Mouth breathers are going to be the death of me.
Last night I set my alarm for six o’clock in the morning. Normally it would be five, but because of a series of screw ups yesterday, the crew that was supposed to have our bridges in didn’t complete their end of the bargain. This means that I had to leave my truck and suitcase on the other side of the creek and scramble across to get a ride back to camp.
When I got here I was greeted with cold roast beef, mashed potatoes, and some peas mixed with brownish corn.
“No thanks, I’ll just grab some fresh vegetables from the salad table.” I told the cook.
“There is no fresh stuff until the order comes in tonight.”
“Are you kidding me?” I spew “These guys knew that we were coming back today and didn’t think to get some food? This is ridiculous. Fuck it, I guess I’ll have some mashed potatoes with it. Cheap assholes. ”
So I ate my cold beef with mashed potatoes, called my wife to bitch about my relatively shitty evening, had a shower, and then watched Kick Ass 2 on my laptop, because there is no internet connection unless I use my phone.
*Alarm set for 7 hours and 9 minutes from now*
Then I went to sleep.
That’s when the guy next to me started some sort of workout regimen.
Now, I’m not one to stifle another when it comes to enjoying the many fruits that their body provides for them, but give me a break. Do that shit before bed with the music turned up a bit, so that it’s not blatantly obvious that you are heartily whipping your mule. You don’t do it in the middle of the night when everyone is trying to sleep and the walls are so thin you can spit through them.
That’s just plain rude.
Now, because of the stories my friend Emmy has told me from when she was a campy, I can’t stop wondering what the hell is going on over there to cause such laboured breathing and violent rattling of the bed. Is he using some sort of toy? Does he have headphones in like I do when I’m watching my stories*? Is he alone, or did he have a caller in the night? I would totally not be mad if he was tearing off a piece of camp strange, but I highly doubt that that’s the case here.
As I was speculating, He got up, opened his door, and yelled down the hall to see if some other inconsiderate asshole wanted to get a coffee in the morning. The asshole yelled back that he did not want that, so he was told that he could fuck himself.
Hello, kettle? You’re black. Love, Pot.
He then went back to sleep and I started watching Love And Other Drugs. Without the headphones. Mmmmm, Anne Hathaway.
Rise and shine, motherfucker.