August 24th, 2008

Pluto close up

Man Camp = Fail!

But not necessarily in the fail way that most people would think. Did I have a good time? No. Was I smothered by testosterone? Again, no. Was I annoyed by a cousin? Yes, yes I was.

Okay, here's the deal. I woke up at 3 to go. We left at 4:06 (we said we would give anybody who wanted to come with us 5 minutes until we left. We gave them six. Nobody came...), and we got there about 9ish. There were like ten people there. I'm not lying. This is supposed to be some huge ass man encampment where the males in my family get together and do stupid shit. Instead it was me, my dad, my uncle Manuel, my cousin Christopher, my uncle Veto (I don't know how to spell his name, but I think that's it... and it's pronounced Beto with the mexican way they say B), my uncle Tumen (real name Burt, which I just found out), my uncle Arthur, my cousin Julian (who I've apparently met before, but cannot recall), my cousin Morino, my Uncle Jesse and my Uncle Armando. Lots of uncles. Few cousins. What's wrong with this picture? All of my uncles have sons or grandsons, and only 4 of us were accounted for. The hell? I TRAVELED THREE HUNDRED OR SO MILES AND FOOLS THAT LIVE TWENTY MINUTES AWAY CAN'T MAKE IT?!?! That angered me. A lot. Throw in the fact that these are members of my family that I wanted to see (the ones that don't make it) and it just makes it worse.

My cousin Morino is an annoying little bastard. He's 13, so it's expected. My cousin Chris, who used to annoy me like crazy, became incredibly cool and I enjoyed spending a lot of time with him.

Here's the #1 thing that sucked about Man Camp: Porta Potties. Yes, that's what they had. Porta Potties. In the summer. Positioned IN THE DAMNED SUN! They had real potties too... but where were we? Far away from them. Eventually, it was like 2ish in the afternoon and me and Chris were like 'we are NOT going in those things!' so we decided to make the trek on foot to the potty... which... was... being cleaned for an hour! We missed it by 5 minutes! So we had to wait an hour for it to open again, and then we walked back up... only to find out that there was a closer potty about five minutes from camp by walk instead of thirty. It required less walking up and down.

By the night, my legs were killing me. Hardcore. Then I had to go again, and it was late and the potty had cooled down and I was like 'I can't even make it to the bathroom that's close without basically collapsing on the ground, in the dark, and nobody will know about it.' Weak legs, apparently slanted porta potty, and I feared that I would make like Elvis and fall off the cliff in the potty into the water. I didn't, I was glad.

Slept in the car, because I needed to watch TV, ended up killing the car battery. Funny how that works out. The next day we left, but we had to go visit another cousin, which just annoyed me. We also got stuck in the damned traffic due to TWO accidents when we were like twenty minutes from home! SUCKED!

Never again. I don't want to do that ever again. Not that I didn't have a semi-enjoyable time (Julian ended up being kind of cool, if you discount the fact that he's a stoner), but if that's the kind of turn out that I can expect when I have to go very much out of my way to make it? Screw that.

Oh, and mom blacked out last night. She's denying it, but other people are confirming. Who to believe?