Barreling Through Christmas With Determination and Valium

So far, I haven't allowed my depression from not having Mom around get to me this year.  It's been 6 years since she's been gone and she was truly the glue, along with my grandpa, holding the family together.  Now the family is fragmented.  One won't attend a Christmas gathering because so and so will be there and another will make it impossible to reach because they don't care about getting together for one reason or another and on and on it goes.

You would think everyone could put aside their differences and petty hates to get along but nah... no such luck.

Still, I'm barreling through the four and possibly five different family Christmas gatherings that I have attended and possibly will attend- that is determined if we can ever reach him.  One of these gatherings is coming up Christmas day.  Unfortunately, we're hosting it.  It is exhausting so far, with the house cleaning part, decorating windows, food preparation and so on.  Nope, not my idea.  I'm doing all of this strictly for my significant other.

She deserves it, wants it and it will make her happy as long as I don't lose my temper, become frustrated and stick the tree up somebody's ass, completely obliterating their colon.  That last part, knowing the in-laws, could happen.  I can count on them to make things even more difficult and convoluted than they need to be.  An old story.

This never worked for me.  Not even with that toothless meth addicted midget I found in the alley.  Her oozing sores were a dark Christmas red and green.

I'm usually an old grouch, Grinch and sometimes, a full on bastard around the holidays.  I don't want to be but that's just how it is.  My depression, frustration with crowds, family, traffic and all things stressful, pushes me to the edge. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for being a little less than festive- well, a lot less festive the last 6 years and I'm desperately trying to make up for it.  Yes, this time around, I am really trying to make things as good as they can be this Christmas- for the wifey and for lovable ol' me.

What a beautifully festive display.  Someone finally gets it right.

The positive approach is better than being negative.  No matter what obstacle has been thrown my way, I've tried to make the best of it.  Hell... why not?  And you should see all the nice gifts I got my Sweety this year.  Jewelry, even!  Gosh, I'm a hell of a guy.  And I haven't broken the bones in my hand with all of the patting myself on the back one bit.

What a happy-go-lucky elf I am.  Not at all driven to insanity with all this holiday cheer and shit.

Yesterday, it was raining for the 10th day in a row.  I hurriedly got in my truck, got my rain poncho out and came back inside, on the bottom floor.  I was bound and determined to go for a walk in the park.  Fuck the monsoon we were having around this goddamn area.  I didn't feel like going up the stairs to my apartment and putting it on.  Instead, I put the rain poncho on downstairs in front of the neighbor's door at the bottom of the stairs.  Sure enough, while my head was buried and I was scrambling to get this rain poncho on right, the neighbor woman below, with her baby in her arms, pops out her door, suddenly and scares the shit out of me.

"Goddamn!," yelled I.  I added, "Holy shit!"

The neighbor smiled and then asked a stupid question, "Is it raining?"

I was soaked from my head down to my boots.

I do so much love it when people do this.  When people ask me obvious questions, I immediately get a boner.  In fact, anytime someone does something ridiculous in front of me, I sport wood.  Fuck, I must be hard all the time, eh?  Pull out in front of me, suddenly, with your crappy little Smart car and I'll pitch a tent in my pants like no other.  Of course, I will run over your Tonka Toy piece-o-shit with my big V-8 pickup truck while doing so, but hey, isn't that showing some Christmas spirit?

Anyway, after ranting away about how dismal the weather has been in the area, I told the neighbor to have a Merry Christmas.  Maybe a little forcibly, in tone, though I didn't meant to say it like that.  She wished me the same, politely, and said she had to go to work.  I wondered how she was going to go to work with a baby in her arms, but, oh well.

Maybe I'll be give her a little Christmas cheer and let her have the close parking space next to the main apartment door below a couple times.  I'm a real giver this year.

Anyway, Merry Christmas, everyone.  Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to disrupt my blog posting challenge for the next few days because of the overwhelming upcoming events I'll be working on.  Family feasts and more.  That means I won't be able to post anything for the next two days, at least.  Believe me.  I would much rather do the blogging thing than- wait a minute- I gotta be positive no matter what.

Wish me luck!

A Praying Mantis by my door, waiting to ponce on me and bite my head off.  I did mate with her, after all, and that's how they do it in Praying Mantis World.  Begone, vile fucked up looking monster!  I will forever regret fucking you in the ass.  Especially now that my head has been bitten off.

Alice Cooper- Santa Claus is Coming to Town

I like Alice Cooper's version of this song better than anyone else's. It rocks!

Krampus- Santa's Sidekick

I remember when I was a kid and this evil looking thing with horns on it's head busted down the bedroom door and snatched me by the scrawny neck, looked me in the eyes and said, "You're going to take my place one day."

Then he threw his ghastly head back and let out a long howl, quickly followed by sinister laughter.

My dog, Sparky, came into the room and began gnawing on the demonic dude's ankle.  I suppose Sparky was defending me, in his mind.  Krampus calmly bent down, picked Sparky up by the scruff of his neck and said, "I'm gonna shit on your head," quite matter-of-factly.

As promised, Krampus took good ol' Sparky to the bathroom, plopped him in the bathtub and took a big healthy demonic dump on his furry lil head.  Sparky shook the steaming turds off his noggin, yelped and ran out the door.  It turns out that demon shit smells like a mix of honeysuckle and pinewood.  But it still looks like regular shit.  Except for the half-digested human head or two.

Meanwhile, I listened to Krampus' footsteps as he went downstairs and opened the refrigerator door.  Deeply exhausted from a busy day of playing Kick The Retarded Boy Across The Street, I fell fast asleep again.  I came to find out the morning after, that he had made himself a sandwich, before leaving the house and judging from the looks of things, he preferred the corned beef over turkey.  I thought that was a good choice.

Sharing a laugh with good ol', jolly ol' St. Nick.  It makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Had I known back then that I was dealing with a Krampus, I guess I would have been a bit more frightened.  But he seemed like an honest, straight-forward guy that really knew who he was in life and was okay with that.  I always say, The one who deludes himself in life is one of the biggest fools of all.  I know I'm certainly not the first to say something like that.  I've read of that same general idea here and there and you likely have, as well.

In any case, I have this info about Krampus, a mythical creature that has it's roots in German folklore, I'd like to share.  One of my sources is from Wikipedia.  The other is from the video description on YouTube.

Krampus is Santa Claus' whip-toting Christmas sidekick.  According to legend, Krampus joins Santa where he tends to the children on Santa's naughty list.  Krampus whips the children into shape with his whips  or carries them off in his sack.

The early Catholic Church discouraged celebrations based around the wild goat-like creatures and during the Inquisition, efforts were made to stop the celebrations, completely.  However, Krampus figures persisted and by the 17th century Krampus had been incorporated into Christian winter celebrations by pairing him with St. Nicholas.

As fascinating as those last two paragraphs were, I like this video, below, better.

I can't believe that's Anthony Bourdain of the show, Anthony Bourdain- No Reservations and his Layover show.  I like Anthony Bourdain and his No Reservations show (he cooked with Christopher Walken, one of my favorite actors, just recently) but he carries a fairly snarky or cynical tone when he speaks.  In this video, the voice narration conveys a congenial or happy mood while the story is being told.

Go figure.    

Christmas Checklist

It's a good idea to have a handy check list made out around this busy time of year. I learned that a list will help you keep organized and right on schedule.

Here's a few things I have on my to do list:

If you would like to make your own Christmas To Do List or any kind of list, click here. 

Beautiful Christmas Ornaments

Oh, what a treat!  You're all cordially invited to gaze upon this fine collection of whimsical, inspirational, aesthetically pleasing holiday treasures in this most excellent post at Psycho Carnival.  Behold!

Wouldn't this wonderful firefighter/merman hybrid decoration look fantastic on your tree this year?  If you can find his special taint button, he may just give you a good holiday hosing.

What a magnificent addition this bacon strip ornament would be on your tree this holiday season.  Nothing quite conveys the true meaning of Christmas like a lovingly crafted ornament such as this.  And I double dog dare you not to eat this appealing work of art while no one is looking.  Shhh.  I won't tell if you won't.

Look, everyone!  Why... it's a graceful ballerina, enchanting one and all with the fluidity of her magical moves and oddly proportioned bosom.  If I were a betting gentleman, I would say those nipples could poke an eye out.  

If you're searching for something charming to hook onto your special tree this year, look no further.  These  extraordinarily delightful zombie gingerbread men will enthrall family member and friend alike.  You'll be the envy of the entire neighborhood, for certain.  And if you're not sure if that is authentic blood gushing from their heads and legs, cast those doubts away.  That's real blood- from fresh newborn kittens.  Merry Christmas.   

What an endearing character this jolly character is!  He has the kind of winsome smile that guarantees you and your loved ones won't have reason to fear that he will suddenly sprout a torso, arms and legs and crawl up the stairs, like a crazed spider, enter your bedroom and bite you repeatedly under the sheets, shredding your flesh with delightful abandon.  

It's certain you'll fall in love with this beautiful doll of an ornament.  Her name is Lil' Mandy MissyLimbs  Just look at the delicate features of her hands and feet.  Upon closer inspection, the happy faraway look in this little girl's eyes seems to be conveying a positive message of peace and goodwill to all during this glorious holiday season.  Note:  Please be careful NOT to barely touch Lil' Mandy's mid-section or her entrails will likely fall out as if they were blobs of rancid jello.  Seasons Greetings!

I'm not quite sure what to make of this fucking thing.  Happy Holidays!

If you're looking for pleasant, finely crafted ornaments that appeal to your  playful side, why not choose these two  wonderful works of art?  The first ornament is of a snowman showing off his caring, gentle nature by cheerfully carrying his lady friend to a house made of frosted donut balls.  The second ornament reveals a scene where a good Samaritan is happily assisting a being of snow with his slightly bent lower carrot.

What inspiring lessons we can learn from these adorable figures!  Both of these would make wonderful gifts for the elderly and/or religious in your family.

We, here, at Psycho Carnival, heartily and sincerely wish you and your loved ones the very merriest of a happy holiday season this year.  May your cheery red yule logs and festive bearded clams become hard and wet with the joy that these  decorations will bring you this Christmas.  Noel! 

Why Santa May Be a Little Late This Year

Gotta make this a quickie video post, guys.  Been doing the Christmas type visiting and shopping all day/all night and I'm too pooped to pop an elaborate post outta my festive, holly jolly holiday ol' butt.  In any case, watch this video and feel the warmth of Christmas magic.  Let the kids watch for extra fun.  I'm not responsible for any future therapy, however.

The Furious Gingerbread Man

The Gingerbread Man was furious.  With weapon in hand, he was determined to slay those who dared to stand in his way.  For too many years, his brethren had been made for the sole purpose of being devoured.

"Why must this be the way of things?" asked The Gingerbread Man.

He raised his hardened cake fist, shook it furiously and sobbed.

Somehow, he thought to himself, he would find a way to make humanity pay.

Suddenly, a dog came up and began munching on his gingerbread penis.  This made The Gingerbread Man even more furious.  The Gingerbread Man cried out, "I will be eaten no longer!  I have rights!  How dare you eat me!"

The dog, blown away by the fact that a cookie was talking to him, said, "Well, if this isn't some freaky shit, I don't know what is."  And then the dog walked off, shaking his head and vowed to get some therapy.  He realized, in those moments, that the preceding event would likely scar him for life if he didn't receive help and support with this issue.  And then he licked his balls.

Furious, the Gingerbread Man ran as fast as he could back to his gingerbread house.  He poured himself a drink and began to relax. Just as his nerves were beginning to settle, a man child approached and took a huge bite out of his home.

"Oh no you didn't!" screamed the really incredibly furious gingerbread man.

The man child took another big bite off the top of the roof, gobbling up a chocolate candy heart.

"MMMM... Tasty," said the man child, as cookie crumbles fell out of his mouth.  The man child continued eating the gingerbread house with as much enthusiasm as a crack addict scoring a rock after being without a high for a day.

Finally, the man child's mother called out the man child's name and the little brat reluctantly ran to her, throwing a tantrum and pissing himself before throwing a fork at his mom's head.

The mother plucked the embedded fork from her forehead and with a reassuring tone, she said, "Ohhhh... that's okay, dear.  Mommy will get a boo boo band aid for her head and then mommy will let you eat the rest of the gingerbread house because you are such a good little boy."


The Gingerbread Man, even more furious than before, had had enough.

 He shouted, "Sweet Satan, Lord of All Who Dwell in Darkness, please give me the power to destroy those who wish to do me harm!"

A black fog swirled around The Gingerbread Man.  Electricity filled the air around him.  The flames of hell began to engulf him.  When the flames disappeared, his form had changed.  The Gingerbread Man became possessed with the spirit of a demon.  And a single perfect cookie dropped from his crusty butthole.

For a moment, he felt sweet relief.

Then he became enraged because he remembered he was supposed to be furious.  In the days to come, the Gingerbread Man gathered up his fellow gingerbread brethren and created a mighty delicious army.

Furious, The Gingerbread Man commanded his army to fight the humans.  So powerful were the gingerbread army, in their quest, that they did, indeed, conquer all of humanity and laid waste to all of their creations.  Dogs were ridden, against their will, by the gingerbread men, as if they were horses.

True.

Those humans who were not slain, were forced into slavery, cock fighting and prostitution.  And when the humans were forced to copulate, the gingerbread men ate their children.

And thus began The Ten Thousand Year Reign of The Gingerbread Men.  All hail their might, wisdom and absolute power!

Pervert Santa

Get him while he's hot! And trapped! I thought this was humorous.

Adventures While Camping at The Gorge (Part Three)

For PART ONE and PART TWO of this series, click the links.

As I've mentioned before, there are some rough trails at Red River Gorge. No doubt about it. Take this photo, for instance. It shows a typical example of what a challenging trail would be like.

See the tree roots halfway embedded in the ground? Those are great fun to trip over when you're exhausted or half drunk or both.

We ate pretty good during our camping trip at The Gorge. Steve cooked most of the food while I watched him do it. He was my cook bitch. But don't tell him I said that. On this night we had grilled deer steak. And no, those aren't maggots on the meat in the picture below. They're some kind of spice/seeds that I can't think of the name of, at the moment. My friend wanted to use this on the meat to tame a little of the gamey flavor that deer tends to have.

It didn't matter to me. I can eat venison in any shape or form, with spices or without. I'm a true carnivore, damn it! If I'm hungry enough, I'll eat the balls off a bison as he's taking a leak. Wait! Not while he's pissing! I'll wait til he's fast asleep and then I'll chow down on his gamey jewels. He shouldn't wake up. Nah!

Speaking of balls, have you ever tried Rocky Mountain Oysters? Yum is the word.

We would take a breather, every so often along the trails and rest our poor saggy old asses on the natural rock formations, enjoying the inviting beauty and calm of Mother Nature. I really needed to go on this camping trip last September. I was going through some emotional calamity involving my father or wife during this time (I forget what it was, exactly) and this experience helped to bring peace and perspective to my life. It was terrific therapy for yours truly. Plus, it was crazy fun.

During the course of our adventures at The Gorge, we imbibed in adult beverages. Hard to believe, eh? In the following picture, you'll see that I am exploring my creative side by producing a talk show I put together with stuff I found on the forest ground. Enjoy, won't you?

Further exploring both our creative sides, we go to the amphitheater to put on short skits and musicals for one another while completely fucked up. I have videos of our creative masterpieces and I must say... they're really quite embarrassing- even by my standards. Luckily, no one was around and the amphitheater is pretty well hidden in the forest.

All in all, we had a fun, relaxing and invigorating time at The Gorge. If you really ever want to truly get away from the noise of the city or craziness in your life, I would suggest going here or a rustic and primitive locale similar to this. It's like a gift for your mind and spirit and it does wonders for your emotional well being. I know it does for me.

And now our journey ends. I hope you enjoyed the jaunty tour and I hope you're able to get away from it all, someday and experience the wonders of nature in all of it's uplifting glory.

Later, dudes and dudettes.

Adventures While Camping at The Gorge (Part Two)

To read the first part of this series click here.

After we helped each other set up our tents, we were finally able to relax. You've got to remember: We're a couple of middle-aged, overweight men who if either of us had to do a push-up, there's a ninety percent chance we would snap our arms in half and shit our pants, simultaneously.

I say that with pride as I scratch my man nuggets.

Of course, each of us had cushioned air mattresses with battery operated air pumps. Too old to sleep on a floor. Too old and out of shape to manually blow up an air mattress. Unlike the old days, when we were in our twenties, we wouldn't have been able to survive the night in the present, lying directly on the floor of a tent.

When we were in our twenties, we would hike up these insane mountains, carrying heavy backpacks and later sleep on the ground at night, on the edge of cliffs.

After the tiresome event of setting up camp, unloading our stuff from the truck and carrying this or that 3000 lb object here or there, we rewarded ourselves by sitting in fold up chairs, feeling as used up as a toothless crack ho named Lameeshqua.

I was so flippin' beat, I couldn't pour myself a drink. We did manage to build a fire, that first night, if I recall. We sat before that fire, staring into the flames, chatting about the The Firebucket Man. You'll have to read Part One of this story in order to know who I'm talking about.

We both turned in for the night, going into our tents. Then sometime in the middle of the night, I have a surreal experience in the dark of my tent. I feel like I'm going bat shit crazy. I feel like someone is attacking me inside my tent. I don't know if I'm dreaming this or half dreaming this or what. My sister suffers from night terrors but to my knowledge, I don't remember ever having an incident of that type.

My friend, Steve, said he awoke from this terrible guttural, growling noise emanating from my tent sometime that night. Now Steve is a very sound sleeper. He lives in an apartment near the railroad tracks in the busiest part of town and he can sleep through pretty much anything. Sirens going off. Fireworks. You name it. So when he says that I woke him up, that's significant news.

He thought maybe there was a bear and a dog fighting outside over food. My friend was desperately trying to remember if we had left any food outside, due to carelessness and utter exhaustion.

Every few seconds, I would let out a shriek in the previous calm of the night. He said he heard noises he couldn't describe coming from my tent and it was causing him major concern. At one point, he slowly unzipped his tent window and saw the bottom portion of my tent bucking around, like I was kicking it. I do remember kicking at my imagined attacker and punching at it's body.

Steve said he didn't know whether to go out of his tent and ask if I was alright or perform an exorcism.

Fearing that I would stab him in the chest, if he tried unzipping my tent door, with the Bowie knife I had brought with me, Steve stayed away. All of the commotion was apparently that bad.

The next morning, I was groggy and my throat was hoarse (I guess from all the noises I had made). My friend told me what happened throughout the night and I told him I thought maybe I was dreaming or that I had a panic attack of some kind. I offered to him the fact that I'm not a big fan of being in complete darkness. That may have instigated a chain of reactions in me that night but I'm not really sure what it was. Maybe it was Steve's infamous god-awful snoring that can be heard from two towns away that made me go mad. It's still a mystery.

The following nights, I doubled up on my prescription Valium to help me sleep and to help defeat the ear-bleeding decibels of snoring coming from Steve's tent. It worked. No more bear/dog/Satanic noises came from me, according to Steve. No more "dreams", either, other than a few boring ones involving a toothless crack ho and a Pee Wee Herman bobble-head. You know... the usual.

The following days we enjoyed moments of serenity as we walked on some trails and over and under a few natural sandstone bridges. There were spots along the trails where the views of Red River Gorge could truly invigorate your soul.

At one point, we saw this lizard with a chopped off tail, sitting on a trail sign, and we, in our drunken state, competed with each other in seeing how good of a close up shot we could take with our cameras. Each shot, we got increasingly closer and closer. The lizard thought we were probably nuts. Amazingly, he didn't move the whole time. After twenty minutes or so of this nonsense, we finally walked the trail to Gray's Arch. Likely, much to the lizard's relief.

Here are some pics of plants, mushrooms, trees and berries. None of which were ingested. Especially, the trees. They're kind of hard to swallow.

There were trails that had a shitload of steps to travel up and down. Though they provided a challenge, they were worth the scenic viewpoints we were lucky to be immersed in.

This year, there had been a number of incidents where bears had come into the campsites and were freaking people out, which is understandable. A few people have been attacked by bears, in the past, at The Gorge. The area is also famous for people falling off the cliffs along the trails. Here's one memorial, out of a dozen or so, dedicated to those who have died while hiking the high altitude trails. Ya gotta be careful, folks! Tee hee.

Every so often, you'll encounter signs like these at the beginning or along the trails.

Enlarge and read the cautionary print for a chuckle.

On the trail leading to Half Moon Arch, we met a guy with two dogs that had little red "saddles" on their backs. Each "doggie backpack" had two big pockets. My friend asked the pet owner what the dogs were carrying. The guy said, without missing a beat, "Bottled water and their poop."

This dude was so conscientious about his dogs leaving poop on these rough trails, hardly walked paths, that he had his dogs carry their own shit with them wherever they went. I thought that was particularly nice and thoughtful of him. Especially the part where he had his dogs packing and lugging his bottled water for him, as well.*

*snicker

And hey, at least they weren't carrying his shit.

We met a lot of interesting folks during our stay at The Gorge. Tomorrow, I will offer up the 3rd installment to this adventure. In this next episode, you will learn how to cook a deer over an open fire and you'll encounter other odd and wonderful sights along the way. See you there!

Adventures While Camping at The Gorge (Part One)

During the last week of September, I took off with my friend, Steve and went to Red River Gorge, which is located in east-central Kentucky in the Daniel Boone National Forest. We spent a week, there, thoroughly enjoying the quiet and serenity.

There are more than 100 natural sandstone arches and bridges in this canyon system full of waterfalls and rock cliffs. The beautiful wild flowers, mountains and valleys and unique plants only to this area can take your breath away and fill you with a force that is powerful and peaceful.

Many come to this place for the ultimate in relaxation therapy which entails nothing more than walking about the land, hiking the multitude of easy and challenging trails while taking in the inspiring sights of a full blue sky, a strong river and an endless sea of flora.

Our first day there wasn't awful. It was inconvenient. It rained before we got there and four more hours after we arrived.

Luckily, an insane man happened our way, at Koomer Ridge Campground, that sits inside The Gorge area. We were looking for a spot to pitch our tents. The dude had a scraggly beard on his narrow, well worn, leathery face and he more than slightly reminded me of Charles Manson.

The guy drove a small white truck that appeared as though somebody cruelly chopped it's ass off with a skyscraper-sized butcher knife. Hard thing to describe- this truck. A definite fail on the design. I took a picture of it at one point during the trip. Here ya go-

See that poor white thing in the middle of the picture with it's ass cut off? Yeah, that's it. It's not me I was talking about. Although some have said I am lacking in the ass department while there are others that just rave about my beautiful ass. Must be the curly auburn hair and two little dimples that are scattered about the landscape of my bottom. Oops. Just farted. Oh, and the delicate aromas wafting outwards, so I've heard, have been voted for the People's Choice Award.

No applause, please.

The guy pulled up alongside our brown pickup truck and made it look like we were riding in Mechagodzilla, our first day there.

Fortunately, their chaperon didn't interfere.

While the rain poured and "Charles Manson" spoke, we couldn't help but notice there were six tall white buckets, in the back of his "truck" that had flames rising up around 6 inches from the top of the buckets. On closer inspection, looking down and to the right, we saw that he was carrying burning wood in those buckets that were only inches away behind his seat.

We said to him, breaking into his rambling, almost in unison, "Did you know you're on fire?"

He nodded, casually and then said, "Oh yeahhhh, that's just the firewood I picked up and put in my arms in a bundle from a few camp sites down the road here. Then I put 'em into the buckets."

We were still looking at him in confusion for 3 reasons. One, it's pouring down rain like a mothertrucker and the wood is going to be thoroughly soaked, extinguishing the flames in a short period of time. Two, YOU PICKED UP FLAME-ENGULFED LOGS? And three, why would you put them in plastic buckets in the very near vicinity of the back of your small freakish truck? Ah, I can't forget the fourth one... Wouldn't it have been less difficult to completely put out the firewood before grabbing onto it?

As if in response to our confusion, he told us he was the campground host. I knew what that meant but it didn't really explain things. His job, as campground host, is to look after and clean up the campground facilities and answer questions people might have about the overlooks and scenic points at Red River Gorge and assist us in any directions and rules, pertaining to the Koomer Ridge campground.

We chuckled nervously and let the thing about the fire pass. It was his business whether he carried fire in plastic buckets in the back of his short shitty truck. I just wanted to move along, in case there was an explosion. We asked him where was the best double occupancy campsite that would enable both of us to put our tents on. The grizzled host told us what we wanted to know and we rushed away and not until we were far enough down the road, did we laugh at his expense. The guy actually seemed friendly enough and not once did he sneak into our camp site and cut off my head. So for that, I say he's A-Okay and a cracker jack of a gentleman.

Yes, indeed.

We went to the Hemlock Lodge, later, relaxing and drinking coffee, looking out the large glass windows as the rain continued pouring. We couldn't set up camp yet. It was both soothing and invigorating as we sat there at the lodge, hearing the drops hit the roof, crawl down the glass. We saw the lake below, the tall oaks and maples. Pure nirvana.

The pounding rain eventually dwindled into a drizzle and then a sprinkle. We headed off to our camp site and by the time we got there, the rain had stopped and we were able to set up camp. And we had a lot of stuff to unpack, too. Gas stove, utensils, flashlights, our meds, my insulin, backpacks, suitcases full of clothes, boxes of food, chairs, adult beverages (which aren't allowed) and who knows what.

Really. I can't tell you what else we had because I was inebriated or something about half the time we were down there. Nature, adult beverages, good talks and great walks throughout our time at The Gorge all swirled together like a fantastical realm of perfect balance and color-infused harmony.

Yeah, baby. Can ya dig it?

Here's our camp site, above and a few other charming pictures, below, taken during our adventures. Yes, that is me, pinching my frozen nips one morning. Oh, what a glorious time I had. :) I know you want to insert your own sick jokes here. And by sick jokes, I mean your dicks.

You sick freaks!

Just kidding, lady bloggers out there. I know you aren't hermaphrodites. Well, I guess not. Just going by the times I window-peeped on ya.

If you want to see more pics of my camping trip at Red River Gorge, I've got a photo album on Facebook that has 216 photos in it. If you have friended me, already, feel free to look at them. Quite a few are wallpaper worthy. If you haven't friended me, or don't do the Farcebook thing, well, what are you waiting for? I mean... Good Golly and Holy Buh-Jeezus! As long as I feel I can trust you somewhat to not rape, rob and sodomize me with a tractor mower, I will accept your friend invitation. I'm easy.

Stay tuned for Part Two of my Adventures While Camping at The Gorge, coming up tomorrow.