Cramping

One of my sisters once said camping in a hotel was much better than camping outdoors. My friend, one of the toughest guys I’ve ever met, would agree with my sister.

A terrific comedian, Jim Gaffiigan, did a fabulous bit on the miseries of camping and the possibilities of being eaten by a wild animal.  I can’t steal his humorous thunder, but I can describe the reality, vicariously, through one of my friends.

What you are about to read is shocking. These are text excerpts from a friend currently camping with his wife, family, and some friends.

Day one: “Let the wife do all the shopping for me and packing.  She woke up bubbly this morning, and my goal is to knock the bubbly out of her being.”  (I requested confirmation.)  “I need her to stop being bubbly.  So, I’m going to antagonize her until she is no longer bubbly.  I want her to be as miserable as me.  So, I’m knocking the bubbly out of her being.”  (When not camping, this is a happily married couple of over fifteen years with three wonderful sons.)

Day Two: He just described his wife as a Roman Candle.  She didn’t respond very well after she did all the packing and retrieved all the food. Evidently, she didn’t pack his favorite foods.  He may be sleeping in the car, if there is one near by.

Update: “I was a dick head to my wife at a subconscious level.”

How lovely.  This poor man loves his wife, but hates his weekend life in the woods. I’m not buying that entirely.

Day Three:  “I’m going to cover myself with honey and this expensive huckleberry jam we purchased at the campsite’s convenient store in hopes a bear soon takes me out of my misery.”

I haven’t heard from him since.

 

 

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