oh to receit that which once was.

I am sensitive to smells, I truly am, and it is most likely, of all the senses the one that I draw most attention to, and most likely bitch about on frequent.

How many times have you heard the camping phrase, "theres nothing like the smell of the campire". Oh the relaxing tendencies and stomach churning memories that this little staple of human escape brings to the historical party.

If you are reading this you have no doubt already learned about my weekend, seeing as the blogosphere is fortunate enough to be blessed with, oh a bigillion or so of my peers, and all of them went on the knights beach mit exodus this weekend. What they won't have shared with you however, is the fact that the smell of the campfire is both the best and worst smell to the human psyche depending on the moment you are noticing it in your trip.

The best time is clearly when its first lit, bologne sticks are skewered, marshamellow's prepped, and bebe guns cocked and pointed at bacon's naked body. Okay, the last moment is unique to this weekend, but you should of seen him, laughter never smelt so good.

The worst time however, occurs seventy two hours later, the monday after the day you got home, and couldnt keep your party weathered eyes open long enough to shower on the sunday. I tried washing my hair three times this morning only to still reek of the smell of burnt wood, mustard over hot dog, ashes, and car freshener (I camp in a metal palace called honda). Its now a smell medly complete with some papaya flavoured shampoo, a pineapple whiffed hair gel, and my now natural camp site odour that eminates from my head.

Needless to say, Im an irritated bugger, moreso than when brown stumbled upon us hot boxing his tent...sorry pappa brown, but paige said it was cool.

Anyways, here are my highlights from the weekend, but be sure to scroll down the first 10 names in the phresh phaces section of this journal, as you will be bombarded with memories from this weekends permanent smellapalooza.

highlights for me:

• the trip was supposed to take an hour and a half from Toronto. On friday our geography fell victim to a tornado watch, incredible rain volume, and a flooded highway at times, due to the weather condition. It took me two and half hours just to get Paige at Yorkdale, usually a twenty minute drive. From there Paige and I, as Paige and I do in our typical fashion, we are able to make our way to the supposedly 1 hour away campsite, with no directions, excessive mind numbing activities, and a detour into Hamilton to search out a unsearchable liquor store, in a quaint and comfortable 5 and a 1/2 hours. At one point we realized we were twenty minutes from London and somehow had gotten back on the 401. Our incredible miscommunication was bonded solely by our both believing that if we got directly under the moon we would find our campsite. Which after many wrong turns was a correct assumption as we pulled up to the fire at 11 pm, after leaving at quarter after 3 that afternoon in the direct moonlight over head. The gods wanted us to find it, oh yes. Paige I love you, lets ship ourselves to China.

• Bacon naked is incredibly comfortable. He is the epidome of a Porn Villain, and will be able for hire as either, Varsity Rapist, Dominatrix mace weilder, naked lion, or any other characters you can think up.
  

• Guns are weapons not play things. But playing with weapons can be funny.

• Five guys should never swim naked alone, its weird for the people on the beach.

• the blossoming of a threesome should not be interupted by a race to see who can pound a tall boy of max ice brew. i lost, and my chest hurt....it was filling with emotional hurrah two minutes prior. alex and paige are pretty:P

• wedding photographers who feel that an action shot of a wedding party in the midst of our football game are lame photographers. All right natural action people....riiiiight
  

• i am sick and dirty at football, and no one west of yonge will ever beat down the EAST. whitby/scarborough whaaat? like seriously though, i had sick moves...

that is all, check the links, dunn it in dunnville is not funny more than half of once.

posted by mr. tomas ubik @ Monday, August 22, 2005