Camping here we come

So we decided to all go camping up in the middle of nowhere, just for shits and giggles, all in good fun. The campgrounds were called the "La Jolla Indian Campgrounds", which would lead you to believe that it was near La Jolla. This is not true, and in fact, I felt a little like we're were being driven out to be shot, where nobody would ever hear our screams. For anyone familiar with the area, it was somewhere up past Rincon Valley, but I'm not really sure. Whatever. My point is, it was pretty secluded, but still had a little gas station nearby, and security at the campground entrance. They also had a little place where you could rent big inner tubes to go down the "Lazy River" which ran through the 3 mile campgrounds. Now please don't let the name fool you. The lazy river was far from lazy. In fact, it was about as lazy as a puppy on meth. It looked lazy at some points....calm, serene...deceiving you into happily paying $8 for an inflated tube that would assist you in gently flowing down CLASS 4 RAPIDS. Now there was no warning from the tube rental woman, and no discernable sign saying something like "Caution: You may die while floating down the lazy river" or "Danger: River not so fucking lazy anymore". So all of us, in exciting anticipation, walked way upstream so we could jump in the river and take it down to the end. Jumping in wasnt too bad, and the river started out ok. But soon after, the subtle drops and jagged rocks started to become more plentiful, and gradually grew into 6 foot drops into piles of boulders through current that was strong enough to take you down it, whether you had your inner tube with you or not. So as we hung on for dear life to the 8 dollars of rubber that was the only thing separating us from certain hospitalization, we did our best to make it to the end. Some weren't fortunate enough to do this....like Lauren, who after falling down a rather nasty drop, off her tube, and slamming into a boulder bigger than her with all her body weight, she opted to climb her way out of the river as soon as she could. The rest of us braved it the best we could, and most of us came out relatively unhurt. Mostly it was bruises in random places, particularly asses since the tubes had no support or protection in the area, a few cuts and scrapes, and a nearly broken ankle. All in all, a fantastic adventure...but I only say that because I didn't break anything. It was a blast, but I'd never do it again. Luckily the rest of our day and evening went well. Unfortunately I have no pictures of the lazy river because my camera isnt waterproof. But just picture various 20-somethings hanging on for dear life in flowing stream of death. Enjoy.

So we drove all the way up to where Buddy works, because some guy he knew at work told him where to find some palettes of word that he would be able to take up the the campsite and use for firewood. So here we are. Not very exciting, but I figured I'd at least let you know where we got the palettes from. Not that you care, so move on to the next picture you bastard.

Everyone watching Brad and Buddy attached the palettes to his roof rack.

We're almost there. I can't wait to get in the soothing, calm, relaxing lazy river! (Warning: Obvious foreshadowing may occur at random occasions throughout the trip)

We only technically violated one rule...no axes. But how else were we gonna chop up the palette? With the hammer? We found a use...or at least an attempted use, for that later as you'll see.

Lauren looks pretty content here. I think it's because she hasn't been out on the so-called lazy river yet. She definitely got the worst of it for sure. Although Marcel's near-broken ankle might beg to differ. You'll see the victim photos later on.

Emily, so proud of her tent setting-up abilities. If this was a choose your own adventure book, you could skip to the end and find out how the ending works out...in this case, as it relates to her tent packing-up abilities. And in fact, you're more than welcome to, although I recommend following along in proper order. It's more exciting that way.

The gang...from left to right, Ze German Marcel, Brad, Buddy, Lauren (you cant see her), Ze German Ray, Emily, Sara, and Ze German Lars. I like to call them that cuz they're German. Well, Marcel is half Swiss, and I'm not sure why his parents named him Marcel. But you'll have to pardon me, as I cant help myself but refer to them with the prefix "Ze". It's just fun to say. They are all great guys, and will be heading back to Germany in a couple days. They will be missed.

I dont know why she was in such a hurry. But I have a feeling I know why she'll be in a hurry to hit me when she see this posted.

It's almost like a Bud Light commercial.

Playin some cards, hangin out. From left to right, Ze German "Ray", Emily, Sara, me, and Ze German "Lars".

Master Brad making his best attempt at chopping up the palette. Those fuckers are a bitch to break up. I tried later, but not to much avail.

So here's the round log-shaped groud beef roll that we planned on making into hamburgers. Only trouble is nobody had anything to use to get into the packaging. Notice the hammer. Not very successful as a first attempt. On to something else....

After an unsuccessful attempt to enter the beef log with the hammer, she went on to use the only sharp object we had at the campsight...the urban keychain known as a mini swiss army knife. It took a while but she managed to make it work. Wow, we are so not well prepared.

Yay, she finally broke into the beef log. She seems excited, in a creepy kind of way. Maybe it's to amuse herself since nobody else seems interested in helping. All I can think of is the bacteria thats gonna be on the hammer. Is that weird?

Emily diligently forming burger patties from the fantastic log-o-ground beef.

No amount of "roughing it" can prevent me from making anyone who handles raw meat wash their hands with real soap and water.

The dynamic duo...and lighter fluid. Maybe I shoulda cropped this.

So as we're all sitting around, we hear a "thump", and look to find Lauren flat on her back after tripping on who knows what. As you can see, Emily's maternal instinct kicks right in and she laughs at the top of her lungs just long enough for everyone else to look and join in. I would have gone to see if she was ok, but I was comfy in my chair, and had pictures to take dammit. Besides, the fact that she managed to keep her beer upright shows both that she is not seriously injured, and that she knows what's truly important in dangerous situations. Save the beer. Congrats all around to everyone who managed this situation only slightly better than a monkey with a learning disability.

After a brief but hearty laugh at Lauren's tumble, it would seem as if Emily is going to help her up....but for whatever reason, that ambition fades away fast....

At this point, 8 seconds have passed since Lauren's fall, and Emily has already gotten up and walked away, and Nima opened another beer. Needless to say, she helped herself off the ground with no assistance from any drunken bystanders.

Since chopping up the palette was too much damn work, we just threw the whole thing in there one side at a time and hoped that nothing would go wrong. That's good enough, right?

Lauren, showing her cool lazy river scars off to Nima.

Our exellent tent setup job. As you'll see later, tent breakdown is a whole nother animal. I'd tell you what was going on in the tent on the right, but a certain someone would never forgive me.

8am, Buddy, and a beer. No better way to cure a hangover.

Ugh. Just what mother nature intended when she gave us clean land, beautiful trees, and fresh air.

Wow, what the hell did we do? 

Emily gave up on the packing up for a moment while the world spun around her. Notice the interesting juxtaposition of her nalgene water and the empty Bud Light can....only one is still standing. Oh, the symbolism is overwhelming.  

We weren't so good at the packing up thing. Tents are a bitch.  

Awww. You see, the reason she's sad is that the big folded tent on the right is supposed to be able to fit into the small blue bag on the left. Someone needs a tent folding lesson! 

Ooooh, we had to stop abruptly when Emily felt the need for a little reverse paristalsis. Can you tell she's been sitting on the ground? 

Lauren, happy that she's not Emily. 

Emily, in that "I just threw up and now I feel so much better that I'll actually smile for the camera" mood.
Lastly, we'll play Law and Order SVU and show the various injuries received by the "lazy river".

Superficial cut combined with minor ecchymosis of the medial head of the triceps brachii.  

The EUA showed unexpectedly positive pivot, although only marginally loose lachman. Her ACL was present and of normal caliber but with slight lax. Therefore no intra-artic. She'll be fine.  

superficial abrasion, although mighty painful in the shower.  

minor contusion to the lower lumbar region, just left of the rector spinae. bruising on the epidermis above the lower latissimus dorsi.




SO WHAT CAN WE LEARN FROM CAMPING?

1) The best backpacks are named for national parks or mountain ranges. Steer clear of those named for landfills.
2) You can compress the diameter of your rolled up sleeping bag by running over it with your car.
3) You haven’t lived until you’ve cut your way through raw meat with a Swiss army knife.
4) Any stone in a hiking boot migrates to the point of maximum pressure
5) All tree branches in a forest grow outward from their respective trunks at exactly the height of your nose. If you are male, tree branches will also grow at groin height.
6) Communing with nature is great. I just don't like it when nature tries communing back.

Crap

Good point, Matt. Sorry, I missed my own cutoff to post something new....this is mainly because I just got my internet up and running yesterday, so i havent had much time to blog it up. I'm ass tired right now so I'm going to bed, but I havent been attacked in my sleep so that's good. Although I have been woken up a couple times by loud talking friends of James in the living room at 4am on a weeknight, cuz they all have exact opposite hours from me and think it a nice idea to come home and hang out until the Wednesday morning sun comes up. Ahh, the minor pitfalls of having a roommate. I'll have to nip that one in the bud. More to come in the next few days about our camping trip this past weekend. Some people are still healing from that one.

Ok here goes

So I still dont have internet at my new place yet, but conveniently enough, I live right around the corner from a really cool coffee bar called Korova (named after the infamously fucked up movie "A Clockwork Orange") and they have free wireless internet which I am mooching off of as we speak. But the people here are really cool and they make one a damn good smoothie. Ok enough bullshit. So basically I just moved into a new place because my previous roommate fucked up on paying the rent on time and wound up getting himself evicted. This may have had something to do with the fact that he was a gambling addict and did nothing but play partypoker.com at home and then go out to the casino to play poker some more. But don't get me wrong, he didn't go broke and fail to pay the rent. In fact he makes a fortune playing poker, hundreds of dollars a day playing online, and 5 times that taking trust fund babies' money at the casino on a Friday night. I think he's recently stopped his day job since he no longer needs the funds. So I think his failure to pay the rent on time had more to do with the fact that he fucked up and paid the rent with the wrong checking account (the one with no money in it). Now I wasn't on the lease, I was just renting out the other room, so I was more irritated than anything else, seeing as how by default I was going to have to move out since the place was in his name. I could have taken over the lease and stayed, but that wouldve involved a year contract, a huge hastle, finding a new roomate that wouldnt kill me in my sleep, and living 25 minutes from anything fun. Besides, the management there were a bunch of pricks who I am glad to have nothing to do with anymore. So here I am, after 2 weeks of intense marathon house hunting, I found a pretty nice 2BR/2Bth condo in a kick ass neighborhood that's close to everything. My roomate is a bartender named James who between him and his friends, wouldn't be able to walk down any street in San Diego without 10 people yelling his name and saying "what's up", "how's in goin", or some derivation of a greeting. Needless to say, I've met a few people since knowing him...some cool, some not, but whatever, it's always good to meet new people. Who knows how this new living situation will work out, he could still kill me in my sleep...he might just be waiting to find out how many friends I have that would come looking for me if I disappeared. I'll keep you posted. But James talks fast and moves fast, and since his car broke down a couple days ago, he's been jogging to and from work (about 4 miles each way), so he could either be in great shape or a meth addict. I have faith, though. But if there's not another blog entry within the next week....come looking for me. Thanks.

Basketball star or Blind man?

So Emily, Nima (for those who care, Nima is a friend of ours that rents out a room in the house Emily lives in) and I went out to dinner last night in an effort to find new and good restaurants near where I've recently moved. On a side note, I'll get up the story soon of why I moved.
So we decided on a recommendation of a friend of mine at work that we would try this Thai restaurant/Wine Bar in Hillcrest. We had a 15 minute wait for a table, so we stood outside and watched the countless interesting people walk by. As we stood there talking, a relatively large 7 foot man walked out from the resturant patio with his black labrador retreiver. Navigating around us with a low sounding "scuse me", Nima looked at me and said, "Is that Bill Walton?", with a surprise and wonderment in his eyes that you'd only see on a 7 year-old at Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. "Yeah, it is", I replied, as Nima slowly started to drool from the corner of his mouth. Nima, being from Boston, and Bill Walton, having played for Boston, resulted in some kind of unspoken bond and Nima's need for human contact with a living NBA legend. As Nima literally chased after Bill, I laughed and watched, and Emily made the following comment: "Why is he going after that blind guy?". "What?" I asked in confusion. Apparently, Bill Walton's manner of walking, combined with the fact that he had a black lab on a short leash, led Emily to the conclusion that he was just a large blind man walking down the street. So I explained to Emily who Bill Walton was, and why Nima was so excited to see him. She didn't care much about it, but we both thought it was pretty funny that Nima tailed Bill Walton straight down the street for about 3 blocks before actually catching up with him to shake his hand. So when he got back and we got seated, we had a great dinner, and Nima made and received calls for the next couple hours to tell his friends about who he saw. However, every phone call went something like this:
Nima: "Dude, you'll never guess who I saw tonight at the restaurant we're at.........no, not Rick Flair...............no not Bronson Arroyo......ok I'll just tell you, Bill Walton."
And so it went. But nevertheless, an exciting night for all. And now we know where Bill Walton lives, and it happens to be in a gay neighborhood of San Diego. Who knew.