Peril in the Night

The sun glowed from behind the treetops a bright red-orange reminding us that it would soon be night. The disappointment of the Three Sister Springs had tired me immensely so we decided to visit “The Best Fudge Shop Ever” the following day.

We headed back to our tent sight to get ready for the night. After our dinner of turkey burgers and more Doritos Nacho Cheese Chips, we thought it would be great fun to start a fire (in the fire pit of course) and make s’mores. We put our pre-bought log in the pit with a heavy stack of kindling. Seeing as we are novices at camping, my dad thought it wise to equip us with a blow torch to start a fire.

Hmmmm good idea?

I think not.

Even though we had fun laughing maniacally while torching the giant log, it was rather in vain. Not only could we not start the fire with our flame thrower, uh I mean blow torch, we also used most of the propane … on our first night. Finally, we got a meager fire going. But in comparison to the surrounding campers, it was rather pathetic. I felt rather bad for us because making fires is sort of like comparing penis sizes, you want yours to be the biggest and the hottest. And as I had previously said, ours was really small. I felt like Bill Clinton. I needed reassurance in my camping prowess.

Utterly defeated, we climbed in our tent for the night. The rocks, holding our tent down, protruded into the tent making sleep uncomfortable to say the least. Finally sleep grabbed a hold of me and I was out like a light.

“drip,” “drip,” “pour” “CRASH!”

Oh goody, a hurricane, I thought. I felt the bottom of our tent. It was covered in water.

“CRASH”

Yay! More thunder and lightening. I suddenly remembered that I was deathly afraid of storms and there were no walls to protect me from this giant one. All the protection we had was a thin piece of leaky plastic. In fact, we were sitting in a puddle of water … which conducts electricity. And we were humans, which also conduct electricity --- we were practically goading the lightning to strike us. “Hey, you, lightening, over here! The big, pathetic, wet college students – you can’t get us! Na na na na na!”

“I think we should sleep in our car” I yelled to Ben over the loud rain.

“You think?” Ben asked sarcastically.

“Let me call my dad” I said

After a conversation of “it’s three in the morning you’d better be dead” from my dad, we decided to head for the car. And that is where we slept for the remainder of the night.

Even thought this was truly a night of peril, I learned something very valuable. I could totally live in my car. I always thought people who lived in their cars to be a little ‘unusual’ but seriously, it’s not that bad. You just recline your seat all the way back, put your feet on the dash and instant bed. Now that I think about it, it is a very cost efficient way to live – I think I might try that this summer, with the windows rolled down of course.

Three Sister Springs

Wow this is taking a lot longer than to write out than I thought.

Anyway, the Three Sister Springs is a magical place that cures every disease! Some examples of this mystic power are …




I was so excited to cure my 'mucus colitis' I could hardly wait to taste these cool refreshing springs.



Don’t they look inviting. “BUT WAIT!” what does that sign say in the left hand corner????



What a rip off. From this day forth, I shall never fall for some touristy crap again. So we ditched the Three Sister’s and traveled on to our next stop – the famous “Best Fudge Shop Ever” in the middle of down town Hot Springs. Boy, I can’t wait to taste the delicious fudge from the BEST FUDGE SHOP EVER!!!!!!!

Afternoon of Day One

Chuck stopped typing and looked us squarely in the eye “Well you are in sort of a bind eh?”

“You’re a smart Mr. Woodchuck” I thought to myself.

“I’m thinking that it was our error, so we will set you up with another tent site no extra charge” Chuck beamed at us benevolently.

“GREAT!” we both exclaimed.

So our trip came into full fruition when we were assigned tent-site T2.

We came upon our impressive site and surveyed the surrounding area. It was beautiful. We were right on the water and the pine trees sheltered us from most of the glaring sun and whipping wind. We set up our tent with little hassle.
You see, being the responsible people we are, we had been ‘practicing’ how to set up the tent before we even left Texas, so we were almost pros. I say almost because of one little problem. Our tent site was gravel and our tent pegs did not want to go into the hard and unforgiving ground. So we did the only thing our smart brains could think of. We weighed the tent down with large rocks. I rather liked the look. Our tent was the most unique on the strip. I felt just like a celebrity with people stopping by our tent to point and take pictures. I just waved sweetly and practiced my poses. My best: the pouty lip pose.
Once our tent was set up, Ben decided we were hungry. I, being the wonderful cook that I am, slaved away creating a masterpiece of sandwiches and Doritos nacho cheese chips. When we were finished, we went to do a little sight seeing. Right around the corner there was a tourist trap; I mean ‘attraction’ called “Three Sister Springs” a supposed cure-all for every ailment. Why a drink from these springs will cure my Mad Cow disease for sure! (Of course I don’t know for sure if I have Mad Cow disease seeing as it can live in your brain for 20 years before surfacing) All I can say is this attraction taught me what the word “charlatan” means. But that lesson is for the next addition of “Spring Break 2007”

Day One ... Triumph and defeat

Ben and I felt the exhilaration of hitting the glorious open road. It filled us with such joy that I could hardly control my foot from becoming entirely lead. You see, my family was getting farther and farther behind me. This, in itself, was a day of celebration! Ben and I were jamming to the tunes of Ralph Stanley, Jack Jonson and Michael Jackson (before he was creepy). What could be better. After several hours of driving, we arrived at beautiful Lake Ouachita State Park. The tall pine trees towered over us and the lake twinkled in merriment beckoning us to jump in. But first we had to check in at the visitor's center and get our tags for the campsite.

"Hi, we would like to check in, it's under Ben Warriner" Ben nodded towards the park ranger.

'Chuck' The ranger's name tag gleamed. I immediately thought of the Mr. Woodchuck ranger puppet from the TV show Full House and giggled a little.

"Ok, let me check our computers and see what we got for ya" The Chuck said politely.

"hmmmm" he scratched his chin in puzzlement "We don't have you in here" He looked up at us accusingly, "are you sure you made a reservation?"

"Yes," Ben exclaimed. "The lady I talked to said we were booked for this weekend."

"Well let me check again" The Chuck typed furiously at the keyboard while I tried to rhyme 'how many letters can a wood chuck type if a wood chuck could type letters...no it doesn't work. Ben then looked uneasily at me and I grabbed his hand in nervousness. It was like waiting for the announcement of the Grammy awards.

Oh and also, I had driven 5 hours to get here and there was NO way I was going to turn around.

"Ben Warriner, here you are" He said.

I smiled in relief. He called Ben's name. We had won!

"You are booked for June 15th. He raised his eyebrows towards us.

"WHAT" Ben and I both yelled in horror. It was not June 15th. It was not even May or April 15th. It was MARCH 15th - I started to hyperventilate.

What will become of us? Will we have to turn around and go back from whence we came? Or will we tell the park ranger that he better find us a place to stay or we will have to bunk with him tonight .... you'll find out in the next installment of "Spring break 07"

Ralph Stanley is like an orgasm for my ears …

Don’t ask me why I have gotten on a bluegrass music binge. Perhaps it is because we are traveling to Arkansas and bluegrass just gets me in the Arkansas mood. Mr. Stanley’s music can best described as the dueling banjos in the movie Deliverance ... plus singing. This music brings me back to the simple things of life, like nature, family, and overalls. I really, really REALLY want some overalls. Now I know what you are thinking … “fat people don’t wear overalls.” How wrong you are. Haven’t you ever seen these super fat guys that wear the white cut off Tee-shirts and the giant overalls – that could be me!

Arkansas or bust!

We are going to have a roarin good time!

Do you know how I know that? It's because even if we don't make it and break down on the side of the road with only a giant muddy ditch to comfort us, we are so over prepared that if we DO break down - we can just vacation on the side of that road. We have enough food for a month, clothes for about the same and even if there is no lake on or near the side of this road - we can blow up our inflatable floaty things and use then as beds, or use them to slide down the ditch or we could even create a make shift bounce house out of them if we get out the duct tape. Whatever happens - we will have fun. And I'm thinking we are going to do the make shift bounce house if we make it or not, that just sounds really fun.

I'm so excited and I just can't hide it

You know under normal circumstances one may wonder why anyone would willingly go to Arkansas. I happen to think however that it is a good thing!

Especially when you know no matter what you will enjoy yourself.

=B=

That butterfly feeling?

My boyfriend wears a funny hat...

My boyfriend wears a funny hat
it makes me kinda mad
ten feet high, up to the sky
I hope it's just a fad

My boyfriend wears a funny hat
it's white and sparkly green
stripes around, just like a clown
the worst I ever seen

My boyfriend wears a funny hat
it looks a little gay
he thinks he's cool to act a fool
Cuz it's saint Patricks day.

Chelsea, I love you!!

I just wanted you to know that I love you.

=B=

Ode of Love - by Ben

Your skin glows like the orange, blossoms furry as the lilac in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your saxophone voice and leaps like a goat at the whisper of your name, Chelsea.
The evening floats in on a great flamingo wing.
I am comforted by your shoes that I carry into the twilight of bus beams and hold next to my rib.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of blood.
As my testicle falls from my pants, it reminds me of your TV.
In the quiet, I listen for the last slam of the day.
My heated eye leaps to my bra. I wait in the moonlight for your secret piano so that we may ran as one, eye to eye, in search of the magnificent fuchsia and mystical hospital of love.

I can't even do one thing at once ...

Some people drive and talk on the phone, then crash and die. Some people watch a movie while doing homework and end up with 8 pages on how hot Jessica Biel is. And some people attempt to have sex with the TV on ... we all know how THAT one turns out. These futile attempts at multitasking almost inevitably fail. This is because two uncorrelated activities are being focused on which leads to being distracted in at least one.

I wish I had this problem.

Today, I realized that I do not even need a second activity to hinder my brain function. All I was doing was walking. Most people, by the age of 24, have gotten the hang of this motor skill but for some reason that unique part of my coordination is lacking.

"SPLAT"

Do you know what that sound is? It is the sound of me falling in the mud.

Thank you, that is all.

vacation is almost over ...

Real life is creeping up on me again as time for the new semester rolls around. I have had way too much fun this Christmas break. But, unfortunately, real life must commence.

I learned something new …

When you go to Wal-Mart, at four in the morning, there aren’t any Wal-Mart greeters. This so excited me because I happen to think the smelly old greeters are a little ‘too’ friendly.
Upon discovering this new revelation, I almost decided to make 4 o’clock Wal-Mart trips a regular. ALMOST. The reason I decided against such a decision is because of a Wal-Mart greeter impersonator! Yes, that’s right folks, as I walked into Wal-Mart some guy was standing by the door. He glanced at me and nodded and said “morning” I was confused because I very well new the stock line “welcome to Wal-Mart”. Of course As I was exiting Wal-Mart I saw the same ‘Wal-Mart greeter’ pushing a cart full of clothes and blankets away from the Wal-Mart parking lot. I HAD BEEN FOOLED! That greeter I had put my trust in, and smiled back at was no greeter, just a cold hobo. Now I know that I say that hobo’s rock, and most do, but NOT that one. CHARLATON!

It's funny how everything changes . . .

What do I want to be when I grow up? Did you ever ask yourself that question? What where your dreams and aspirations? How did you see your life. Is it what you expected? Is it better/worse? Did your dream change when you met that ‘special someone’ or when you got married. Or had a child?

I wanted to be an international jet setter. Stop laughing, I am not kidding. I wanted to be one of those people on TV who got to travel the world and tell people about their 4 star hotel rooms and gourmet food.

Then my dreams changed – I wanted to be a photographer who sleeps on the dirt floor of a hut while recording my adventures in the wilds of Africa.

My dreams changed once again to be a famous pianist that went from concert hall to concert hall performing and having people throw roses to me after my tear-jerking performance.

So what did all of these dreams have in common? I want to travel – to see everything, experience everything. I feel I am missing so much, every minute that passes by is one minute lost that I could be learning something new. So my dreams have been altered, just a bit. I now want to be a teacher – did I loose my once insatiable need to never become monotonous? Nope, because if anyone ever tells you that being a teacher is boring then they are just stupid.

Now being a teacher just might entail me to travel the world and teach in far off exotic places – you never know.

Even though the question of “what I want to be when I grow up” is changed and even if I become just a teacher in little old Texas I will still be growing – and that my friends is what I want, to never stop growing.

I think I've let myself go

Really, it's true. You see I have for some unknown reason decided to never dress up and hardly wear makeup. I think this is all my boyfriend's doing. He tells lies to me like "you are so beautiful" and "you don't need makeup" I know it's laughable at best. But I have come to subconsciously believe him. For right now, I am in my polo sweat shirt and baggy sweat pants and it is 7:30 on a Friday night ... What happened to getting all dressed up and going out ... hahahahaha. Well that ended some time ago seeing as we are both poor as sin. So now, there is absolutely no need to dress up at all. My boyfriend could care less what I look like, I have no where to go, AND it's a pain in the butt. The reason I am writing this entry is because it has come to my attentions that looks really do matter. You may be retorting my statement while wiping the stardust out of your eyes but seriously folks, it is true. I know because I have done an experiment on the subject. Every day I go to school pretty much in my sweats or scrubs. I might put a little makeup on but hardly any for down here in good 'ol Texas. But one day out of the week I don't have to go to work - so I try to dress up on that day to remember how decent I once looked. On these days I have random people talk to me, boys hold ALL doors for me, and everyone I pass smiles at me. I have decided this is an injustice to ugly people. So to help my fellow tired and worked to death friends who have no time for this silly business of dressing up I have decided to become as ugly as possible. I will wear no makeup. My baggy clothes will swallow me AND I will never, I repeat never touch a blowdryer again! We will see how long this little stance of mine lasts and if it will scare away my boyfriend and possibly my all of my friends. Who needs the shallow bastards anyway?

Candy Crowley <---- who says they only let "smart" people in the game?

“Do all political correspondents have to be hideously ugly?” I ask myself as I watch Candy Crowley discusses the latest CNN news break “And that’s why democrats are the best” she drowns on and on. Then it comes to me – it is not just political correspondents – but all people in politics in general. You see, these people crave the spotlight and are basically attention whores. Seeing as they are all dogfaced individuals, they can’t do something worthwhile like acting or modeling, so they go into politics and discuss pressing matters of the day like which child to leave behind and how many democrats it takes to screw in a light bulb. None by the way because they have raised the taxes so high that no one can afford electricity.
Also, folks, it goes the other way around. Actors and models … the “better” of our society cannot be in politics. If they try, one of two things happens: 1. their beauty mesmerizes us and so we elect them to office under some sort of lemming spell. Or 2. We ignore their pleas entirely and write them off as “liberal pot heads” and “aren’t they cute”
And to further my point I will say my last words on the subject. “Arnold Schwarzenegger” and “Bono.”

My birthday present is burning a hole in my boyfriends giant pocket

Well it has to be giant because it is such a big present. I know for one I certainty can't wait.

words, words, and more words.

It’s 9:30 in the morning and my math teacher is droning on about numbers or something - I don't know I wasn't really paying attention. She finally caught my attention by saying "you know, this formula is not correct because it is disproved by this 'pacific' example." Yes my dear friends, she said "pacific." Was she talking about the Pacific Ocean?

NO.

Was she making a reference to the Broadway show "South Pacific"

NO.

“So why would she say this?” You ask, scrunching your eyebrows together in deep thought.

Well … my teacher is a very southern lady and by ‘southern’ I mean annoying.

Why is it that people in the South, East Texas to be “specific” ( "I" say specific correctly cuz my momma woudda beat my ass) talk like jack asses?
Here are some of the words that my fellow neighbors say … that just might make me want to tape their mouth up with duct tape (and YES it is "duct" not "duck")

Ok, ok why am I so uptight? "Chill out" you say?

I might have let that little mistake slide … but about 10 min later she says "I don't know, 'supposably' that could work…"

At this point in time I am thinking to myself "YOU have a masters degree?"

Oh well, I must learn to live with the mispronunciation and just be content with sighing and muttering "dat foo don't know jack!"

Watch out Energizer bunny – you’ve met your match!

I know some of you are thinking to yourself “wow what an intriguing title, I must read more! This blog entry must be the best one yet!” and while this may be true, I must warn you that the following material may be offensive to some readers, and may contain material unsuitable for some of Chelsea’s “good” friends. See you were right! This IS going to be the best entry yet.

So the story goes like this . . . (dreamy flashback music plays)

Ben and I are walking down the romantic strip of concrete between the two ponds on the UTTyler campus. We stop at the deck area to do a little making out … I mean deep intellectual conversing, when all of a sudden we hear a “thump, thump, thump” in the distance. I push Ben quickly away and glance around nervously. I certainly did not want to be caught in deep conversation by the UTTyler rent a cops! Ben, more than slightly annoyed by our little interruption, looks around to see if he can spot the cause. We see, in the distance, a jogger. Ben and I breathe a sigh of relief, though we are a little flabbergasted by the fact that someone would willingly go jogging at 11:00 at night … or willingly go jogging at all. Relieved, we continue on with our conversation. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see the same jogger jump on top of a 10 ft brick wall. He took a running start and then shimmied himself right over that brick wall. I was amazed, shocked and slightly impressed. Ben scoffed at such an outrageous thing while I made jokes about how “he” should try that, and that would be “hott”.
We decided to dismiss the whole incident to the jogger not wanting to climb the stairs.

“If I could jump over that wall, I would SO not take the stairs” I told Ben seriously/

“HAHAHAHAHAH” Ben says, equally as serious.

Both of us glance up to the wall and there we see the jogger. He is looking ominously at us. Friend or foe – this is the question he seems to be silently signaling to us. I quickly look away not wanting to gawk at this unexplained jogger, who uses the stealth of night as cover. He walks to the stair case and climbs halfway up in a rapid dark streak. He jumps over the stair case again and again, practicing his maneuvers. The sight was magnificent. He was hopping over different things time and again. We stood amazed at the acrobatics of this creature. Man or bunny? We couldn’t tell. All we know about this jumping jogger is that he seemed to keep going, and going, and going….

“I think it’s Batman.” I whispered to Ben
“No, he’s like the energizer bunny” Ben states “on crack … yeah or PCP… yes the PCP bunny, that’s what we will call our stranger”

So if any of you know the whereabouts of the mysterious PCP bunny please call *** *** ****.

I want him for my birthday party.

Thank you for your time.