We decided to join a cookout the other weekend at the most beautiful park in the local area.
OK..So the park was beautiful, but where we had the cookout? Reminded me of camping. There was no grass on the ground and there was a hibachi standing close to a picnic table. Apparently, this is considered a "picnic grove". I considered it camping. Bugs were sucking my blood and dirt was gathering in my designer sandals. Not to mention the NUMEROUS times I tripped and just about killed myself on the exposed roots from the trees in the area. No sunlight filtered through the trees. It was like twilight all day because there were so many trees.
And everyone was sitting on those fold up camping chairs.
That sealed the deal for me.
I was camping.
And I LOATHE camping.
My idea of camping? Is sitting on my back porch with no blanket. Or staying at a local inn that hasn't been renovated. That, my friends, is camping.
I WILL NOT camp, nor will I ever consider the idea of camping.
Yes, my friends lure me with their stories and their fancy dancy campers. But I will tell you one thing: Every time that I go camping? It rains. No. It pours. No. The HEAVENS OPEN UP. And no matter what I am doing? I am wet, disgusting and feel dank. And the bathrooms? Don't even get me started. Let's just say that I have held myself from going for unholy amounts of time just to avoid crossing the camping bathroom barriers.
Kudos for all who embrace camping. I will never understand you, but I'll give you a fist bump..With some fireworks..You're crazy, but good for you.
Anyway. So I'm at this camping/cookout minding my own business after particiating in my share of picnic food when..
THUD.
INTENSE PAIN AND AGONY.
INVOLUNTARY TEARS AND QUIVERING LIPS.
What happened?
I was hit with a rock.
And it wasn't just any rock. And it wasn't a pebble. It was a ROCK people. Picture a rock the size of a small onion. THAT was the rock.
And it hit me in the back of my ribs. Do you know what is in the back of the ribs? RIBS. No fat, hardly any muscle..BONES.
After I recovered from the stars I saw from the agony of pain. I experienced what I would call white hot rage.
Who would do something like this?
I was sitting in a group of people! A circle of friends, mind you!
Who would haul a boulder in my direction and possibly break my bones?
A frickin' 10 year old. That's who.
What was he doing hauling rocks towards a group of people I will never know...
Later my mother tells me..."Well, Sarah..They say he might have autism."
So I say, "So that gives him the license to throw rocks at unsuspecting people? I have an anger problem. Does that give me license to kick holes in walls? Cause if it does I have some renovating to do."
And yes...I had a sleepless night filled with pain and muscle spasms.
I HATE CAMPING!
