What are the chances Nether Relm still lives in his mom’s basement and may be a serial killer?  $5 beers are a bit pricy?  Compared to the Keystone Lite you drink with our mom while watching Hee Haw.

Getting farted on by a stipper seems to the be the least of your problems if you are going to a nudy bar for dinner.  Their bologna sandwich buffet was out of this world can’t wait to try their all you can eat tacos!

I am thankful about the Raven tip though, I have a thing for big women, especially sons that take their clothes off for money, had I not known that she sat on you until you bought enough lap dances I would have went directly to her, that is after I hit the bologna sandwich buffet of course.  (Is this real mayo?  It tastes kind of like Miracle whip and it kind of doesn’t)

I went out to Seattle last week and some how avoided the strip clubs, probably because I don’t like strip clubs and I would guess the girls of the Pacific Northwest are not the type you want to see taking their clothes off.  However, I was alerted to the fact by my brother that my ear hair was getting out of control.  In all honesty, it is a constant battle between me and my body hair, even the hair on my neck and lack of hair on my head is problematic.  I have a weird mole above my ear that sprouts dark black hair that grows three times faster than the hair on my head (I should probably have that looked at) and the hair on my neck grows at the rate of a werewolf’s when it’s a full moon.  Surprisingly to everyone I talk to, I get my hair cut professionally.  That includes the straight razor on my neck to buy a few extra days of not looking like the Wolf Man.   Even more problematic is my ear and nose hair, I have gone through countless different trimmers and none of them seem to get the job done effectively, I still feel like my nose could double for a party favor and my ears often look like they have steel wool coming out of them.  My brother alluring me to my ear hair was the last straw so I hopped on Amazon in search of the best “nose hair trimmer” and this is what I found:

Customer reviews

Around 6:45 AM I had to drop a deuce and made my way to the bathroom.  I will crap just about anywhere (including in my shorts while I am running) but I hate pooping next to someone.  Sure enough I had a fellow crapper who jumped in his stall right after I took a seat.  Sleeping within 3 feet of total strangers with nothing separating you but a tent is unnerving, but taking a dump 6 inches from someone is the worst.  Normally I like to read my phone on the can but there were two things preventing me from doing so, no cell service and an insatiable desire to get the hell out of the bathroom as quickly as possible.  Was it clean? No.  Did I expect it to be clean? No.  Was it disgusting? Yes.  Did I expect it to be disgusting? Yes.

Fortunately Shirley’s parents keep their boat at White Lake only 15 minutes from the campground we were at so we spent most of Saturday out at their boat.  However, we had to return to the campground eventually and when we did my mood immediately soured.  The camp sites next to us were now occupied, there was an old married couple setting up their tent and the guy was shirtless and shouldn’t have been and his wife wasn’t wearing enough clothing either.  His gut was hanging well over his shorts and the thought of sleeping within fart smelling range of them was down right disheartening.  On the other side of us was an attractive women with who I assumed was her husband and kids, I wanted to ask her what she was doing there because as far as I could tell attractive people don’t camp. I guess it is possible she was kidnapped and being held hostage, in hind sight I probably should have alerted the authorities.   Instead I pretended like they didn’t exist just like I did with the guy shitting next to me and the elderly couple with the carton of Winstons camping immediately down wind from us.

That day it had been in the 90’s and by the time we got to bed it was still in the upper seventies, but the heat index in our tent had to be in the 80’s with the air circulation of a coffin.  Sleep was even harder to come by on Saturday night and I woke up at 7 to find my family sound asleep and found myself unable to get back to sleep after I took my morning trip to the bathroom.  So, I could just sit there awake and stare at my family or I could take the half hour trip to the nearest Starbucks to get a cold brew.  I was willing to spend an hour on the road so I could get away from the campground.

When I got back from Starbucks Shirley was packing up the camping supplies and said to no one in particular “this was so much fun I wish we could go camping again next week!”  Are you out of your mind would have been the logical response, but I just kept quiet not wanting to start an argument that would impede the progress of her getting things packed up so we could get out of there before we caught poverty ( I hear it’s quite contagious). Shirley spent 2 hours packing before her and the kids left, 2 hours unpacking and setting up camp, and 2 hours taking down camp.  In addition, we had to unload all the stuff when we got home.  So, at a minimum we (mainly Shirley) had at a minimum 8 hours of work put in so that we could sleep, poop, and try to ignore complete strangers.   Needless to say, I can’t wait until my kids are old enough to realize how bad it sucks to camp so we can finally put an end to this charade.