Indiana survived
I was planning to create an elaborate post on the life and times of the Ruckus Reunion Camp in Indiana but, truthfully, even remotely reminiscing on the camp exhausts me; therefore, I am going to limit myself to the following pictures and brief commentary.
This would have been ideal foreshadowing; however, as it was revealed following the camp it should read: "something wicked has come and gone and *whew* you survived it."
The backwoods of Indiana were full of creepy guys like Mike. I christened him with a flattering, yet trendy, new nickname...henceforth Mike shall be known to all as Sugar Tits. His gratitude was overwhelming - particularly when my sister taught the youngest twins (aged 2) to identify him as such.
*Shudder* Creepy, creepy mustache guy.
Speaking of creepy hair, here is the illustrious kitchen crew with which I generally rabble roused.
Yes, most of the hair are wigs; however, provided with the opportunity, Roger would have been stoked to sport that horrid mullet in the following months. It would have fabulously complimented his cut-off acid-wash jean shorts. Now all he needs is a creepy mustache too.
Here is a demonstration of a banner-hang followed by some random monkeys in the scaffolding.
Finally, remember bears are strictly forbidden from utilizing the sidewalks.
Aside from the numerous noxious pests, that was the totality of camp: Roger's hair, a bunch of ropes on metal structures, Mike's wicked new nickname and being overworked for days on end. Yup, still living the sweet life.
Rosalita Bones.
This would have been ideal foreshadowing; however, as it was revealed following the camp it should read: "something wicked has come and gone and *whew* you survived it."
The backwoods of Indiana were full of creepy guys like Mike. I christened him with a flattering, yet trendy, new nickname...henceforth Mike shall be known to all as Sugar Tits. His gratitude was overwhelming - particularly when my sister taught the youngest twins (aged 2) to identify him as such.
*Shudder* Creepy, creepy mustache guy.
Speaking of creepy hair, here is the illustrious kitchen crew with which I generally rabble roused.
Yes, most of the hair are wigs; however, provided with the opportunity, Roger would have been stoked to sport that horrid mullet in the following months. It would have fabulously complimented his cut-off acid-wash jean shorts. Now all he needs is a creepy mustache too.
Here is a demonstration of a banner-hang followed by some random monkeys in the scaffolding.
Finally, remember bears are strictly forbidden from utilizing the sidewalks.
Aside from the numerous noxious pests, that was the totality of camp: Roger's hair, a bunch of ropes on metal structures, Mike's wicked new nickname and being overworked for days on end. Yup, still living the sweet life.
Rosalita Bones.
posted by jinx at 2:36 AM
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