Quick! Somebody kidnap me!

It's that time of year. Time when some of those people who I call family get together and go camping at the beach. I *hate* camping. It's hard (and not in the fun, spanky sort of way), it's stressful, and at the time I'm writing this, the hottest month of the year has turned on me and it's suddenly started to rain (flashflood warnings are in effect kind of rain, not that light drizzle kind).

Somebody kidnap me so that way I can't go. PLEASE!!!

I leave today and I'm not supposed to be back till Friday. That's too long to be stuck with the mentally sick people who keep planning this type of thing because they think it is "relaxing." If you never hear from me again you'll know I was either happily kidnapped like I wanted, or that I froze to death on the beach somewheres just north of those giant hooters some of you may remember from KT's website (may it rest in peace). If it's the latter, I hereby bequeath a frozen boob each to KT and CB and the rest of you may fight over anything else you find interesting. May I suggest the bunghole, it's relatively new.

Signed, Nervous

On Sun, 26 Aug 2007 08:45:11 -0700, [email] wrote:

Oh no, that's horrible! Take it from me, sharing a tent in the rain with a mental case totally sucks. And then of course there's the problem of getting groped by bears, don't even get me started on that. Here's a picture from the last time I went camping:

http://i10.tinypic.com/54ip1rs.jpg

One cool thing though... when you're camping your turds go "THUD!" instead of "PLOP!" It makes a nice change from the everyday routine.

Good luck, Whamee! I hope the rain stops soon. It might be fun after all! Tell us how it went.

On second thought... maybe I *will* stop by this afternoon and kidnap you.

CyberButt

And just think....the holidays will be coming soon, and most of us will have to put up with those whacked-out freaky, disgustingly obnoxious, chew with your mouth wide open, fart at the dinner table, obsessive compulsive, phychotic, mentally unstable, depressed and under-medicated, my shit don't stink, medicated but not enough, family members then, too...

Hell, even my cat runs and hides in sheer terror when they arrive and doesn't come out of hiding until they leave after the customary 3 hour visit.

Depressing thought, eh?

That's why I secretly drink vodka-in-the-kitchen-while-I-baste-the-turkey on those special occasions.

Well, my secret's now out, I guess.

(Heh...I said "member.)

On Mon, 27 Aug 2007 19:55:37 -0500, [email] (maiden of mayhem) wrote:

BUR-R-RP!!!

You rang?

Quit lurching around!

Do ya "baste the turkey" with "special sauce"?

On Sun, 26 Aug 2007 08:45:11 -0700, [email] wrote:

So... I wonder how Whamee's doing, roughing it out there in the wilderness? I keep thinking about the movie "Deliverance". Banjos. People with not many teeth. And of course BEARS. Not that I would want her to get tangled up with any bears. One of her deranged relatives maybe, but not her. Maybe she'll have some cool stories for us about bear attacks when she gets back. That would be cool.

CyberButt

wrote in message news:[email]...

I have dibs on the bunghole. And the left boob.