So I'll dig it up and bury it in the ground

One more story from my camping trip to the desert a couple of weeks ago.  We were out trying to catch lizards and snakes if we could find them, and my friend started talking about how we probably wouldn't see any rattlesnakes because people tend to kill them when they see them. 

"Which is kind of ridiculous when you think about it.  A lot of people you talk to about it will say they know someone who's been bit or whose kid has been bit.  Especially in the mid-west.  But if you look into it, there are actually very few documented cases of snake bites in the U.S., and even fewer deaths."

Later that afternoon he said he was bummed out that he hadn't seen any rattlesnakes.

I facetiously said, "I'm glad they've all been killed off.  I used to have six kids.  Now I have three.  Lost three to snake-bites.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to bury a toddler?"

He answered, "It can't be that hard.  I'd think about three or four shovelfuls ought to do the trick."

I've got friends in all the right places, I know what they want and I know they don't want me to stay

When we were coming home from the desert last weekend, my friend's check engine light came on just as we passed through a small town.  Being a Sunday afternoon, there wasn't any repair shop open, but he didn't feel comfortable pushing on to the next town and risking doing further damage to his vehicle, so we opted to stay the night so we could have it looked at in the morning.  After looking around town to see what our options were, we decided to rent a cabin at a campground in town.  There wasn't much to it, just a queen sized bed, some bunk beds, and an air conditioner.  It was good enough.

At one point, my friend looked at his lady friend and said, "What are we going to do tonight when we're having sex and [Minnow] is going to be right there?  You're going to have to keep it quiet."

She got really embarrassed.

I said, "You can be quiet or you can be loud, it won't matter to me.  I'll have my ear buds in."

"Are you serious?" she asked.

I answered, "Yeah.  That way I won't be able to hear it when you guys tell me to stop masturbating while I watch you."

Underneath the blue neverending sky

Oh, hi there. I believe I promised some pictures of my trip to Sedona, didn't I? Well, I have some. If you're really nice I'll let you see them.

What's that? You promise to be really nice? Ok, here are a few pics.

And just for good measure, here's a video showing that I'm still capable of being daring. I was a trendsetter here. This wasn't my first jump, but I was the first to do it.

Now that you've seen the pictures I'll tell you this: You should have asked what my definition of really nice was before you agreed to my terms.

Well I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed that they really didn't want us around

Last week we had our annual Valley of Fire campout. I'll spare you most of the details, but thought I'd give you the following examples of why the people I work with are hilarious.

Example 1
Guy 1: How long's it been since you last shaved?
Me: I don't know. Two or three days.
Guy 1: It looks like a pre-pubescent mustache on a kid.
Guy 2: He wishes!

Example 2
Guy 1: Look helicopters. I guess the strippers are finally here.
Me: I wish. Two helicopters full of strippers showing up would probably be the best thing that's ever happened in my life.
Guy 2: Yeah, it probably would.

Example 3
Or you get to hear exchanges such as this:
"I believe it."
"Yeah, but you're mormon. You'll believe anything."

Example 4
Or this:
I'm* gonna chili-whip your ass





*Happens to be one of the most 'proper' people I've ever met

Lying on my back staring up at heaven, hoping that Jesus might save a place for me, but I'm not askin'

I went camping last night. We went to the Valley of Fire again, but this time there were fewer people and no fireworks (oh wait, we didn't do that last time either, because that would be wrong). I figured it might be a good way to take my mind off things, and it was, for a while. We got there later than we'd planned because traffic was bad. Something big was going on at the Las Vegas Speedway and I'm guessing it was Nascar related (I've never understood why people can stand to watch that stuff, but now that it's been proven that I'm stupid, maybe I should give it a try). It took us over two hours to get there when it's normally only about a 40 minute drive. Even so, we lucked into getting the last available site at the campground, and were able to get everything set up before dark, so things turned out fine.

We got a nice fire going, and grilled some garden burgers and sausages (what a combination, eh?) and had a good time just sitting and talking. A couple of my friends had a better time than the rest of us though. They downed an entire bottle of whiskey between the two of them, but I'm sure they regretted downing said bottle of whiskey when they woke up this morning. As usual, I was offered my share, but declined. I'm still not ready to take up drinking, but I guarantee that if I did, I could get all my drinks free for at least a month.

Sometime after midnight I had the job of making sure everyone got to bed safely, then turned in myself. I was out fairly quickly, but unfortunately that only lasted until around 3 a.m. Then I got to lie there for the next 3 hours just staring at the sky. The stars were beautiful, but I would have preferred to sleep. I decided then that it would sure be easier to take my mind off things if I just had a pretty girl to make out with. I saw a few shooting stars, and kept wishing for Scarlett Johansson to appear so I could do just that, but she didn't (she was on t.v. when I got home though, I wonder if it's a sign). I eventually drifted off again, but only made it until the sun came up. I had a headache (and still do), but I'm sure it's not as bad as what at least two of my friends had.

We packed up camp and headed back to town, but this time the freeway was completely shut down. Traffic was stopped for as far as we could see, so we had to turn around and go the super long way home. This time it took us over three hours. I don't know what was going on, but I'm hoping that God decided to smite the Nascar fans that were at the speedway, and ended up damaging the freeway in the process. Oh wait, no, He wouldn't do that, not to some of his biggest fans.

Don't worry, I'm almost done moping around.

I went down, down, down and the flames went higher

Last night was "Guy's Night Out." At least that's what it was termed in the email I got a few weeks ago that was announcing our little trip to the desert (of course, being that I don't currently have a girlfriend one could argue that any night I go and do something could be given that same title, but I digress). A bunch of guys from the department went out to Valley of Fire to celebrate the end of the semester. Yes, professors and grad students look forward to finals being over every bit as much as undergraduates do.

We left mid-afternoon so that we could beat rush hour traffic, but in our haste to get on the road, I forgot to tell my friend to stop at a convenience store so I could pick up some snacks. Luckily, there is an Indian casino/fireworks stand right where you get off the freeway to head toward the park, so we stopped there before heading out to the camp site.

We arrived at the perfect time of day as we had a great view of the valley, and there was plenty of daylight left for climbing around on the rocks and getting stuff going on the grill. It turned out to be a total sausage fest, and not just because it was all dudes, almost everyone had bratwurst to grill. We were able to watch the moon rise while we ate dinner. That's always a good thing.

Needless to say, there was mass alcohol consumption throughout the evening (at least for everyone but me, I don't drink). Rest assured that we did not pick up any fireworks when we stopped on the way to the park. I did not throw any firecrackers onto the coals in the grill to try and startle those who were grilling and continue to do that with the fire throughout the evening. We most certainly did not light off Roman Candles after dark only to have one brightly colored, fiery ball bounce off a rock wall and almost hit a guy who was standing at the base of it. Of course we didn't do that because there are no fireworks allowed in the park so that would have been wrong.

There were some members of the group who started referring to the place as Brokeback Valley. I think that had something to do with the fact that you could overhear comments such as these throughout the night:

"I'm telling you man, after one more beer you're going to start looking pretty good to me."

or,

"Did you bring the sleeping bag?"
"I brought a sleeping bag."
"Are you saying I can't sleep with you tonight?"
"Ok, fine, but I get to be the big spoon."

or,

"Hey, I'm going to lie right down on that cot with you. Don't act like you don't want it."
"Is that the same sweet talk you used to bag your girlfriend?"

And to be completely honest, I ended up with fire in my pants by the end of the night. Not the figurative fire in the pants that I would have had if I were a gay guy overhearing such witty banter, but a literal fire in my pants. Some embers popped out of the fire and went up the leg of my shorts. I burned my leg, and burned my hand when I tried to get it out. Not badly, but enough to cause about a minute of discomfort.

It was a great time. It's fun to be loud and obnoxious until the wee hours of the morning. It's even better when there aren't any other campers nearby, so you don't have to feel too guilty about it. I ended up going to bed around 3 a.m., but unfortunately awoke around 7 when the sun started to cook me in my sleeping bag. Any incoherence in this post can be attributed to lack of sleep, 4 hours doesn't quite cut it for me, but I still can't wait until next time.