Tuesday, September 4, 2012

I Got 99 Problems and They All Itches

No, that’s not a typo. 

Nor is that an exaggeration.

I didn’t die this weekend (surprisingly) but I did get eaten by mosquitoes.  Why did I count the bites?  Because they are so bad that I had to buy cream to put on them to stop the insane itching.  So the first thing I did yesterday was go to the drugstore and look for something to ease my pain.

I thought calamine lotion was going to do the trick – but then I got sidetracked by this box.

After 10 minutes of reading every anti-itch cream on the shelf, I
opted for the one with the picture of the mosquito on it.
Marketing ploys at their best.  Of course I bought it.  Did it work?  You bet your ass it did.

Anyway… you didn’t come to this blog looking for horror stories about me being eaten alive by mosquitoes.  You were looking for stories of the debauchery that took place at my motorcycle rally/camping party.

Because consumption of alcohol was the only activity high on the list of activities, I naturally took notes on my cell phone.  Reading through them made me laugh until I spit water all over my desk, so I’m just going to give you a few bullet points and random pictures.

The arena as seen from our campsite.  In case you didn't know,
the music was HOT.  As was the weather.
  • The highlight of my Friday night experience was using the portapotty.  It was amazing.  I was the first person to use the one I went in.  It still smelled like sanitizer and was practically gleaming with cleanliness.
  • On Saturday afternoon I almost gave up on the camping trip and went home.  Then the band started playing Journey and I thought “Alright, that’s pretty cool.”  Then I got apple pie shots.  Then the band started playing Rush and I decided the party was definitely on for the night.
We didn't bring a motorcycle with us but we did bring this old International
so we had some cred.  My bright orange Kia hatchback looked
awfully out of place with all the trucks, bike and RVs.
  • One of my friends kept disappearing on us and wandering off to make friends.  By the end of Saturday night everyone was his best friend.  It became like a game of “Where’s Waldo?”  One moment we’d see him standing with a group of people, engaged in animated conversation and the next we’d see him dancing by the stage with a different group of people.
  • I decided that if I ever write a book I’m going to call it Stories My Mother Would Never Want Me to Tell.
Since we're River People, when the weather got toasty and our hangovers
kicked in we headed to the river to get back our faith in the world.
  • They had a stripper pole.  In a corn crib.  Let me say that again – they had a stripper pole in a corn crib.  Yes, we danced on it – all of us, the boys and the girls.  Waldo got a concussion trying to turn himself upside down.
  • Our group imposed a Facebook embargo for the weekend.  And we all failed.  One of the best quotes was from Amanda at 10pm on Saturday, to me: “What are you doing on your cell phone?!? Are you on Facebook? You’d better be texting your ex-boyfriend!” This is probably the only time you will ever hear a girl telling another girl this is acceptable.
    Because who wouldn't want a rifle lamp? This bar had five of them and they were all for sale. Because the only thing bikers like more than motorcycles are firearm-themed antiques.
  • When I asked a metal boy who was walking around wrapped in a blanket why he was wrapped in a blanket at a party he responded “Because, Mama, I need someone to cuddle with me.  You want to cuddle with me, Mama?”  To which I politely responded “Oh, no thank you.”  After sitting by our fire talking to Amanda and me, this dude and his brother slept on the ground by our fire.  They asked us if this was ok, and we told them this was ok since our two boys (who were just our friends but we didn't need to tell them that) were already asleep inside the tent.
  • I saw precisely 7 pairs of assless chaps in one bar.

So I’m alive.  However, I did give up the ghost on Sunday and went home before Skid Row.  I know. I suck.  But a gnat infestation in all of our food and beverage coolers, temperatures over 90 degrees, and lack of shade prompted me to just go home and relax for a full day of vacation in the comfort of my home.

I was really hoping that the fedora would send the wrong vibe to the guys at this event.  Apparently it was exactly the right vibe - the "Yes I'll go for a drunken ride with you and definitely sleep in a field with you" vibe.
All in all it was beautiful – though I am sorry I missed out on getting to ride a motorcycle for the first time in my life.  Some drunk country boys offered to take me on one Saturday night but for some reason that just didn’t seem like a good idea…

Hope you had a fab Labor Day!



  1. Good for you on skipping out on Skid Row. Fuck Skid Row.

    1. Haha, Amanda tried to convince me to go back for it Sunday night but I had a much better time watching Doctor Who ;-)

  2. Glad you survived. I told you assless chaps and mosquitoes were a bad idea ;)

    Btw....what the hell is a corn crib?

    1. Hahaha, luckily I just had shorts on so I don't have any bites *there*.

      And I've linked to a corn crib in the blog above because now I realize that people who aren't from the state of corn probably don't know what that is. They are typically used to keep corn for feeding animals and... stuff.. (I'm not a farmer, I don't really know..) but at this place they were used for skanky dancing. And concussions.

    2. OMG yeah that's not what came to mind when I was trying to picture what a corn crib could be. I was thinking like a crate or something but that's like a mini open-concept corn silo.

    3. I think they used to be big box-like crate thingies, but the cage siding lets air flow better and keeps it from rotting.

      But I don't *actually* know that, I'm just guessing. There's probably a much different reason. I could Wikipedia it, but my guess is really all I need right now ;-)