Being an Old Lutheran I prefer “Katie My Rib Rub” but I may try yours as well.
And besides Gatopescado – its not like the proportions were included or anything.
unless you want to include them of course
metaphorical screeching of tires as I lock up the brakes
Wait…
Whut???
B…B…Bathhouse? As in a bucket with a camping toilet seat, plastic bag and a tarp draped over some sort of hastily erected frame right? The kind that looks likenit would blow away or fall down in a mildly ambitious but not really breeze right?
Oh dear Gawd at your piddle story horror!
I think every woman has had at least one occasion with nightmare facilities. But the BYOP deal puts you ahead of the pack!
I hope you didn’t use hand sanitizer on your hoo-hoo!
You now have a permanent, engraved in gold excuse to NEVER go to Deer Camp, as long as you live!
~VOW
(Depending on how badly you want revenge, you COULD remove all TP from your house AND HIDE IT!)
Noooooooo! No sanitizer on the hoo-hoo. I just drip dried. Cleaned up at home.
It’s actually a frame built structure with a shower, toilet and sink. And running water. Ah, I remember when they built it. It was really kinda nice. I donated a few old beach towels (little mermaid and spongebob) to the unveiling.
Now it’s the black hole of the plague. No one has ever cleaned the toilet. And from the looks (and smell) of those guys not one has taken a shower since they they left home.
I doubt very seriously there’s a bar of soap at the camp.
You might want to construct a decontamination station before the gentlemen return home.
She’s not a wet blanket. She is the all-important ingredient of any performance: the audience. What’s the fun of putting on a horror show if there’s nobody screaming?
That’s a good way to describe the designated ‘Party Pooper’
Actually the kids and assorted dogs always appreciate my presence.
This thread has taken a turn into the…
Well. Nevermind.
It would be easier to go to the Post Office and fill out a Change of Address card for Mr Wrekker.
I mean…a toilet that has NEVER been cleaned? My creeps have creeps! I wish I still had Xanax. I might just check an old purse or pockets for just that. Hell, even a TicTac might help!
shuddering
~VOW
Running water and a shower?!? I, I don’t know what to say to that…I, I’ve never heard of such luxuries as a shower on a hunting trip. Running water, sure, heck a twenty foot travel trailer with a heater and stove and fridge and beds and flush toilet inside where it’s warm, even HOT running water, but a shower? My flabber has been gasted. That’s practically a luxury safari.
Nothing’s too good for the Deer “glamp”
Being the fact that Mr.Wrekker will spend a good part of 6 weeks out there, he needs his utilities working and semi-accommodating. He not above driving for 5 whole minites to come home to shower. Leaving my bathroom in a need of sanitizing.
Wait a sec, camp is a whole five minutes away???
Yes, sad to say. I live in the deer woods. The deer camp is actually closer to town than I am.
About, IDK…15 years ago I kicked all deer hunters out of my house, forever. My house had turned into the base of operations, an HQ of hunters paradise, if you will.
Cleaning and cooking and accommodating these guys got really too too much. I closed the door. Pitched a bitch-fit and placed my house off limits.
They then formed a camp committee and bylaws and bulit themselves a camp on a piece of land closer to the Leased land. They also built a ‘joint’, it’s a private club for beer drinkin’, poker playing and general revellry that Beck don’t care to know about.
Sometimes a woman just has to put her foot down.
Hate to break it to you, but you actually do like going to deer camp. Because you go, and you haven’t said “Nope, never again” yet.
My wife joined me and my friends at the local tavern for a Packer game… once. That was enough for her, and she was honest with me: “I don’t enjoy it, there’s nothing I want to eat, you all act like high schoolers, so I’m never going again.”
Every once in a while, as I’m heading over, I’ll wink and say “Save you a seat…” And she’ll roll her eyes and say “Text me if there’s anything healthy over there.” [there’s not]
But I appreciate her straight shootin’! I mean, that’s so much better than her stopping by and being uncomfortable.
ETA: Just read your last post, Beck. Arrrggh, it was so much worse before! congrats for escaping the much worse fate of that stuff going on where you live!
Yep, it’s only 5 minutes away but miles and miles in my relief.
When my kids were younger going to the camp was considered a treat. So I took them out there and hung around to make sure nothing happened to them. I don’t need to do that anymore. Son-of-a-wrek is there as much as he can be. He doesn’t have unlimited time off. The girls could careless about it. DIL and mid-daughter take their kids out there on a limited basis.
Ol’Beck is just done with it.
[Dean Wormer]And that foot is ME![/Dean Wormer]
A disgusting deer camp is nothing but a ploy to keep women folk away. The camp will get progressively grosser until all wives stop showing up. Once that happens, the camp will remain fetid for several years just in case there is a surprise visit. Eventually, and this may take a generation or more, the camp will be deemed safe from unwanted guests. A door will be placed on the outhouse and hunters will bring their own bed linens/sleeping bags and take them home at the end of the camp. Showers, including the use of soap (unscented so as to not spook the game) become almost commonplace. Its really just a battle of wills but the end result is always the same.
Yeah. I’m terminslly grossed out snd I don’t get invited to the yearly camp ‘clean-up’. Yay!
Camp ‘clean-up’ is a euphemism for ‘Party’ anyway. Just like ‘I’m going to check my deer feeders’ is really a reason to ride that expensive piece of junk: The ATV. Gawd.
They just think I don’t know.
Don’t get me wrong. Mr.Wrekker can have all the fun he wants. He loves his outdoors and hunting snd fishing. Good for him. He spent a long career travelling, working and providing us a nice lifestyle. He deserves his Deer camp, Lakehouse and joint. I’m even ok with his trips to Texas and Mexico for hunting and fishing. Whatever makes him happy.
Just as long as I am only required to make the odd appearance. He knows I can only stand so much.
Plus, the Siameezers don’t enjoy how I smell if I’ve been there. They clack their jaws at me and hide til I shower it off. And lord knows, I can’t be upsetting their Royal highnesses.