Beckdawrek and the bad, bad, bad deer camp experience(or another year keeping my mouth shut.)

Now look, I have germ issues. I realize it’s usually unwarranted. But the deer camp. It’s not sanitary, hell, it’s one step up from the dump. They do burn the actual garbage in a barrel that wwwwaaaayyyyy too close to where they expect me to be, eat, serve or go without a face mask. I’ve complained to the management (Mr.Wrekker) several times. For some reason my complaints haven’t been acted upon.
I drove up to the camp today. I was totally peeved that once again the burn barrel is close to the outdoor kitchen facilities (heh)
I was pleasantly surprised that someone had put clean butcher paper on the picnic tables. Son-of-a-wrek and another guy were busy butchering deer steak and drinking beer and having way too much fun, while sharp knives were around. I’m fairly certain hands were not washed, no gloves on, filthy clothes, no aprons. I ain’t eating that crap deer meat. Nope.
Mr.Wrekker assigned potatoe peeling to 3 younger guys. Nasty. I actually saw a half peeled potatoe land on the ground(where skoal is being chewed & spit), picked up and thrown in a bowl of grey water. Ain’t eating potatoes. Nope.
I had made a carrot cake and coleslaw. I asked big Wrek where to put it. Needs a fridge, I sez. He pointed to his Yeti cooler. No. This ain’t gonna work. You know those coolers are very expensive. Big $$$. I open his cooler and nearly threw up. Decidedly fishy aroma. I slammed it shut. He looked like I had wounded his best deer dog. I said, again, “Needs a fridge”. He says to go inside the big fridge is in there. Just move stuff around. Oh, my freakin’ god!! No explaining the odors that assaulted me when I open the camp door. Haven’t even got to the fridge yet.
I open the fridge. No shelves or crisper drawers are left in there. Stacked from top to bottom with cases of beer. 3 cans of diet coke in the door. There’s no way to move stuff around. I sat down for 1/2 second on someones sleeping bad on a bench seat. I realized my mistake and jump up. Nope. Not sitting there. Maybe I’ll drink one of those diet cokes. Nope. Brown stuff on the top.
I determine I need to remove 3 cases of beer to fit my bowl and cake plate it. I know, I know punishable by death. I holler out the door for Son-of-a-wrek to come in. (Dang it, boy don’t run with that knife). I tell him my predicament. He pushes his cap back on his head with the bloody knife. (He’s not gonna even rinse that knife, I know this)
He leaves and comes back with his Yeti, the one I bought for him for his birthday. Oh, my god it smells like death. He gets beer out and starts stacking it in the cooler. There’s ice in the freezer section. All in all he gets most of 2 cases in the cooler. I put some in the fridge door. I have room for my stuff. I ran out to breathe, walked right into a cloud of garbage smoke from the burn barrel. Dammit! Nope. I’m not gonna breathe, while here.
DIL and granddaughters show up. I’m talking to the kids, I overhear DIL ask big Wrek where her stuff she prepared should go. He points to his Yeti. Before I could stop her I heard a wretch. She throws her casserole in there and shuts the top. Nope. Not eating her casserole. Not tonight. I was counting on that casserole, too.
Have I told you all how much I hate deer season?

(Let’s not even get into the bathroom facilities. Nope. Not pee-ing here either, glad I didn’t drink that diet coke)

Sounds like a good time, maybe I should get me a “deer camp”

ETA sounds like you and DIL need your own yeti coolers. Perhaps you should use your artistic abilities to decorate them to avoid any confusion about who own which cooler (or the liberal application of hot pink paint and acid green paisley stencils)

I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking my cooler there. I may burn my clothing.

If you think Deer Camp is that bad, then do yourself a favor: don’t ever eat out in a restaurant again.

And while you’re at it, avoid grocery stores, too.

Trust me: you do NOT want to know.

Do your fingers cramp up from clutching those pearls so hard? :smiley:

My SIL is a chef. I know about restuarant kitchens. My germphobia knows no limits. I assure you all public places scare me. :slight_smile:

Da Yoopers - The Second Week of Deer Camp

This is pretty much my experience from my youth. Less blood, more vomit. I don’t bother with deer hunting any more.

Ah, ‘Da Yoopers’. Wow!

DIL, being her most helpful self brought me a plate of food from the camp. (I left early)
As soon as she left I walked out to the dog kennel and dumped it in their bowls. They looked askance at it. One Beagle, I call Linus who regularly eats poop, ate it. No one else even bothered.
Last I looked he was enjoying his carrot cake dessert.

And yet you will plow down Sonic corndogs. :confused: I think you need help.

We all have vices Gato. Shame about the carrot cake though…

No crap. I slaved over that boxed mix and canned icing. I added alittle extra stuff. Nothing’s too good for the deer-camp supper.

You underestimate the protective and restorative powers of the hot pink and green paisley armor, er paint. Not for you, not directly anyway, but for your loyal servant, the cooler.

I suggest picking another, smaller less obvious item and giving it a test run. Perhaps a tool box or some such and stock it with things like soap, wet wipes, napkins, hand sanitizer, etc to take with on forays to BigWreck’s deer camp or fishing hole (does he have a fishing hole?)

Oh, yeah. He has a lakehouse. Its an actual house. Better Homes and Gardens ain’t knocking on the door but its serves his needs. Which is fishing everyday he can possibly fish for the rest of his life. If you look in the window at night you’ll not see me. I’ll be at home, where my amenities meet my needs.:slight_smile:

How far from Deer Camp to the nearest Sonic?

It’s actually a few miles closer than my house. The only thing you can possibly buy out here is probably not legal. There is the giant Liquor emporium. But, It will be closing in 2 min. Til Monday at 8am.

I don’t. I have habits.

I would have *loved *to have some of that coleslaw.

My idea of ruffing it is a 56k connection.

If I had to take a load out there, I’d be heading back through my dust cloud.

Tell Son-of-a-wrek his talents are needed at your house for boar removal.

Oh, he spent last Saturday in the prone sniper position on my deck. He got 4 bigish feral pigs. His expensive Marine Corp. training finally paid off.
There’s a G&F official pig shoot to happen here next Saturday. Our land abuts state land so it suits them and us to cull some of the hogs. These yearlings are scary big. You oughta hear them fighting. Bad, bad, bad!
ETA, I’ve been carrying my long gun to walk the dogs.