Monday, September 12, 2011

Autumn is for falling leaves...and lowered expectations.

It's that time of year again. Time for our yearly trek to the local biker rally. Nothing says hard-assed biker like a weekend at the Bean Blossom Bluegrass Campground. Rebels we ain't. Thankfully we had various and sundry crazy folk to keep us entertained. We enjoy camping. Before we sold the camper, we spent many weekends "roughing it" with our expensive grill and ipod-compatible soundsystem. But camping at a biker rally? "That's a whole 'nuther dealio. First of all, we were sharing a camper with some friends. Their '89 Shaggin' Shack sleeps four people. This detail will become very important as the weekend progresses.
Weekend Address, Site 218. Once everyone is settled in and fed, it's time to go tour the facility and take stock of what is available for our unbridled amusement.
Probably NOT sanctioned by the Health Department
Probably working in her "Official Capacity" During a party a couple of weeks ago, I had a chance to re-connect with a friend from high school. As she is currently on a man-hunt, she expressed an interest in attending the rally with us. Now, never being one to deny another living soul the opportunity to see with their very own eyes the train-wreck spectacular that is a biker rally, I encouraged her to attend. (This had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I anticipated giggling with glee at the horrific expressions sure to come to her in light of what she was sure to see. Pinkie swear.) For the sake of anonimity, I will call her "Shaqueva Jackson". In fact, I may now call her Shaqueva forever. Or at least until I forget that I gave her a new name. After getting her settled and introduced to everyone at our campsite, I led her around the immediate area just to begin the acclimation process. (It's important to exposse yourself slowly to these things, so as to avoid getting the bends, or questioning your belief system.
Showing off his "talents" to a slightly uncomfortable Shaqueva. Last year, I posted about all the field games that take place as some sort of Biker Olympics. Yes I made sure that I marched Miss Shaqueva right down there so that she could witness the weenie catch herownself. I am convinced that she is now in awe of the technical skill required to bite the end off a dangling Oscar Mayer while perched on the back seat of a motorcycle.
Generally accepted method for beer transport.
*I don't even have any words for this, much less an explanation.* I took several more pictures of the field games, but honestly none of them were very good. In my defense, I was distracted by the Side-boob standing next to me.
I probably should put one of those black bars across her eyes like the magazines do, but she should really buy a damned mirror so really I'm calling it even-steven. As the weekend progressed more friends showed up and as predicted, much merriment ensued. We got a gander at the crowd gathered for the stripper pole contest, but since she was a first-timer, we generously gave Shaqueva the prime spot for viewing, complete with accompanying Cute Boy to hang on to for balance.
Trust me, you DO NOT want to see what was swinging around that pole. Shaqueva may have to bleach her brain to remove the image from her nightmares.
Some of the paint jobs on the bikes entered into the bike show were completely awesome. And the stuff nightmares are made of. (Sorry for the crappy picture quality, the bikes were parked under a red and white striped tent which made everything look like it was being viewed through some sort of bad 70's video. Here's pics of our gang in separate boys vs. girls pictures. Please do me a favor and count the number of people in these pictures.
*Not pictured, myself and Shaqueva. I was BEHIND the camera, obviously and Shaqueva had run off with a man who said he was a cop, but later his buddies completely ratted him out. He's actually the Street Commisioner, and is only a cop on the weekends. Which I'm not even sure is legal. Plus it WAS the weekend and he was running around in a golf cart sporting a sign reading "Needs Laid". Which actually is starting to make sense to me which only means that I need to wrap this up because I'm getting confused. So. To Recap..there's me and Shaqueva (2), and the three lovely ladies in the picture above (+3), and the four studly men in the picture before that (+4). Grand total of person in our campsite? NINE. Remember me stating earlier that the camper sleeps four? Um, yeah. Now, two of the people pictured brought a tent with them. Neither one of which was me. Or Shaqueva. So, nine minus two still equals seven adults to fit in the space of four. Twas a dilemna. Thankfully, after a certain BAC is reached, no one is real particular as to where they may or may not sleep. All available floor space in the camper was full of sleeping, snoring, bathroom-door-blocking bodies. Even Miss Shaqueva Jackson, who had never camped before, bedded down on the floor of the camper without complaint. Pretty damned tough for a first-timer and she handled it like a pro. As an award for how puffed-up proud I am, I will not post the pictures of her sleeping on the floor. For your viewing pleasure, some random pics from the weekend. Because I'm tired. And I have an assload of laundry to do because everything we took with us smells like campfire smoke and water that large pigs bathed in. So just look at the damned pictures and I'll be back later to answer any questions you may have.
Leave your questions in the comments and I'll get back to them as soon as my therapist says I can deal with it, or the pills kick in.


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