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Being Drug Along Isn’t So Bad, Right?

, , , , | Romantic | July 22, 2020

My boyfriend has led a much more exciting life than I have. He recently started talking about us going camping, which I’ve never done. We’re planning an upcoming camping trip with friends when I have a question.

Me: “So, what do you do when you camp?”

Boyfriend: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Like, you go and set up your tent and maybe go fishing or something, but how do you pass the rest of the day? What do you actually do?”

Boyfriend: “You can do whatever you want!”

Me: “Like what? What did you always do when you went camping?”

Boyfriend: *Pause* “I did drugs in the woods.”

Me: “Oh. That makes sense.”

Maybe I’ll bring a book.


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Not A Chicken About Being A Jerk

, , , | Friendly | July 16, 2020

We’re a group of friends on holiday camping near Venice. Unfortunately, the boyfriend of one of our group has decided to be a freeloader, the girlfriend has taken his side because love is blind, and several arguments have already broken out in the previous days.

Today’s dinner consists of two roasted chickens, bought at a rotisserie, and salad. The cost is split between the group but, due to the aforementioned arguments, the two freeloaders did not pay for any of it and are sulking in a corner.

I washed and chopped the vegetables for the salad and I’m handing out the plates as another friend carves the chickens. The first chicken has already been distributed.

Carver: “This is for [Friend #1] and [Friend #2]…” *Hands over both wings*

Me: “Whoa, easy, [Carver]. Make smaller pieces.”

Carver: “Give this to [Friend #3].” *Hands over half a breast*

Me: “Careful, [Carver], You’re running out.”

Carver: “No, I’ve got it. Give this to [Freeloader] and [Freeloader’s Girlfriend].” *Hands over both legs*

Me: “Excuse me, are we splitting half a chicken breast among you and me?”

Carver: “No, no, I’m getting the breast; it’s tough. You take this. There’s plenty of meat on it.” 

As if this is a grand gesture on his part, he gives me a plate with, literally, the carcass — what’s left of a rotisserie chicken after you pull out everything. There is some skin left along the spine and slivers of muscle between the ribs, and that’s it.

Me: *Exploding* “Are you pulling my leg? I paid good money to suck on salty bones while the deadbeat gets the thigh? What the f*** is wrong with you?”

Carver: “Okay, okay, if you’re hungry, just say so. Have this, too!”

He reached into the bag and added a mummified-looking chicken neck to my plate. I flipped him the bird and stormed out. I would have gone home on that very evening if a few people hadn’t followed and helped me calm down. The carver has still to reckon that he did anything wrong.

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Giving The Butterfly Expert A Case Of The Butterflies

, , , , , | Friendly | June 30, 2020

Camping in the summer is a tradition in my family, especially since my grandparents have a trailer. I’m a small, bookish elementary schooler and my grandfather is watching me play in front of the trailer.

An adult volunteer is going around the campground inviting children to a program about butterflies native to Michigan, including monarchs.

Volunteer: “Hello! Do you like butterflies?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Volunteer: “We’re going to have a program with them soon. You can find out where monarch butterflies live!”

Me: “Don’t they live here and then fly all the way to Mexico?”

Volunteer: “Um… yes! Do you know what they eat?”

Me: “Yeah! They eat milkweed as caterpillars because it makes them taste gross to predators, and when they’re grown up they drink nectar, but they still taste bad so birds don’t eat them.”

Volunteer: “That’s right!”

The volunteer gets increasingly flustered as I geek out over monarch butterflies, oblivious to her struggle. When the volunteer gives me the details of the program and scurries away, I turn around to see my grandfather quietly laughing.

Me: “What?”

Grandfather: “I don’t think she expected you to know so much about butterflies!”


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The OP Said It Best: Karma’s A B****

, , , , , | Learning | June 15, 2020

This happened during my uniform group camp when I was in my early teens. The uniform groups of about five schools were camping together in a school for four days and three days.

At the end of the first day, my groupmate’s shower cubicle couldn’t open, leaving him trapped inside. His response was to start pounding on the cubicle door and hollering, “I’m trapped in the toilet! I’m trapped in the toilet!” The boys all found the whole thing beyond hilarious and didn’t help the trapped boy, though he eventually got the lock open and escaped.

He was the butt of all the jokes that night. Thank goodness everyone was too busy laughing at him; I had accidentally packed my mother’s pyjamas and would not have lived it down if anyone noticed.

We expected the mockery to end by the next day, but there was this one schoolmate of mine that just insisted on rubbing it into my groupmate’s face. Every joke about being trapped in a toilet, he cracked, and he laughed non-stop. He was always a jerk, but this was on a whole new level.

And then, on the second night, guess who got trapped in that defective cubicle? My schoolmate, that same boy who kept mocking my groupmate, was now hopping behind the cubicle door, flapping his hands like a chicken and screaming, “Get me out of here! Get me out of here!”

I really couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing until I started to cry before I ran off to get the teachers. I found them having a coffee break in the canteen, right as one of them said, “Ah, peace and quiet at last.”

I gleefully ruined their peace and quiet by telling them how [Schoolmate] got himself trapped in the toilet. The look on their faces was priceless. One of them actually said, “You just had to jinx us!” to Mr. Peace And Quiet.

The four of them followed me into the washroom, where all the boys were now out of their cubicles in varying states of nudity, laughing at [Schoolmate]’s chicken flapping and jumping. Seeing that nobody was showering, I snuck into one of the opened cubicles and began showering right as the teachers made themselves known.

There was a shriek of “Why are there girls here?” — one of the teachers was female — and then sudden pounding on the shower door as the guy I stole the place from tried to get in and get clothes on.

I ignored him, and he started angrily shouting that he’d kill me. It was about this point that the teachers realised that they couldn’t open the cubicle door no matter how they tried, so one of the teachers returned with an actual crowbar, which the four of them used to force [Schoolmate]’s cubicle open. While everyone was distracted by the crowbar, I snuck out before the guy I stole the shower from could notice.

The very first thing I proceeded to do was to find [Groupmate]. When [Schoolmate] finally stumbled out of the showers, the two of us stood there and threw every single toilet joke he made back in his face. [Schoolmate] then snarled at me, “I mocked [Groupmate] and then I was trapped. Tomorrow will be your turn.”

On day three, I didn’t get trapped. I wasn’t an idiot, and the teachers had declared that one cubicle off-limits anyway.

And to add insult to injury, someone made a play about the whole situation and had it performed in front of the entire uniform group the next year, forever preventing [Schoolmate] from living it down.

Moral of the story: karma is one h*** of a b****.

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Incorrect Dialect

, , , | Right | June 7, 2020

Our camp employs a handful of international staff. I am not international at all and have never even travelled outside of the USA.

Parent: “Is everyone here from Australia?”

English Staff: “Um, no, all the international staff are actually English.”

Parent: “Oh!” *Turns to me* “And where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

Me: *Pause* “I live twenty minutes from here.”

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