Nothing beats chips and dip and cold brews around the campfire.
When you're camping on vacation (only applies to real camping, not "motel-camping"), it seems Doooders and I have some rather lively, if not spirited campfire chats.
Something about the starry nights, the wind swept deserts and pine-studded forests just brings out the curious as you're stooped over the campfire, cold beer in-hand, staring primordially into the snapping and popping flames.
It's usually one really good stumper of a question, some years it's two questions, that neither of us can solve the entire week. They're not necessarily intellectual or spiritual as much as just puzzling.
2011's was: "If pine nuts don't grow on pine trees, why are they called pine nuts?" Good question. Did we ever find out? Nope. The odd part was just now, as I was re-reading that camp log, I noticed further down, I'd written "Do bears eat them?" Seriously, who the fuck cares IF bears eat them as much as ARE THERE BEARS IN OUR CAMPSITE? WTF was I thinking?
The question is usually scribbled down in an alcohol-fueled haze then later researched after the vacation. Naturally, even if Dooders and I were smart-phone-a-holics, they'd be rendered useless in the back country. We usually camp in areas with no signal for miles, where even cold beer and ice is hard to find. Last year, we were up in the Crazies, 40 miles from the nearest one-gas-station town, let alone cell phone tower.
Some years are, I'm afraid, too boozy, the remains of the scribbled question rather dubiously scratched down from the night before and hardly legible. "Why dooos the K*&dls at Christmas time for gibberish ass-sneeze insize a mothball-cake?" Later translated, WTF?
Other years are unmistakeably Cheech-n-Chong-like--such as the time when Doooders couldn't figure out if the strange soot stain on the rim of the campfire ring was a ghost-face, or simply an ad for Kriskuits--if you don't know what the hell I'm talking about then I've made my point.
This year's question was a two-parter. So we're particularly proud of ourselves.
Here goes--
1. How can the reality show, Full Throttle, (based on the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally) be so popular when its stars are so amazingly stupid? Go ahead and Google/Youtube it. You'll be astounded. A gal named "Angie" allegedly sits on men's heads and is photographed . . . for money.
2. Has there ever been an openly-Mormon rock-n-roll idol other than Donny and Marie Osmond?
Given we have had a Mormon running for the presidency, we found this question rather vexing. There almost SHOULD be a token Mormon rocker, shouldn't there? There was Creed, but who knows what brand of spirituality they claimed. There's just something about rock-n-roll mixing with Christianity that doesn't float. It's like combining gasoline and ice cream. Doesn't mix. But why?
Anyway, stoke up that fire and pass the Triscuits. I'm on a roll. More later.
1 comment:
LOL! Now I'm pondering these questions! The whole Mormon thing is probably the reason my short lived Donny Osmond phase never worked out! For a brief period in 6ththe or 7th grade, I was convinced I was going to grow up and be Mrs Donny Osmond! It was probably just as well that it didn't work out, because I wouldn't have been a good Mormon!
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