This post is brought to you by Kelsey, who called me a slacker for not writing anything...
After our infamous night at Rooster's on Friday (see previous post), we decided that, since it wasn't raining Saturday, we'd go camping to our usual spot in Chilliwack.
Like lead paint, communism, and nailing fat chicks while drunk, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
It was fucking fun - no doubt about it - but holy shit was it cold once we ran out of firewood and retreated to our tents in a drunken stupor.
And, being the genius that I am, I only had one blanket and a sleeping bag, while most people had copious amounts of blankets. Although, in Kelsey's case, the blankets do you know good when a drunken, near-comotose Ian is lying on them like a lump, boots and all.
There were plenty of other things going on too. Pat, who was camping a few miles down the road with some other people, was at our spot most of the night drinking, and he had a carton of eggs and a jug of milk with him. He was planning on making pancakes in the morning, most likely to impress a girl.
Anyway, Pat stupidly left the milk in Gorski's cooler. And Chris and Gorski found the eggs just lying on the ground and decided to hide them. Pat came back in the morning, with dreams of fluffy pancakes in his head, but he left with nothing.
Pat: Okay guys, just here to get my eggs and milk. Where are they?
Us: The eggs are against that tree. We chucked them at it last night when we were drunk.
Pat: Oh....well then where's my milk?
Brad: I didn't like milk being in my beer cooler so I threw it in the river.
Pat: You fuckers.
And there was also another startling revelation made while me and Kelsey (and Rocky) drove up to Chilliwack:
Turns out I didn't get kicked out of the bar on Friday for nothing at all.
Instead, I shoved a bouncer.
From what we can figure, I came back from the bathroom and was standing with Kelsey for a minute. A bouncer was right there, sweeping up some broken glass. He wanted Kelsey to move, but rather than ask her, he just thwapped her in the leg with the broom. It was her sore, cut up leg (from last week's ball game) and I guess I didn't like that very much, so I shoved him. That's when I was escorted from the building.
I don't know if that's chivalrous, or stupid. Probably stupid.
Either way, I remember none of this, of course, but we pieced together the story from the bits we could recall.
And that was Saturday in a nutshell.
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