“Well, that should do it, I just cut all the funding to the Great Lakes region.  Fresh water is vastly inferior to salt water in my opinion.  All my properties are on the Ocean or some type of salted body of water so why would I want to allocate money for something that doesn’t have the Trump seal of approval?”

“Well sir, the Great Lakes Region is primarily responsible for your election, I feel like you are doing them a serious disservice by cutting funding to the Great Lakes which is responsible for generating billions of dollars in tourism revenue as well as through commercial fishing.  On top of that, the Great Lakes are responsible for providing clean drinking water to millions of people.”

“Great Lakes?  What’s so great about a body of water that doesn’t have sharks, whales, I am particularly fond of whales by the way, or dolphins?  I think we are doing them a favor by cutting funding, now those Asian Carp should be able to infiltrate the Great Lakes, and if you ask me they are a lot like dolphins the way they are able to jump out of the water.  Have you seen any you tube videos of those things?  Fantastic specimen.”

“As your chief advisor, which seems kind of oxymoronic since you never heed anyone’s advice, I would strongly caution cutting funding to the Great Lakes, but obviously that’s your call, just like your allotment in next years budget to encase the entire exterior of the White House in gold.  Looks like that may be even more foolish and expensive than that damn wall you keep clamoring about.”

“How is that going by the way? I can’t wait to break ground on that thing.  You know how I love wearing those construction hats.”

“You somehow manage to get another term and the wall still won’t happen.”

“Well, let’s move on from this Great Lakes thing, we get rid of the Great Lakes and that will open up the door for my Trump ionization company that turns salt water into fresh water.   But even more important than me capitalizing financially on my presidency is my proposal regarding the yoga pants legislation.”

” I was just going to get to that sir.  Honestly, this is something I can get behind. It does appear there are no restrictions on yoga pants, people of all shapes and sizes have jumped on the yoga pants bandwagon, I have even seen men wearing them.”

“There’s nothing I hate worse than seeing some fat cow donning yoga pants.  I was watching the view the other day, specifically so I could hate Rosie O’Donnell even more, and she was wearing yoga pants, her humor isn’t funny and let me tell you her camel toe isn’t a laughing matter either.  Women wearing yoga pants is similar to being a gynecologist, for every attractive Vagina you get a peek at there’s ten of them that make you reconsider your selected vocation.  We definitely need to put some restrictions on what the manufacturers are allowed to produce when it comes to yoga pants.”

“Agreed sir, and the good news is Representative Ryan is right behind you on this.  He lives in Wisconsin and this is a subject that really hits home to him. I believe Wisconsin is the number one consumer of both dairy products and bratwursts, that’s a deadly combo for someone with the spending power to purchase an assortment of yoga pants.”

“The first thing we need to address is size, should we cap the manufacturers at a size 6 or do we want to go size 4?  All my wife’s and girlfriends have been a size 0 so I am going to need a little help from you on this, you strike me as somewhat of a chubby chaser. I know it sounds like I am kind of bragging about my hot wife and girlfriends, but the reality is they can’t stand me, if it weren’t for that common law thing where a husband is allowed to have sex with his wife regardless of consent because she’s considered chattel coupled with all my money, I would have no offspring to speak of.  Just keep that to yourself though, as far as your concerned I am irresistible to the opposite sex.  Now I feel like we are straddling a pretty fine line here and need to get this one right so that the American people can have renewed confidence in my ability to lead this country.”

“I say we play it safe and draw the line at a size 4, sweat pants for anyone above that size.  In all honesty I wouldn’t be disappointed if sweat pants were my consolation prize.”

“Size 4 it is.  Ok, can we also put an age restriction on this as well?  There’s nothing out there that counteracts my viagra than some granny rocking yoga pants. Nobody needs to see that, especially my boner.”

“I thought you were going the other direction with that and trying to keep young girls from wearing them, as a way to protect them from the judgment of their discretion-less parents and to keep them form eventually becoming whores.”

“I’m all for letting parents torpedo their kids lives, don’t want to get in the way of that.  Look at my kids, if it weren’t for the fact that I was never around and had nothing to do with their upbringing, they would be complete disasters, they still kind of are, but no prep school on the planet could have saved them from the irreparable damage I would have done to them.”

“So we addressed size and age sir is there anything else we need to put in this piece of legislation?”

“There most certainly is, have you seen some of the latest yoga pants they have? All different designs on them and they tend to keep the eyes from being able to focus on what really matters if you know what I mean.  Have you seen the pants that have the southwestern motif?  Those things are hideous.  We are going to have to implement monotone as a design requirement when it comes to yoga pants.  Black, Grey, even white.  I haven’t seen any white yoga pants but wouldn’t that be fantastic?”

“It could have been a disaster but now that we have age and size regulated it will likely be marvelous.”

“Speaking of disaster, there is one final addendum to the bill that must be included for this to be considered a success.  Gender restrictions, specifically, no dudes.  I am all about the properly shaped camel toe, but I definitely don’t need to see any moose knuckles.”

 

 

“Ok, you can take the kids to Chick Fillet for shakes but don’t go home, I might need you to come back and pick up the new camper.”

In my mind I was thinking, no way, even Shirley is not that compulsive, she just started seriously looking at campers this morning at 9 am, then I remembered she decided she wanted a PWC (personal water craft) one night and the following day she was the proud owner of a brand newYamaha Wave Runner.  That sales person probably didn’t know what hit him.  “Really, you want to trailer it away today, I think we can do that, and you did say you just started looking at these online last night?”

“Ok, I’ll touch base with you after we get done at Chick Fillet.  However, make sure you contact me prior to signing on the dotted line.”

No response because she was already engaged in further negotiations with Ron at RV world.   This text popped up on my phone while I was eating a 9 piece naked chicken nugget meal at chick filet.  (honestly, I don’t know what the big deal about Chick Fillet is, the shakes are tremendous but everything else is average, which is to be expected, all they have is chicken.  I don’t think I have ever eaten chicken and been awestruck by it, I feel good about it because it seems like a healthy choice, but it’s a full continent away from flavor country)

“So, it will be a total of $15,000 with tax and everything else out the door.  That’s base of $13,745.  The other camper south of town was not fiberglass frame.  What do you think?”

I think this is spiraling out of control. The camper subject has been broached every summer for the last few years.  In the past, I just ride it out a couple of weeks until Shirley’s attention span gets the best of her and she totally forgets that she wants a camper.  I probably could have stalled on the PCW and ended up with the same result, but the PCW was something I could get some use out of, the camper on the other hand is something I dread owning, because ultimately it will result in me having to camp.  On top of that, and in this scenario it may not be a bad thing, Shirley has a tendency to impulse shop and never use the impulsively purchased product as much as would be justified by the purchase price.  A few years back the impulse purchase was a treadmill, she assured me she would use it on a regular basis, I think she meant yearly, because since it’s purchase she has used it no more than three times.

Why do people want to camp?  I really don’t feel like traveling hundreds of miles away to sit around a camp ground with a bunch of creepy strangers where my residence is a 17 foot by 5 foot trailer.  I have a tough time tolerating my family and we live in a five bedroom house on an acre and a half of land, in those close quarters I may finally have a serenity now moment.

In Michigan the summer season is short and I try to maximize it by spending the weekends doing what I want, golfing,  skiing, avoiding my family.  How are any of these things possible if I am forced to camp with them?  Of course, Shirley claims I don’t have to go camping with her and Tod and Ted, but hey even I am not even that big of an asshole, I will complain about it most of the time, but I will begrudgingly go.

I asked Shirley why she thinks camping will be so terrific and her response is that she has so many fond memories of camping as a kid.  Guess what, I have fond memories of things that were probably in all reality terrible, but I was a kid and I didn’t know any better.  Ultimately, if I endured a shitty experience but somehow got ice cream at the end of that shitty experience, my opinion of that experience completely changed.  What do kids have to look forward to?  Absolutely nothing, everything in their world is controlled by their parents.  They can’t drive which means they can’t go anywhere unless someone takes them somewhere.  My kids actually think taking a bath or shower is fun, how lame does your life have to be to look at that as a form of entertainment?  (accompanied showers on the other hand…)  So, from a kids eye’s camping is going to seem somewhat worthwhile.  Or is it?

The summer before sixth grade my mom, dad, and brother went out East to Maine in a truck camper that was owned by my super dutch grandparents.  Not only was the truck camper horrible it was attached to an early 70’s Ford F-150 that may have been powered by a family of chipmunks.  On the way out East my mom made us stop by Amish Acres which is located in Northern Indiana, yes it was as bad as it sounds.  Amish people may be the most boring people on the face of the earth other than Mormons, ok I take that back when you have multiple wives your life can’t be boring, hell on earth, yes, boring no.  Regardless, whoever the genius behind Amish Acres was, thanks for letting my mom find out about it.  Seriously, there was no internet back then so I’m not sure how she found it, but if you googled “most boring place on earth” Amish Acres would undoubtedly come up.  On a side note, every so often you hear about a horse and buggy accident and it’s always the horses that gest injured or killed when a car runs into the buggy, why can’t it be the Amish, they are the ones stubbornly riding around in horse and buggies?  (When a person dies in a movie rarely am I sad, when an animal dies in a movie I immediately wish I hadn’t chosen to watch that particular movie and am overcome with grief).

Initially I thought to myself we have traveled to the apex of vacation hell having gone to Amish Acres there is no way this can get any worse.  Unfortunately, it did, due to there only being a bench seat in my Grandfather’s truck my parent’s had us riding in the pick up camper which I am certain was illegal. (My Grandpa was so cheap I’m sure if a steering wheel had been an option he had to pay for separately he would have made his own, in the thirty plus years I knew him I don’t think he ever had new clothes, he was wearing clothes from the 70’s well into the early 2000’s)  In order to make sure we didn’t try to jump out of the camper and make a run for it they put a belt around the door so that we couldn’t get it open as we were traveling.  One morning my brother and I woke up and we were in a McDonald’s parking lot.  My parents were no where to be found and had left the door locked from the outside.  I had to piss like a racehorse and began to panic, until I found a bag of red solo cups.  I filled up two solo cups with warm urine.  Parents could be so irresponsible back then, if I was raising kids back then there is little chance they would have survived past the age of 7.

Shirley’s upbringing could have been vastly different than me, but something tells me it wasn’t, she was probably just one of those glass half full types of kids.  I was more of a realist, and had my parents exposed us to anymore camping than that trip out East I probably would have had a nervous breakdown at American RV this past Saturday.  “Honey, why is that man curled up in a ball sucking his thumb in the middle of the show room?”

My parents couldn’t stand us or each other (My parents don’t read this blog, but if they did they would probably agree with that statement whole heartedly) when we were growing up so imagine the fireworks if they had decided to load everyone up in their wood paneled Caprice station wagon (that burned a quart of oil a week) and head out for some tent camping or even a pull along camper (that would have burned two quarts a week minimum)?  Shirley claims to have fond memories of camping and likely other things that took place in her child hood.  My only fond memory of child hood is finding my buddies dad’s stash of pornos.

It’s somewhat puzzling to me that people actually want to camp.  If I want to smell like a campfire I can have one at my house and then get the smell off me with a shower, that doesn’t seem viable if you actually are at a campground, the smell of campfire is perpetually on you while you camp.  If I want to sleep within feet of complete strangers and shower with them I will commit a crime that results in me going to jail, at least that gives me a chance to do something fun and exciting beforehand.

I had a text exchange this morning where I indicated to one of my faithful readers that I feel like I am the one always being asked to give.  I think it’s time I get something out of this whole blogging experience.  I have discussed camping with other people and most of the people I have spoken with also think it is horrible, at least horrible if you have to do it routinely, which seems like it would be the likely outcome if Shirley does actually purchase a camper.  Am I off on this?  What do my four regular readers thing about camping?