Wednesday, July 7, 2010

More Vacation Stories

It seems there's a certain commenter hereabouts who can't tell the difference between the kind of language that is acceptable to use in a Late-Nite Trannie Dance Club and the kind that is acceptable to use on a goddamn fucking family-friendly motherfucking blog like this fucking one FUCK. I'm not naming any names but since a picture is worth a thousand words, you can all just say "RBR" to yourselves now about a thousand times if you want because here:

"Don't judge me! It's not my fault! I don't know any better — I was raised by cross-dressing wolves."

Because in "her" comment "she"1 said (among other things):

"At least I did not vacation in a gorgeous wilderness resort and run on a treadmill like a total douche."

And yeah but, see, the joke's on her because that's not why I'm a total douche2.

Because the reason I ran on the treadmill is that I wanted to know how far I ran and I didn't have access to MapMyRun or any Intertube sites and I don't own a Garmin because, as I've written on many other occasions, Garmins are for total douches because whenever I read people blogging about their Garmins, it's almost invariably about how their Garmins FAILED them at some critical moment — like in the middle of a race — but THAT's not the part that makes them total douches ... what makes them total douches is they then go on to tell you how much they LOVE their Garmins it's not the GARMIN'S fault it sucks, it's actually somehow a moral failing of their own, AND DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE SAY SOMETHING BAD ABOUT MY GARMIN!1!1 which, let's face it, is pretty much the Definitive Battle Cry of Teh North American Running Douchenozzle3.

And that's why I ran on a treadmill. So I'd know how far I went, how long it took me, how many calories I burned (roughly), etc.
At Rocking Horse Ranch, you eat your meals "family style", which means you're assigned a table and you sit there with maybe two or three other families. This can be either fun and informative or, if you're, say, me, extremely uncomfortable and awkward. You're not always assigned the same table, so you might have to make small talk with like 7 or 8 different families over the course of a 4-day stay.

Ian is a very social kid, a trait he learned from my peoplely-personable wife, Teh 'Bride, who hates when I call her a people person because she sez "I hate people!" to which I always respond, "Thank you for proving my point because People-Personablity has zero to do with whether you like people and everything to do with how well you handle social situations, which you, 'Bride, handle well, because strangers don't make that Who farted? face after talking to you for a few minutes whereas they start to make that face about 10 seconds after talking to me and in nearly a third of those cases I haven't even farted!1!"

But anyroad, Ian got into a two- question routine on day one. When a family sat at our table, he would immediately ask the Dad (or, if there were no adult male present, the oldest male kid): "Do you like fishing?"

He usually got at least a "O, I like it okay" response to this one, but sometimes there were fishing enthusiasts with whom he could talk for awhile before moving on abruptly to his second question:

"What's your favorite baseball team?"

Now, you could see this made some of the Dads uncomfortable because RH Ranch is only like an hour-and-a-half from NYC and so everyone  was either a Mets fan or a Yankee fan and you could see, say, Yankee-fan Dad's eyes narrow, wondering if this were some Mets-fan kid trying to start a fight (or a Mets-fan Dad wondering if this kid were a Yankee fan spoiling for a fight).

This part of Ian's routine always kinda made me chuckle inwardly for two reasons: One being the reaction (just described) of the other Dads; and the second being Ian's disappointment when no one answered "The Phillies" — because as far as Ian was concerned, this wasn't a I'm-trying-to-get-to-know-you-type question; it was an actual Quiz Show-type question to which there was a right answer, viz., "The Phillies".

Ian had no idea where we were geographically ... or maybe I should say geopolitically?

And so he never got the answer he expected or wanted.

But then on our last day, we got assigned a breakfast table with this family the paterfamilias of which I kinda knew because he had played in the Beer Softball4 game the day before and, before that, the family softball game. And his kids were wearing Sixers jerseys and I knew he was from somewhere in South Joisey. But Ian didn't know this because, rather than join in the family softball game, Ian had opted to continue fishing, which is what he did roughly 23 hours out of each day.

And so he asks the guy the fishing question and I'm waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop because today, on our last day there, Ian was finally gonna get the "correct" answer to his baseball team question.

And, of course, Ian doesn't ask it.

1 Okay, I'm not a very good typist so to save me a few strokes (THAT'S WHAT "SHE" SAID!1!), from now on the scare quotes around words like "she" and "her" are to be understood.

2 There appears to be something not quite right about that sentence but I've read it over 6 or 7 times and can't figure out what it is. I just have this feeling that I'm not saying exactly what I mean but ... I guess it's okay as is, so I'll leave it.

3 Disclaimer: NOT a paid advertisement for Garmin, Garmin products or any products of Garmin's Parent Company, Douchenozzle Ripoffs, LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of BP.

Speaking of BP, 8.8 million people saw this before I did and I assume the 7 of you who read my blog already have but in case you haven't, or were off trying to figure out why your fucking useless Garmin wasn't working, here you go:

4 Which is really more "Beer" Softball because the "beer" is a keg of Coors Light, but they served it in these like ginormous like 40 oz. plastic cups so it made up for what it may've lacked in quality — i.e., any — with quantity. And the way the whole deal works is at like 1:30 they have the Family (i.e., "Beerless and kids can play") Softball for an hour; then, at like 2:30, we chase the kids off the field and the staff guy wheels out the keg, and this is when the real men play, by which I mean the ones who are so fat that, against all rules and regulations, they bring their kids into the game as their "pinch runners" because they want their chance to hit the ball, but they haven't personally run on their own personal legs since like 1987 and so they make their kids do their running for them because, to do them justice, first base is a long way away from the keg and 40 oz. of beer is only gonna last like, what, 10 minutes? Five maybe? And what if you're stuck on base when you run out? And so Beer Softball was supposed to last till like 4, at which point the keg gets wheeled over to the volleyball court where the fun is supposed to continue, only now as Beer Volleyball. Except the dads are lobbying hard to keep playing Beer Softball because they consider Volleyball to be Teh Gayest Sport Ever (and they're including in their estimation the sport of Same-Gender Sex, which they consider slightly less gay) and they think even adding Beer to Volleyball will not sufficiently de-Gay it. Plus, they aggressively point out to Dan The Staff Kid, (who kinda looked like this

You kinda took a long time wheeling that keg out here and it was really more like 2:45 when it finally got here and so we were kinda ripped off of some prime "Softball-Playing" time (where "Softball-Playing" = "Beer-Drinking"). It never really got too ugly, and I only threatened to punch the Staff Kid once, but luckily the crisis was averted when we stole the kid's underwear and ran it up the flagpole.

By which point, some of the dads were drunk enough that they ended up agreeing to play Beer Volleyball, which is TOTALLY gay, unless you're steady server, like I was, which is totally hetero and, let's face it ladies, hawt.

Am I turning you on?

And while I was working hard playing Soft- and Volleyball for my beers, Teh 'Bride stayed up by the pool drinking free daiquiris and eating free fried cheese because it was free daiquiris and fried cheese day, too.


  1. Late Night Trannie Night Club sounds like fun to me.

    Kidding - but seriously I'm so glad I found your blog. It's filling a void I've been missing. I laughed so hard I cried :) Good times@!

  2. Might I take credit for Beth meandering over to these unruly parts?

    I LOVE MY GARMIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My Garmin has fulfilled my running "career", & I'm going to strap it to my foot now because I KNOW it'll also heal my stress fracture.

  3. Love the BP video. I used to work for them. Used to. A long time ago. No Garmin. No time for further comments but I'll be back.

  4. Totally funny! I'm glad you had such a good time.

  5. Keith is right. No time for comments, and I "WON'T" be back. So i won't leave a comment today. No time.

  6. So, Glavina, how many calories did you burn? Or should I say how many Weight Watchers activity points did you earn, you big girl?!


    You're right that makes perfect sense and totally explains why a runner would travel to a remote and beautiful place to run on a glorified hamster wheel. I don't care how hot the chick's ass in front of you was (unless, of course, you have pictures.... Damn, testosterone is spiking again time for another shot)

    Oh, and Ooooooooohhhhhh! Now you have done it. You went and besmirched the Garmin.

    You will be officially exiled from the cool runners club. Even Mr. 'I refuse to run in a manner that will not be harmful to myself in some irreparable way' SQ has a Garmin.

  7. I have a Garmin, but I don't trust it - it likes to tell me that ravines are magically non-existent mileage. There are low-tech options, however; for me, 37 strides (74 steps) is 100 meters at training pace. You can count higher than you can run, can't you - and at that freakishly Sixer-pointguardish height of yours, it might be as little as 35 strides for you, though I'm guessing mincing little prissy steps is more your style.

  8. Never put the cash out for a Garmin, don't ever plan to either. I love my Iphone apps to keep track for me!
    Loved this post-got my day off to a great start!

  9. Free Daiquiris and fried cheese!?! Where is this magical place you speak of?

    Back in my grad school days, we played beer kickball. We made the keg be second base so you had to do your own running. Much more incentive to get on base too.