The $55 frog...

On the run from an actor turned serial killer, I was sure one of us would be dead by dusk. The whole group headed off to the Omish diner for some breakfast. I didn't have a solid grasp on the whereabouts of Borat but I knew he was off somewhere with his backpack and alleged body parts. With that knowledge it felt safe enough to eat. We were seated in a booth facing the window. Like a true mafioso, I always choose the seat that backs up to the wall and faces the window. This way I am safe from a sneak attack and I can see the enemy before it sees me. Paranoid? Perhaps, but who woulda thunk I'd be camping next to the killer from Khasigstan, right?! I'm not a big breakfast eater but I do like a dose of "Shit on a Shingle" every now and again. That's chipped beef for those who have yet to experience the SOSgasm. No sooner did I put a bit shit covered biscuit in my mouth and Borats head appeared in the window! My worst fears confirmed, I instinctively grabbed for my knife. I think I screamed something like, "I am seeing a Borat in Omish Diner!" By the time everyone looked up, he was gone. He would appear one more time in that very same window before he snuck off to plot his next move. I did manage to give him my "You betta not even think about touchin my peeps or I'll roast your dick over the camp fire" look. It's effective.


Everyone was starting to wonder if I was right about Borat. We decided it would be best to split up. Translation, the chicks were going to the lake and the guys to a car show. On our way to the lake we drove through town. As we stopped at the four way stop, guess who was sipping on a serial cappachino? It was a Borat! I decided to ignore this sighting for fear I was going insane. If I saw his hairy ass at the lake, he was going down! My aunts, my mother, myself and some cousins make this trip every year. We bring lots of junk food, lay in the sun and swim. Good times. I clearly go for the food. There's nothing like hanging out in a bikini while eating Heleva Good French Onion dip. It throws people off. One year I decided it would be a good idea to eat as much dip as I could and then run a half marathon later that night. Not a good plan. The weeds are still about 5 inches higher in the spot where I deposited that dip. I think it was about mile 10. It didn't help that someone along the way offered me water and I guzzled it. Did I mention it was sulfur water?! Doesn't mix well with running, heat and Heleva Good dip. That incident cost my Dad his tank top. I don't think he wants it back...can't be sure.


The day at the lake went of without a hitch. No Borat. We headed back to the camp site to cook dinner and head off for the "big Friday night at the fair." Did I mention that this camper made a pit stop at the house for a power nap? As you can see, camping at a Marriott is much more my speed. While I was counting sheep, hubby dearest was marinating pork tenderloin for the grill. Yummy. I like when I sleep and dinner is being planned without my help. Makes me happy. As soon as I woke up and showered, I called for my driver. Yeah Mom had to come and get me. When I got back to the camp, dinner was in full swing. There was pork tenderloin on the grill and macaroni salad in the cooler. Of course I needed to get an update on Borats locale. He was wandering around talking to some campers that had the unfortunate experience to be camping next to him. He still managed to keep one eye on us. My hope was that the new neighbors would take one for the team and he would let us live. Once again Dad thought we should invite him to dinner. Why couldn't he see that if something didn't change one of us was going to be his dinner! Am I the only logical one here? Perhaps.I did what I always do when presented with a challenge. I sat down with my good friend Bud Light and plotted out a game plan. I came up with the following...leave in the cover of night, run off to the fair and leave the others to die. I have a keen ability to separate family from logic in these situations. Appreciate that for a moment. Now be thankful we aren't related.

The fair seemed quite tame for a Friday night; until I saw "her." I would like to tell you that she was fat and sitting on a picnic table but we all know I am a bit more colorful than that. There she was propped up about as close to the donut booth as one could safely get without losing a finger. I know there was a picnic table under her somewhere bcs I think I saw a corner of it sticking out of her ass! She was (to the best I can tell) 896 lbs of pure lard! I don't wish to be mean but let's think about this shall we? Let's take me for starters. I gain 10 lbs and that's likely to slip by unnoticed until I put on something I want to wear and realize it's a little tight. How does 789 lbs slip by you?! Do you wake up one day and go, "Hmmmm, something looks different?" Seriously! She was clearly at the point where the fire dept had to knock out walls in order for her to come out and play. My husband was literally in shock. I think I saw him throw me that "You betta not eva get that fat" look. Whatever. Here's the best part...she had a man! Note to husband....you can be replaced by someone with less stringent requirements. I kid you not, when she got up, the picnic table literally came back to earth. I think I heard it say, "Thank you Jesus." And they all said Amen.


My husband went on to win me a $55 stuffed frog. It's tradition. Much like many dumb things that males do, he believes he can beat the carnies at their own game. They may be fugly but I think they have one up on you honey! The game of choice was darts. In our basement this man can throw a bulls eye with his eye closed, on one leg, backwards. With $55 on the line he was like Stevie Wonder at the carnival! The "dart operator man" suggested that I throw the last shot. Finally a man with some sense. I think he could see the potential in my eyes. Or maybe he saw my dialated pupils from the Bud Light. I'll never know for sure. I put on my carney thinking cap. I knew the big money balloons would be on the top row. Bam! Nailed it and won the frog....for which I got no credit. Apparently the $54 that proceeded my money shot led up to the level that allowed us to win such a coveted prize. Pure propaganda. So, I went back to the beer tent where I always reign victorious. I had $40 in beer tickets to squander before my father put them back in the envelope for next year.

We headed back to camp in hopes that we could survive one more night with the Killer from Khasigstan. I had left him alone with 3-4 victims for at least two hours. Surely they would have tired him out. Our last night in the tent was uneventful. That is other than my random peeing in the bushes, my mothers midnight Mary Kay runs and my husbands attempts to have sex with me whilst (new fav word) my entire family was in arms length of us. Nice honey. I wait all year for sex and this is your plan. Stay tuned for the last day of camping. I come face to face with the infamous Borat on the trails with his backpack.....scary. Spoiler...he let me live.