand. I have approximately eleven days (or somewhere close to that) where I will once again be sharing my living quarters with a roommate. Now this shouldn’t be much of a problem seeing as how I lived with Anthony for two years while in college. But those were different days. Back then I drank obsessively, did my best to piss off women, and played excessive amounts of Nintendo. Huh, come to think of it, that really isn’t much different than what I do now.
Ok, so maybe I’m still the same in many respects, but I have gotten used to living all on my lonesome these past 18 months or so. Having to share a bathroom (not to mention the hot water) isn’t something I’ve been comfortable with in a long, long time. It shouldn’t be too hard to cope with, I mean, I did grow up with an older brother, how could Anthony be any worse? At least I won’t have to go hiding the cold root beer in the vegetable crisper just so he won’t drink the last one. Yeah, I had to resort to the friggin vegetable cripser so I could actually have a refreshing beverage when I wanted it. It may have been tough growing up at times, but I adapted. I did survive.
Now I’m not here to say that my brother was a mean overlord during my childhood, or that Anthony was an overbearing fraternity brother, because they most certainly were not. I have used a literary device called hyperbole, which is a gross exaggeration used in this case to promote humor. And now that I’ve explained it, I’ve killed the joke. Seriously though, I did hide bottles of IBC Root Beer and even some Cherry Coke in the vegetable crisper to keep them from my brother. He always drank the last bottle and never bothered to restock the fridge. He’s just an ass like that.
So, like I said before, I’m really looking forward to seeing my friend Anthony again. I’m not exactly sure why though. I mean, after going over everything above, why should I be excited? It might have something to do with the fact that whenever I get together with old college buddies we end up drinking, a lot. Not that I need to hang out with old friends to drink, because I certainly don’t. But I’m always up for an excuse for more alcohol. I just have to figure out who’s going to be the designated driver. Well, I could try to convince Anthony’s girlfriend to come over too. She has some practical experience driving our worthless drunken behinds around all night.
Oh, and for those of you not keeping track, the new Transformers Movie comes out in less than a month. Four weeks from today, to be precise. I firmly believe that it is my civic duty to remind you of that each and every week. In celebration of the 1980’s greatest franchise (and quite possibly the greatest franchise of all time), I’m going to leave you with a quote each week. I’m sure that the more astute of you dear readers out there will recognize these quotes immediate. For those of you who don’t, well let’s just say that I find you lacking in your education.
“Listen Ironhide, we don’t have enough energon cubes to power a full scale assault. Ready the shuttle for launch!… Now all we need is a little energon and a lot of luck.”
-Optimus Prime
Aside from missing my nonexistent parties, it’s going to be hard to get used to living with someone again, even if it’s only for two weeks. For starters, I’m probably going to have to start wearing pants more often. I hear that’s what the civilized folks are doing these days. Stupid pants are totally overrated. I never really did have much use for them.
Honestly though, I am looking forward to hanging out with Anthony again. He’s a really cool guy, even if he does spend most of his time making fun of me and belittling my lifestyle. That’s ok though, he’s a year older than me so with all the negative comments, he really sounds a lot like my older brother. What can I say? Anthony is pretty much like family to me.
He’ll be here this coming Monday. So this weekend, which will most likely be busy in its own right, I’ll have to make some time to clean out the bathroom, which will most likely require an industrial sized cask of bleach to finish. It’s been a while. Then I’ll have to clean out the dirty dishes in the sink, something I avoid doing almost as much as I avoid meaningful relationships. I should probably also pick up all of the dirty clothes scattered throughout my apartment. I’m not entirely sure why or how I got a pair of used boxers on top of the entertainment center in the living room… but I’m pretty sure they need to be removed. Eh, I’ll get around to it eventually.
Anthony’s coming into town so he can do a stint at teaching Drivers Ed, which apparently pays well when you’re used to a public high school teacher’s salary like he is. Not sure if I could teach public high school myself. I mean, my mother does it, and she seems to do just fine, but I don’t exactly have the attention span for it myself. I’d probably feel the need to physically abuse my students, because well, they’re high schoolers, and high school kids are by definition stupid. Hey I was there once, I remember what I was like.
That’s not to say that I wasn’t an idiot in high school myself. I was. In fact, I’m still an idiot now. But that’s okay, I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve also had some minor success in being able to hide my latent idiocy from a select portion of the female population. Honestly, there are some girls out there who actually enjoy being in my company. I don’t exactly understand it, it does have a tendency to baffle the mind. But hey, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when she’s got boobs that I could be staring at instead.
But back to the matter at hand. I have approximately eleven days (or somewhere close to that) where I will once again be sharing my living quarters with a roommate. Now this shouldn’t be much of a problem seeing as how I lived with Anthony for two years while in college. But those were different days. Back then I drank obsessively, did my best to piss off women, and played excessive amounts of Nintendo. Huh, come to think of it, that really isn’t much different than what I do now.
Ok, so maybe I’m still the same in many respects, but I have gotten used to living all on my lonesome these past 18 months or so. Having to share a bathroom (not to mention the hot water) isn’t something I’ve been comfortable with in a long, long time. It shouldn’t be too hard to cope with, I mean, I did grow up with an older brother, how could Anthony be any worse? At least I won’t have to go hiding the cold root beer in the vegetable crisper just so he won’t drink the last one. Yeah, I had to resort to the friggin vegetable cripser so I could actually have a refreshing beverage when I wanted it. It may have been tough growing up at times, but I adapted. I did survive.
Now I’m not here to say that my brother was a mean overlord during my childhood, or that Anthony was an overbearing fraternity brother, because they most certainly were not. I have used a literary device called hyperbole, which is a gross exaggeration used in this case to promote humor. And now that I’ve explained it, I’ve killed the joke. Seriously though, I did hide bottles of IBC Root Beer and even some Cherry Coke in the vegetable crisper to keep them from my brother. He always drank the last bottle and never bothered to restock the fridge. He’s just an ass like that.
So, like I said before, I’m really looking forward to seeing my friend Anthony again. I’m not exactly sure why though. I mean, after going over everything above, why should I be excited? It might have something to do with the fact that whenever I get together with old college buddies we end up drinking, a lot. Not that I need to hang out with old friends to drink, because I certainly don’t. But I’m always up for an excuse for more alcohol. I just have to figure out who’s going to be the designated driver. Well, I could try to convince Anthony’s girlfriend to come over too. She has some practical experience driving our worthless drunken behinds around all night.
Oh, and for those of you not keeping track, the new Transformers Movie comes out in less than a month. Four weeks from today, to be precise. I firmly believe that it is my civic duty to remind you of that each and every week. In celebration of the 1980’s greatest franchise (and quite possibly the greatest franchise of all time), I’m going to leave you with a quote each week. I’m sure that the more astute of you dear readers out there will recognize these quotes immediate. For those of you who don’t, well let’s just say that I find you lacking in your education.
“Listen Ironhide, we don’t have enough energon cubes to power a full scale assault. Ready the shuttle for launch!… Now all we need is a little energon and a lot of luck.”
-Optimus Prime
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
It’s Hard to Rely on My Own Good Senses
Last week, a wonderful thing happened. Well, it wasn’t as wonderful as it was bothersome and annoying. I had two old friends come over for a visit. Now I don’t want to sound like a jerk or some really crappy friend, but honestly, it’s sad when I end up being the responsible one in the group. I don’t think I’ve ever been known for my responsibility. But hey, stranger things have happened.
I just want to point out that both my friends are just awesome people and I loved every minute of their stay. Well every minute except when they were waking me up early in the morning, using up all my hot water, changing the channel on my TV, and taking up all the space in my refrigerator. But you know what, that’s ok. You have to be willing to put up with some abuse from your friends now and then. I mean after all, they are my friends.
Bill came down from New Jersey so he could do some work with the UNC girls soccer team. I don’t know why you’d want to drive that far just to do some unpaid work, but then again, I’m the lazy type. Michael randomly came up from a dive shop at the beach for a little down time. Honestly, I think he just wanted to check out all the college girls on Franklin Street. Now, I’m not mad that Michael decided to come visit at the last second, I’m mad that he didn’t bring his incredibly attractive older sister with him.
Luckily I have a few extra keys to the apartment, so the guys could come and go as they pleased without bothering me to let them in all the time. And for the most part, the week went by pretty smoothly. Needless to say, we played a lot of Guitar Hero. And honestly, at this point I’ve run out of words to describe how awesome that game is. Both guys were immediately taken by the game and we all spent many hours playing it. Of course, I showed off my considerable skill and outplayed the both of them, doing my best to squash any hopes they might have of ever being as good as me. I’m just a nice guy like that.
The week wasn’t all taken up by video games. We did manage to make our way out to the bars one night. It was nice to throw back a good beer and reminisce about old times. The musings bring back warm and fuzzy memories: like getting slapped by three sorority girls at 2:30 in the morning while I was trying to leave a bar (Ah, good times!). But alcohol and the passage of time tend to loosen people tongues, and I learned a few things that I was not entirely aware of back in college.
Apparently, every guy I knew had a crush on a female friend of mine. Not that I can blame then, she was a very attract and very sweet girl. I’m just glad none of the guys acted on it. Well, to be honest, one guy did, and I ended up having to deal with both my guy friend and my female friend as I wound up in the middle of whatever the heck was going on between them. I guess it could have been worse, but still, if I wasn’t the one to have fun with a girl, why should I have to deal with all the backlash? It just doesn’t seem fair to me.
It really is interesting to learn about all of this stuff. I had three fairly good female friends that I hung out with back in college: Ashley, Alison, and Amy. Yes I know, their names all start with the letter A. Try keeping track of them after about your fourth beer. Let me assure you, it’s not easy. Luckily, names have never really been that important to me. After awhile, I gave up trying to keep track of who was who and just start pointing and saying “Hey you, grab me another beer.” Simple and effective, just the way I like it, although I can’t say the same for the three girls. For some strange reason, girls expect you to know their names and always get it right. What’s up with that?
Now I know I may sound cruel to you, but stay with me here, because there’s a method to my madness. The two guys that visited me last week were both single, which is cool because we did the single guy thing. Mainly, that involves drinking and playing video games, and we threw in some Monday Night Football for good measure. But it’s the guys who have girlfriends who really like to keep me around. See, I have a really bad habit of saying things that girls find distasteful. And for me, that’s ok, I’ve come to terms with it. Luckily, I’m able to rein myself in enough in these situations so that I don’t cause any relationship problems for my friends. Let’s be honest, I cause enough problems for myself, I don’t need to create any for others. This does have an interesting side effect though. My natural abhorrence of civility makes me look pretty bad in front of girls. However, a guy sitting right next to me who isn’t being nearly as bad as I am tends to look like a pretty upstanding guy by contrast.
In fact, when one of my old housemates would get into a fight with his girlfriend, she would usually come downstairs and complain to the rest of us about her relationship issues. Normally, I would kindly suggest in the most statesman-like manner that if she did his laundry more often, she wouldn’t have these problems. After that, she would get so mad and me that by the time her boyfriend made it downstairs she would have forgotten all about being distraught with him, and they would go off happily ever after. I have been party to several scenarios very similar to the above, and just about every outcome is the same. That’s me, Jeff Privette: making you look better by comparison since 2001.
Speaking of girls, when I got back home from my hockey game on Wednesday night, I expected Michael to have a few girls waiting for me at my apartment. Unfortunately, he didn’t come through for me, which was somewhat upsetting. Girls have always flocked to Michael, I don’t know why; it’s just some sort of special ability he has. I’ve tried to copy it, but for some reason when girls herd around Michael, it does absolutely nothing for my own romantic life. It’s funny how that works out. Luckily there’s an upside to that. Like when that creepy girl was hitting on the three of us Tuesday night at the bar, I just pointed her towards Michael, and then made my swift escape to the downstairs portion of the bar. I could have left the place entirely, but then I couldn’t have gotten myself another beer. And that would have been a travesty.
But now I’m home all alone again. There’s no one snoring on my sofa or using my beard trimmer and neglecting to clean it off. It’s nice to have some peace and quiet again. For one thing, it’s hard for me to write and be creative when there are a couple of goobers playing Guitar Hero and totally messing up I Love Rock and Roll. Seriously, what rock and roll fan messes up a classic like that? However, they’re out of my hair now, and I can get back to writing again. Specifically, I can write an entire article making fun of them. Thanks guys.
I just want to point out that both my friends are just awesome people and I loved every minute of their stay. Well every minute except when they were waking me up early in the morning, using up all my hot water, changing the channel on my TV, and taking up all the space in my refrigerator. But you know what, that’s ok. You have to be willing to put up with some abuse from your friends now and then. I mean after all, they are my friends.
Bill came down from New Jersey so he could do some work with the UNC girls soccer team. I don’t know why you’d want to drive that far just to do some unpaid work, but then again, I’m the lazy type. Michael randomly came up from a dive shop at the beach for a little down time. Honestly, I think he just wanted to check out all the college girls on Franklin Street. Now, I’m not mad that Michael decided to come visit at the last second, I’m mad that he didn’t bring his incredibly attractive older sister with him.
Luckily I have a few extra keys to the apartment, so the guys could come and go as they pleased without bothering me to let them in all the time. And for the most part, the week went by pretty smoothly. Needless to say, we played a lot of Guitar Hero. And honestly, at this point I’ve run out of words to describe how awesome that game is. Both guys were immediately taken by the game and we all spent many hours playing it. Of course, I showed off my considerable skill and outplayed the both of them, doing my best to squash any hopes they might have of ever being as good as me. I’m just a nice guy like that.
The week wasn’t all taken up by video games. We did manage to make our way out to the bars one night. It was nice to throw back a good beer and reminisce about old times. The musings bring back warm and fuzzy memories: like getting slapped by three sorority girls at 2:30 in the morning while I was trying to leave a bar (Ah, good times!). But alcohol and the passage of time tend to loosen people tongues, and I learned a few things that I was not entirely aware of back in college.
Apparently, every guy I knew had a crush on a female friend of mine. Not that I can blame then, she was a very attract and very sweet girl. I’m just glad none of the guys acted on it. Well, to be honest, one guy did, and I ended up having to deal with both my guy friend and my female friend as I wound up in the middle of whatever the heck was going on between them. I guess it could have been worse, but still, if I wasn’t the one to have fun with a girl, why should I have to deal with all the backlash? It just doesn’t seem fair to me.
It really is interesting to learn about all of this stuff. I had three fairly good female friends that I hung out with back in college: Ashley, Alison, and Amy. Yes I know, their names all start with the letter A. Try keeping track of them after about your fourth beer. Let me assure you, it’s not easy. Luckily, names have never really been that important to me. After awhile, I gave up trying to keep track of who was who and just start pointing and saying “Hey you, grab me another beer.” Simple and effective, just the way I like it, although I can’t say the same for the three girls. For some strange reason, girls expect you to know their names and always get it right. What’s up with that?
Now I know I may sound cruel to you, but stay with me here, because there’s a method to my madness. The two guys that visited me last week were both single, which is cool because we did the single guy thing. Mainly, that involves drinking and playing video games, and we threw in some Monday Night Football for good measure. But it’s the guys who have girlfriends who really like to keep me around. See, I have a really bad habit of saying things that girls find distasteful. And for me, that’s ok, I’ve come to terms with it. Luckily, I’m able to rein myself in enough in these situations so that I don’t cause any relationship problems for my friends. Let’s be honest, I cause enough problems for myself, I don’t need to create any for others. This does have an interesting side effect though. My natural abhorrence of civility makes me look pretty bad in front of girls. However, a guy sitting right next to me who isn’t being nearly as bad as I am tends to look like a pretty upstanding guy by contrast.
In fact, when one of my old housemates would get into a fight with his girlfriend, she would usually come downstairs and complain to the rest of us about her relationship issues. Normally, I would kindly suggest in the most statesman-like manner that if she did his laundry more often, she wouldn’t have these problems. After that, she would get so mad and me that by the time her boyfriend made it downstairs she would have forgotten all about being distraught with him, and they would go off happily ever after. I have been party to several scenarios very similar to the above, and just about every outcome is the same. That’s me, Jeff Privette: making you look better by comparison since 2001.
Speaking of girls, when I got back home from my hockey game on Wednesday night, I expected Michael to have a few girls waiting for me at my apartment. Unfortunately, he didn’t come through for me, which was somewhat upsetting. Girls have always flocked to Michael, I don’t know why; it’s just some sort of special ability he has. I’ve tried to copy it, but for some reason when girls herd around Michael, it does absolutely nothing for my own romantic life. It’s funny how that works out. Luckily there’s an upside to that. Like when that creepy girl was hitting on the three of us Tuesday night at the bar, I just pointed her towards Michael, and then made my swift escape to the downstairs portion of the bar. I could have left the place entirely, but then I couldn’t have gotten myself another beer. And that would have been a travesty.
But now I’m home all alone again. There’s no one snoring on my sofa or using my beard trimmer and neglecting to clean it off. It’s nice to have some peace and quiet again. For one thing, it’s hard for me to write and be creative when there are a couple of goobers playing Guitar Hero and totally messing up I Love Rock and Roll. Seriously, what rock and roll fan messes up a classic like that? However, they’re out of my hair now, and I can get back to writing again. Specifically, I can write an entire article making fun of them. Thanks guys.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Wild, Wild Horses Couldn't Keep Me Away (This is the conclusion to the story I began last week. Enjoy.)“
No, they’re horses,” I replied while watching three small horses walk up from the beach and into our camping area. Now this didn’t come as much of a shock to either of us since Shackleford Island is somewhat famous for being home to wild ponies. The ponies were left there a few hundred years ago by the Spanish and they survived on the island as wild horses, up to this point. Now I’ll have to admit that I was a little bit anxious about the horses. I didn’t want them coming up and going through our gear or food in the middle of the night. And the horses did look rather heavy, I was sure if one stepped on me while I was sleeping that it would hurt, and it would hurt a lot.
But my tent mate didn’t share my worries. In fact, it was quite the opposite, he was overcome with excitement and wonder at the sight of the wild beasts. He quickly snapped a picture of ponies and quietly slid out of the tent. He really wanted to pet them for some strange reason. Maybe he had some wild fantasy of riding a pony barebacked down the beach with only the light from the moon and the stars to guide him. Or maybe he really wanted to catch rabies from a wild animal, honestly, I just don’t know. But the horses would have none of it. They had boldly and quietly walked over towards our encampment to see who we were and what was going on. Now that Michael was trying to touch them, they simply turned around and walked off not paying us any more attention. They were acting like they were far too cool to acknowledge us any longer. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for them. It was like high school all over again.
Finally, we lay down for the night. It was then that the refried beans made themselves know, and they were absolutely horrible. The noxious gas filled our tent and almost made me pass out from a lack of oxygen. I would have gone outside to get some fresh air except for the flesh-eating zombie bugs that awaited me outside. Take my advice: do not bring Mexican food on camping trips, ever. But I had finally made it into the realm of sleep when the neighing of a nearby horse woke me up with a start. My pulse began racing as I scanned through the mesh of the tent looking for the horse that I could have sworn was standing right next to us. As it turned out, sound travels quite well on a quiet night and the beast was about thirty yards away at the time. He neighed a few more times before trotting off to bother someone else. I’m not sure if he was marking his territory or doing his best to scare us, but he definitely succeeded in the latter.
Michael and I watched for the pony who had so suddenly woken us up for a few minutes before retiring to bed once again. Of course, I had some trouble sleeping on the ground, I didn’t realize that sand made for such a horrible sleeping surface. You might be wondering why I was sleeping on the ground when I brought along an air mattress. Well, this is a good story. When we arrived at our embarkation point earlier that day and began loading up the kayaks we realized that Michael’s sleeping bag wasn’t designed to be squished into small spaces, unlike mine. So we didn’t have the room for it and we resolved to leave it behind. Now Michael was upset since he left his blanket back at his house on a last minute decision. He has a habit of making last minute decisions that don’t turn out right. So, he packed his only towel for his use as a bed sheet. Now, since he had nothing to put between himself and the ground, and I at least had a sleeping bag, I was so incredibly considerate to allow him to use my air mattress, which he said made things much more comfortable. He repaid my kindness by letting loose a series of farts that released the foul toxic smell from his refried beans nearly chocking me to death. Thanks Michael.
The next day I awoke with a sore back and sore sides from the harsh ground. But complaining is for wienies, so I left it at that. We had a very light breakfast that morning and packed up the campsite early. We made the ten minute hike back to the other side of the island and found our kayaks right in the place we left them. Now a quick note: always remember to pull your kayak up to the tree line, this way you can assure the tide doesn’t come in and whisk your kayak away leaving you stranded. I think that’s pretty important to remember. Luckily, Michael and I had remembered to do that. So we loaded our gear back into the kayaks and pushed our craft back into the water.
Since it was early Sunday morning still, we decided to paddle around the island for a while and basically just goof off until we headed back in. While paddling around the island we came across another group of horses. Michael once again, jumped out of his kayak and approached the majestic beasts. And once again, the ponies were far too cool to be seen socializing with us, and they turned and walked off slowly in the opposite direction. Well, damn.
Back in the kayaks we paddled around the island watching the seagulls sweep into the water and pluck out their breakfast. The sea life in those shallow waters was actually quite active. There were small fish, conks, hermit crabs, fiddler crabs, sand dollars, and many other living creatures whose names I am not familiar with. Hey, what did you expect, I’m a camper, not a zoologist (definition zoologist: person who knows the names of lots of different forms of life with no applicable skills to serve society).
On the way back we once again tried to cut through the wetlands, but this time we wanted to zigzag our way through the middle of them. Part of the way through my kayak got stuck. I quickly realized that a squid was holding me in place and would not let me go. The only things I had to combat the menacing squid were my oar and my wit. Luckily my wit is as sharp as a razor and it stings with the ferocity of the deadliest hornet. I quickly pointed behind the squid and asked “What is that?” When the squid looked behind him, I smashed him in the head with my oar and quickly paddled away and back out of the marshes. Once again I proved that Darwinism has a way of selecting against lesser and more gullible intelligences.
Well, either I was attacked by a squid, or it was low tide and my kayak got stuck on the silt bottom of the wetlands. I’ll let you decide how I got stuck. Either way, Michael and I retraced our path and left the wetlands. At one point we even had to get out of the boats and walk across some seaweed to get to deeper waters. But it was worth it, because once on the other side we spotted some dolphins not 300 yards away. We quickly paddled out to greet them. But the dolphins were moving away from us, much in the same way the horses had avoided us. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for the dolphins either. But still, it was a sight to see the dolphins swimming among the shallow waters within the sound.
Finally we turned our boats to our destination and went back home. All in all, we were gone for about 24 hours. Not exactly a grand adventure, but it was a great trip nonetheless. Although, all we had to show for it were a handful of pictures, about 100 bug bites each, and for me a not so pleasant sun burn. Hey, I’m white; the sun isn’t exactly my best friend. But the memories will last a lifetime for me, and I can’t wait to do it again. And as always we followed the camper’s adage to take only pictures and to leave only footprints. Good stuff.
So, what did we learn from this weekend? Number one: chicks who own kayaks are awesome. Number two: do not, under any circumstances, feed your tent mate refried beans, or any beans for that matter. Number three: always remember to bring a knife of some sort while camping, even a Swiss Army Knife can prove invaluable in many situations. Number four: do not leave your tent door open, you only invite in the most bloodthirsty creatures of the night, mosquitoes. Number 5: ponies are way too cool to hang out with me. And number 6: I don’t care about the indigenous animals or other dangers of the trip; wild horses couldn’t keep me away from having adventures in the great outdoors.
But my tent mate didn’t share my worries. In fact, it was quite the opposite, he was overcome with excitement and wonder at the sight of the wild beasts. He quickly snapped a picture of ponies and quietly slid out of the tent. He really wanted to pet them for some strange reason. Maybe he had some wild fantasy of riding a pony barebacked down the beach with only the light from the moon and the stars to guide him. Or maybe he really wanted to catch rabies from a wild animal, honestly, I just don’t know. But the horses would have none of it. They had boldly and quietly walked over towards our encampment to see who we were and what was going on. Now that Michael was trying to touch them, they simply turned around and walked off not paying us any more attention. They were acting like they were far too cool to acknowledge us any longer. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for them. It was like high school all over again.
Finally, we lay down for the night. It was then that the refried beans made themselves know, and they were absolutely horrible. The noxious gas filled our tent and almost made me pass out from a lack of oxygen. I would have gone outside to get some fresh air except for the flesh-eating zombie bugs that awaited me outside. Take my advice: do not bring Mexican food on camping trips, ever. But I had finally made it into the realm of sleep when the neighing of a nearby horse woke me up with a start. My pulse began racing as I scanned through the mesh of the tent looking for the horse that I could have sworn was standing right next to us. As it turned out, sound travels quite well on a quiet night and the beast was about thirty yards away at the time. He neighed a few more times before trotting off to bother someone else. I’m not sure if he was marking his territory or doing his best to scare us, but he definitely succeeded in the latter.
Michael and I watched for the pony who had so suddenly woken us up for a few minutes before retiring to bed once again. Of course, I had some trouble sleeping on the ground, I didn’t realize that sand made for such a horrible sleeping surface. You might be wondering why I was sleeping on the ground when I brought along an air mattress. Well, this is a good story. When we arrived at our embarkation point earlier that day and began loading up the kayaks we realized that Michael’s sleeping bag wasn’t designed to be squished into small spaces, unlike mine. So we didn’t have the room for it and we resolved to leave it behind. Now Michael was upset since he left his blanket back at his house on a last minute decision. He has a habit of making last minute decisions that don’t turn out right. So, he packed his only towel for his use as a bed sheet. Now, since he had nothing to put between himself and the ground, and I at least had a sleeping bag, I was so incredibly considerate to allow him to use my air mattress, which he said made things much more comfortable. He repaid my kindness by letting loose a series of farts that released the foul toxic smell from his refried beans nearly chocking me to death. Thanks Michael.
The next day I awoke with a sore back and sore sides from the harsh ground. But complaining is for wienies, so I left it at that. We had a very light breakfast that morning and packed up the campsite early. We made the ten minute hike back to the other side of the island and found our kayaks right in the place we left them. Now a quick note: always remember to pull your kayak up to the tree line, this way you can assure the tide doesn’t come in and whisk your kayak away leaving you stranded. I think that’s pretty important to remember. Luckily, Michael and I had remembered to do that. So we loaded our gear back into the kayaks and pushed our craft back into the water.
Since it was early Sunday morning still, we decided to paddle around the island for a while and basically just goof off until we headed back in. While paddling around the island we came across another group of horses. Michael once again, jumped out of his kayak and approached the majestic beasts. And once again, the ponies were far too cool to be seen socializing with us, and they turned and walked off slowly in the opposite direction. Well, damn.
Back in the kayaks we paddled around the island watching the seagulls sweep into the water and pluck out their breakfast. The sea life in those shallow waters was actually quite active. There were small fish, conks, hermit crabs, fiddler crabs, sand dollars, and many other living creatures whose names I am not familiar with. Hey, what did you expect, I’m a camper, not a zoologist (definition zoologist: person who knows the names of lots of different forms of life with no applicable skills to serve society).
On the way back we once again tried to cut through the wetlands, but this time we wanted to zigzag our way through the middle of them. Part of the way through my kayak got stuck. I quickly realized that a squid was holding me in place and would not let me go. The only things I had to combat the menacing squid were my oar and my wit. Luckily my wit is as sharp as a razor and it stings with the ferocity of the deadliest hornet. I quickly pointed behind the squid and asked “What is that?” When the squid looked behind him, I smashed him in the head with my oar and quickly paddled away and back out of the marshes. Once again I proved that Darwinism has a way of selecting against lesser and more gullible intelligences.
Well, either I was attacked by a squid, or it was low tide and my kayak got stuck on the silt bottom of the wetlands. I’ll let you decide how I got stuck. Either way, Michael and I retraced our path and left the wetlands. At one point we even had to get out of the boats and walk across some seaweed to get to deeper waters. But it was worth it, because once on the other side we spotted some dolphins not 300 yards away. We quickly paddled out to greet them. But the dolphins were moving away from us, much in the same way the horses had avoided us. Apparently we weren’t cool enough for the dolphins either. But still, it was a sight to see the dolphins swimming among the shallow waters within the sound.
Finally we turned our boats to our destination and went back home. All in all, we were gone for about 24 hours. Not exactly a grand adventure, but it was a great trip nonetheless. Although, all we had to show for it were a handful of pictures, about 100 bug bites each, and for me a not so pleasant sun burn. Hey, I’m white; the sun isn’t exactly my best friend. But the memories will last a lifetime for me, and I can’t wait to do it again. And as always we followed the camper’s adage to take only pictures and to leave only footprints. Good stuff.
So, what did we learn from this weekend? Number one: chicks who own kayaks are awesome. Number two: do not, under any circumstances, feed your tent mate refried beans, or any beans for that matter. Number three: always remember to bring a knife of some sort while camping, even a Swiss Army Knife can prove invaluable in many situations. Number four: do not leave your tent door open, you only invite in the most bloodthirsty creatures of the night, mosquitoes. Number 5: ponies are way too cool to hang out with me. And number 6: I don’t care about the indigenous animals or other dangers of the trip; wild horses couldn’t keep me away from having adventures in the great outdoors.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Wild Horses Couldn’t Keep Me Away
So I had big plans this past weekend. A couple of friends and I were supposed to head up into the mountains, pitch a tent, and spend a few days with nature. We were even planning on doing some white water rafting on Saturday. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Everyone decided to back out on me and that left only me and my friend Michael left.
Now don’t get me wrong, Michael is a good guy, but I don’t really think spending that much time alone with him, away from civilization, is a good idea. It’s just not my thing. But since I had the whole weekend blocked off with no plans anyway, I decided to go visit Michael at the beach, where he is spending his summer. Now the one thing to know about Michael is that whenever I’m around him, girls always seem to be much more interested in him than they are of me. And this is a good thing. I went down to the beach to drink, not to meet girls. Girls just distract you from the booze.
But, as luck would have it, Michael had another idea in mind. He figured out that we could borrow some kayaks from some of his friends, paddle out to an island nearby, and camp out there for a night. Now that’s the kind of adventure I was looking forward to for the weekend! So we resolved to get an early start on Saturday so we could get everything together and head out.
Of course, being the lazy bums that we tend to be, we didn’t quite make it out of bed until almost noon. And we still weren’t prepared for the trip. So we set out to collect the gear we needed. I already had a sleeping bag, a camping air mattress, a tent, and some food. Really, all we needed was to requisition some kayaks. As it turned out, both kayaks we borrowed were owned by girls. I don’t know about you, but it seems a bit odd to me that two rough and competent woodsmen would be begging girls to borrow some gear. But hey, the girls were cool and loaded us up with everything we needed (apparently we needed life jackets to protect us and oars to actually make the kayaks move, go figure).
So, after getting everything together, and listening to Michael moan and groan as he tried to decide what to bring with him (I was more or less already packed when I left home) we finally got both kayaks loaded up and we were ready to leave. We could have just taken one kayak that fitted both of us, but that would have required teamwork and cooperation, two skills that we have a tendency to lack. It was almost 3pm by the time took off from the public boat ramp in Beaufort, North Carolina. Better late than never, I guess.
I must have made the comment about a hundred times on Saturday, but the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I could not have asked for a better day. 84 degrees, beautiful blue sky, very little cloud cover, almost no humidity, and a nice gentle breeze keeping things cool. It was just perfect weather for our little expedition. And there were plenty of other people out enjoying the day as well.
Now neither Michael nor I have ever done anything like this before. Sure I’ve been camping plenty of times and have hiked on many, many mountain trails. But this was the first time I ever used water transportation to reach my campsite. But hey, I’ve always said experience was for wienies, or at least that’s what I was telling myself when we embarked on this trip. Luckily, this was a great first trip to take. The outer islands shield the inner waterways that we were paddling over from most of the oceans waves and currents. The only thing we had to worry about were the wakes from speed boats zipping by. So we favored somewhat more shallow waters where the boats with outboard motors couldn’t tread.
So we took our time paddling along until we reached the wetlands area about halfway to our destination. We cut through the edge of the wetlands, taking some time out to watch the diverse birdlife that inhabited the area and enjoying the extremely calm waters the wetlands provided. Then we pressed onward. It does take a lot of work to paddle your way through the ocean, and sometimes it seems like we weren’t making any progress at all, but in all honesty, it didn’t take too long for us to reach our destination: Shackleford Island. In all, our water journey took less than two hours.
After a short hike to the ocean side of the island, which was far less populated by the boaters, we found a suitable site and set up camp. After pitching the tent and wandering around taking in the natural wonder of the ocean and the island, we decided it was time for dinner. For our evening meal, I brought along some MRE’s. That stands for “Meal Ready to Eat.” Yes, yes I know, “Ready to Eat Meal” makes much more sense but then the abbreviation would be REM and there’s already a band called REM. And you know the military, they have a thing for acronyms.
Say what you want about the US military, but when it comes to food, they know what they’re doing with the MRE. The entire meal comes enclosed in heavy waterproof packaging, so there was no need for us to waste waterproof bags to hold the food. Each packet contains one main course, a side dish, some form of crackers and spread, a high calorie dessert (M&M’s, Snickers, etc), a spoon, and a small bag of napkins, wet naps, matches, and other useful things. And on top of it all, they cook themselves, so there was no need to bring a camping stove and propane on the trip. Just add water, and watch your food cook. No seriously, you add water, and it cooks. It’s like dehydrated heat. And yes, I know that sounds stupid.
While eating dinner, I realized I made mistakes number one and two for the trip. Number one, I forgot to bring along a knife. You should always, ALWAYS bring a knife when camping. Opening up a heavily sealed waterproof MRE without the aid of a sharp implement is not an easy thing to do, trust me. A knife is a basic tool that can be useful under many situations, so always bring one into the wilderness with you. The second mistake was when I gave my refried beans to Michael to eat. I probably should not have brought the Beef Enchilada MRE on the trip to begin with, but giving your tent mate beans is a bad, extremely bad idea.
So after a healthy dinner meant to sustain a warrior in combat, we cleaned up and got inside the tent. It wasn’t because we were tired or anything, we just wanted to get away from the bugs. And these weren’t just any bugs, they were mutant, bloodthirsty, communist bugs. The things were basically eating us alive. And of course, I made another mistake. I left the tent door open after we set it up. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that allowed all manner of bugs and mosquitoes and other vampiric creatures of the night to inhabit our sleeping area. So we spent the first twenty minutes inside the tent killing off every bug we could. Unfortunately we could not get them all, and I’m sure the bugs had more than their fill for the night. I have the welts all over my arms and legs that still itch today thanks to them. And believe me, the itching never, ever goes away no matter how much I scratch, or how little I scratch it.
We had just finished our little attempt at bug genocide when Michael noticed something through the screen door of the tent. “Hey look, people,” he said. I turned to look and through the dim light of the setting sun slipping through the horizon, I noticed that those weren’t people.(To be continued next week.)
Now don’t get me wrong, Michael is a good guy, but I don’t really think spending that much time alone with him, away from civilization, is a good idea. It’s just not my thing. But since I had the whole weekend blocked off with no plans anyway, I decided to go visit Michael at the beach, where he is spending his summer. Now the one thing to know about Michael is that whenever I’m around him, girls always seem to be much more interested in him than they are of me. And this is a good thing. I went down to the beach to drink, not to meet girls. Girls just distract you from the booze.
But, as luck would have it, Michael had another idea in mind. He figured out that we could borrow some kayaks from some of his friends, paddle out to an island nearby, and camp out there for a night. Now that’s the kind of adventure I was looking forward to for the weekend! So we resolved to get an early start on Saturday so we could get everything together and head out.
Of course, being the lazy bums that we tend to be, we didn’t quite make it out of bed until almost noon. And we still weren’t prepared for the trip. So we set out to collect the gear we needed. I already had a sleeping bag, a camping air mattress, a tent, and some food. Really, all we needed was to requisition some kayaks. As it turned out, both kayaks we borrowed were owned by girls. I don’t know about you, but it seems a bit odd to me that two rough and competent woodsmen would be begging girls to borrow some gear. But hey, the girls were cool and loaded us up with everything we needed (apparently we needed life jackets to protect us and oars to actually make the kayaks move, go figure).
So, after getting everything together, and listening to Michael moan and groan as he tried to decide what to bring with him (I was more or less already packed when I left home) we finally got both kayaks loaded up and we were ready to leave. We could have just taken one kayak that fitted both of us, but that would have required teamwork and cooperation, two skills that we have a tendency to lack. It was almost 3pm by the time took off from the public boat ramp in Beaufort, North Carolina. Better late than never, I guess.
I must have made the comment about a hundred times on Saturday, but the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I could not have asked for a better day. 84 degrees, beautiful blue sky, very little cloud cover, almost no humidity, and a nice gentle breeze keeping things cool. It was just perfect weather for our little expedition. And there were plenty of other people out enjoying the day as well.
Now neither Michael nor I have ever done anything like this before. Sure I’ve been camping plenty of times and have hiked on many, many mountain trails. But this was the first time I ever used water transportation to reach my campsite. But hey, I’ve always said experience was for wienies, or at least that’s what I was telling myself when we embarked on this trip. Luckily, this was a great first trip to take. The outer islands shield the inner waterways that we were paddling over from most of the oceans waves and currents. The only thing we had to worry about were the wakes from speed boats zipping by. So we favored somewhat more shallow waters where the boats with outboard motors couldn’t tread.
So we took our time paddling along until we reached the wetlands area about halfway to our destination. We cut through the edge of the wetlands, taking some time out to watch the diverse birdlife that inhabited the area and enjoying the extremely calm waters the wetlands provided. Then we pressed onward. It does take a lot of work to paddle your way through the ocean, and sometimes it seems like we weren’t making any progress at all, but in all honesty, it didn’t take too long for us to reach our destination: Shackleford Island. In all, our water journey took less than two hours.
After a short hike to the ocean side of the island, which was far less populated by the boaters, we found a suitable site and set up camp. After pitching the tent and wandering around taking in the natural wonder of the ocean and the island, we decided it was time for dinner. For our evening meal, I brought along some MRE’s. That stands for “Meal Ready to Eat.” Yes, yes I know, “Ready to Eat Meal” makes much more sense but then the abbreviation would be REM and there’s already a band called REM. And you know the military, they have a thing for acronyms.
Say what you want about the US military, but when it comes to food, they know what they’re doing with the MRE. The entire meal comes enclosed in heavy waterproof packaging, so there was no need for us to waste waterproof bags to hold the food. Each packet contains one main course, a side dish, some form of crackers and spread, a high calorie dessert (M&M’s, Snickers, etc), a spoon, and a small bag of napkins, wet naps, matches, and other useful things. And on top of it all, they cook themselves, so there was no need to bring a camping stove and propane on the trip. Just add water, and watch your food cook. No seriously, you add water, and it cooks. It’s like dehydrated heat. And yes, I know that sounds stupid.
While eating dinner, I realized I made mistakes number one and two for the trip. Number one, I forgot to bring along a knife. You should always, ALWAYS bring a knife when camping. Opening up a heavily sealed waterproof MRE without the aid of a sharp implement is not an easy thing to do, trust me. A knife is a basic tool that can be useful under many situations, so always bring one into the wilderness with you. The second mistake was when I gave my refried beans to Michael to eat. I probably should not have brought the Beef Enchilada MRE on the trip to begin with, but giving your tent mate beans is a bad, extremely bad idea.
So after a healthy dinner meant to sustain a warrior in combat, we cleaned up and got inside the tent. It wasn’t because we were tired or anything, we just wanted to get away from the bugs. And these weren’t just any bugs, they were mutant, bloodthirsty, communist bugs. The things were basically eating us alive. And of course, I made another mistake. I left the tent door open after we set it up. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that allowed all manner of bugs and mosquitoes and other vampiric creatures of the night to inhabit our sleeping area. So we spent the first twenty minutes inside the tent killing off every bug we could. Unfortunately we could not get them all, and I’m sure the bugs had more than their fill for the night. I have the welts all over my arms and legs that still itch today thanks to them. And believe me, the itching never, ever goes away no matter how much I scratch, or how little I scratch it.
We had just finished our little attempt at bug genocide when Michael noticed something through the screen door of the tent. “Hey look, people,” he said. I turned to look and through the dim light of the setting sun slipping through the horizon, I noticed that those weren’t people.(To be continued next week.)
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