When I was 10 years old, my family decided to become a traveling sideshow of assholes. We loaded up our RV with scuba gear and a baffling amount of Fritos and drove all the way to South Dakota.

South Dakota is the worst place on Earth, second only to fucking New Mexico. People on the Oregon Trail looked at South Dakota and went, “Fuck this place. We can certainly do better than this.” Birds, when migrating South, go around South Dakota. Even dinosaurs didn’t want to die there for fear of being unearthed in South Dakota and made fun of eternally.

My stepdad decided to park The Widowmaker near a lake once we got there, deciding it would be the perfect place to go scuba diving. Let me repeat: scuba dive, in a dirty-ass lake, in South Dakota. My enchantment was palpable.

Grace and I were about to gruesomely murder each other out of boredom, so we figured, “hey, what the hell. Worst case scenario, we catch dysentery and then don’t have to be in the RV anymore.” My Stepdad insisted we get dressed at camp and then walk to the lake to use our time most efficiently. This meant, on the hike down, we would be wearing:

  • Full-body wetsuits
  • masks & snorkels
  • vests
  • gloves
  • oxygen tanks
  • of course, flippers

The lake is a good mile away from us at this point, and we must wear our flippers and masks now. In case of sudden ocean, I suppose. My stepdad decided that we didn’t have any need to take the road down, because he could get us a shortcut through the forest nearby, and seeing as how I didn’t weigh as much as my oxygen tank, I was fucking thrilled.

The three of us (my stepdad, Grace, and me), dressed in all our douche-tastic finery, set out into the forest.

Thus began the most hilarious hike of my life.

Hindered by our fins, which made us look like what I imagine a fish would look like if he suddenly decided to run up onto land on his back fin, we began to hack our way into what we quickly discovered was a very very thick forest made up entirely of thorny-ass brambles. We were suddenly grateful for the masks and wetsuits, because what we didn’t get caught in naturally, we got our fucking fins caught in. It was a constant wrestling match with nature. My stepdad became more and more agitated, having lost sight of the lake in the brambles, and Grace and I were pretty much done ever since we put our fins on, way back in The Widowmaker.

And then I came face to face with my nemesis.

While untangling my tank from yet another hate-bush, I realized I was staring into a frightening pair of black eyes. I had expected them to turn away and run, but they moved closer. And closer. And closer still.

That’s when Grace turned around and saw it.

The band of rogue deer.

There were only 4 of them, but all that bullshit I’d heard about deer being more afraid of you than you are of them was not helping at this moment. The Forest of Hatefulness had turned them into loose cannons, charging anyone who dare enter their domain.

Fortunately for them, their latest prey were three fucktards with a fin-shoed death wish.

As shitty as we were at walking in flippers, we were pretty goddamn amazing at hurdling in flippers. Suddenly, we forgot how heavy everything was as we tried to outrun these villain deer through all the thorns. At three points, we had to hide from them, hoping their sense of smell had been taken in exchange for the hatred they apparently felt deep in their souls.

About 3 hours into this one-mile hike to the lake, the three of us finally stumbled back onto the paved road, covered in scratches, thorns, sweating so badly in our neoprene we squeaked when we walked. The deer were apparently cursed to only live in the woods, and blessedly gave no chase. We hobbled our sad asses back to the camp, took off our gear, and never said a word of what we had been through.

We never found the lake. We never scuba-dived in South Dakota. We were suspicious of deer from there on. They will fucking waste you.

Did you ever go on a ridiculous trip or outing as a child, or ever take your kids on a weird trip/outing? What happened? 
The Podcast with Reasoning With Vampires is up! You can listen or download it for later listening (recommended if you’re at work. We use the phrase, “rum and cum,” at one point. 
Favorite Comment From The Last Post:
From Jillian @ Brilliant Title: “This is like a glass of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate with vodka and a non-suspicious white powder which causes semi-lucid hallucinations. In other words, good shit.” 
Front Desk Ninja March 26, 2012 at 3:46 am

Best motherfucking story ever.
Nothing I have could ever top that.
I love you, Noa.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:35 pm

I love YOU, FDN.

Lianne Marie Binks March 26, 2012 at 5:51 am

I don’t think it’s possible to top that story!!!
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:36 pm

I forgot all about this story until about a week ago, and Alicia harangued me into writing it down. I’m glad it was so entertaining!

Meg March 26, 2012 at 6:28 am

That totally makes stepping on a bee in the Smokey Mountains seem really lame. I wish I could say that I had to wrestle a bear or something, but no, no I can’t. The mental image I have of you right now, running through the woods in swim flippers…priceless.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:37 pm

It was even more fun to run in flippers in real life.

Mayor Gia March 26, 2012 at 6:34 am

HAHAHAHHA. Deer can be SCARY. Where I live, you don’t hit deer with car. Deer hit you. (Seriously a deer ran into my mom’s car while she was at a stop sign and broke her side view mirror.)
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:38 pm

I had the same thing happen, but with a baby deer. It was awful, but I assume it was attempted vengeance.

Hoody Hoo March 26, 2012 at 7:10 am

That “more afraid of you” bullshit is deer propaganda to make us easier to kill. Deer will fucking END you.
And one of the many reasons I’m glad to be an adult is that I can now opt out when Dear Sweet Mama and the Concubine decide to go “birdwatching,” which translates as “tromping through a swamp at the ass crack of dawn, being eaten alive by mosquitoes while imagining every stick is the snake that will take my life.”
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:39 pm

Please tell me birdwatching is as awful as it sounds.

tova March 26, 2012 at 9:38 am

I used to have a deer that was stalking me. True story, it was friends with my cat (who obviously wants me dead) and it would come and stare in my windows. Also it ate cheetos out of my neighbors garbage. I had to move to Canada to get away from it.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:41 pm

That sounds truly terrifying. That’s why I don’t live on the first floor of any apartment complex anymore. Deer have a rough go of stairs, you know.

Jillian @ Brilliant Title March 26, 2012 at 9:52 am

When I was a kid, we once vacationed in Florida. After Noah’s own rainstorm, we found we had a visitor on the screened in porch– a motherfucking snake. Here in the PNW, we have proper predators, like bears. We had no way to know if the motherfucking snake was poisonous or not, and who the hell do you call to get a motherfucking snake out of the screened in porch? So my dad goes into the condo, grabs a broom, and then stands on the threshold to the porch with his hands on his hips like Peter Pan.

“Don’t worry! I watch Crocodile Hunter!”

That’s when we all burst out laughing, and the motherfucking snake slithered away in intense fear.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:43 pm

Snakes will fucking snap a bitch, yo. They can choke your shit and then swallow you whole. Broomhandles are a solid defense.

L-Kat March 26, 2012 at 10:46 am

You’re lucky you didn’t die. And not from dysentery or snakebite, but from walking in your scuba gear. I just watched an episode of 1,000 Ways to Die (because I’m cheery like that), and some guy died from heat exhaustion while walking to the lake in his scuba gear.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:48 pm

That shit is HOT, y’all. Thankfully it was Fall in South Dakota, so it was also cold as a motherfucker!

CrazyTragicAlmostMagic March 26, 2012 at 11:01 am

This is hysterical. Deer are unpredictable. Sometimes they run and sometimes they stand there and then headbutt your door.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:49 pm

Deer are total fucking bastards.

Margaret March 26, 2012 at 11:28 am

That certainly tops our favorite family outing/near tragedy. We went tubing on the Hiwassee river. We should have noticed the Deliverance-type gleam in the eyes of the man who drove us up the dirt road with our inner-tubes to the place to “put in.” It was clearly too early in the season for tubing that particular river. We were so cold our lips (I.shit.you.not) turned blue. I will never erase the image of my brother perched like some crazy fucking praying mantis atop his tube so that not a centimeter of his skin touched the water. I can still give every family member visible goose-bumps with a quiet whisper …..Hiwassee. It is our personal family word for doom.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:52 pm

Scuba diving still brings up memories of hate and fear for me. A few friends of mine were recently certified, and it was the first time they realized I have been for many years, but could never bring myself to ever do it again.

Mandi E. March 26, 2012 at 11:55 am

You know, the furry woodland beasties seem to be at peace with me so the worst stories I have about wildlife are the ongoing feud with the local squirrels. My cousin, on the other hand, used to live in a place where the deer would come up to you and eat from your hand. There was one that seemed to hang out in their back yard and she’d feed it a slice of apple every day, pet it on the head, and walk to the bus stop. Then, one day, someone forgot to go grocery shopping and there was no apple and I had the happy fortune to watch her be chased by an antlered buck down the street. It was the last time after I was potty trained that I peed my pants, but I was laughing, so it doesn’t count.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:56 pm

That’s what you get for trying to befriend a deer: they fucking turn on you. Dirty forest bastards.

pippi (formerly known as Mamy) March 26, 2012 at 11:56 am

Midnight potty run while camping in the great outdoors.
Skunk patrolling the perimeter of the bathroom.
No more camping trips for the Martins!
It’s kind of like breaking dishes so you don’t have to wash them again…with help from the skunk of course.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 7:59 pm

Fucking bastard skunks. They’re in league with the deer.

Carrie - Cannibalistic Nerd March 26, 2012 at 12:09 pm

Aren’t there a bunch of riddles an mysteries about people who are found dead in the woods/trees in scuba gear? I now know the answer is that the deer got them.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:02 pm

The more you know.

AshleySmashes March 26, 2012 at 12:11 pm

Dude. Deer are mean as hell. I had a friend who had the brilliant idea to trap one once via some sort of lasso (?). I don’t know why he wanted to do that, but he ended up with a broken jaw. They are not fucking around. Bambi, my ass.

I was once attacked by a cow on a leisurely walk through the country. I don’t know what she was so pissed about, but I was in that tree for several hours before my terrible parents decided maybe they should be concerned for their child and came looking for me.

In unrelated news, beef is delicious.

Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:04 pm

I love the idea of you treed by a cow. Love.

Jaime March 26, 2012 at 12:14 pm

that’s hilarious… my dad and I drove from to Alaska from Vancouver when I was a kid… highlights from the trip include: construction we were stuck in for 4 hours, seeing the same road for hours on end, getting stuck behind a bison for 3 hours, towns that consisted of a gas station and a swing set, and bugs the size of small mammals.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:14 pm

Do you need more than a gas station and a swing set?

Misty March 26, 2012 at 12:23 pm

No crazy animal stories . . . but one time when I was young, (maybe 12?) I went on a camping trip with my school class and the tent we were sleeping in leaked when it rained one night, so I ended up sleeping in a pond all night. Well, not sleeping . . . shivering and catching damned pneumonia. That was also the trip where my feet kept getting wet in different puddles and steams and I didn’t bring enough extra socks, so I had dripping wet socked feet for 3 days. Oh and also we had to do this wilderness training/obstacle course shit in the woods and I got frozen on one of those rope wall things and couldn’t climb down. I was stuck. There was much freaking out and screaming and an eventual rescue attempt.

Yeah, camping is awesome. Can’t wait until my next trip. :-/
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Mandi E. March 26, 2012 at 12:36 pm

Your comment on my recent post about camping not involving a television and ambient lighting suddenly make WORLDS of sense.
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Misty March 26, 2012 at 12:45 pm

Purely based on experience, yo. Lots and lots and lots of ((shudder)) experience in the great wilderness.

I was a girl scout, too. There were forced camping expeditions galore.

Hold me.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:17 pm

@Misty: How is that not considered torture? Mother of God, Misty.

Dana the Biped March 26, 2012 at 12:45 pm

When I was about nine, we went on vacation to Columbus freaking Ohio. There is nothing interesting in that city for nine-year-olds, but then there isn’t anything interesting for adults. Or geriatrics. Or dead people. We were there for a national rabbit show, because nothing says family bonding like spending ten hours in the minivan with your parents, sister, and thirty rabbits that are shedding and shitting everywhere. One rabbit out of the thirty scored well. The others? Well…

We ate really well after that vacation.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:19 pm

A minivan and 30 rabbits?

Holy shit, you win.

Jackie G March 26, 2012 at 1:24 pm

As someone who currently resides in South Dakota (known by those stuck here as America’s Asshole) due to some cruel joke on both God & the Air Force’s part, I can wholly and fully attest to the truthfulness in depicting South Dakota. It is a festering anus of a state. The local attraction here is standing in a cave where people hung shit upside down and then say it has ‘zero gravity’.

I can’t make this shit up.

Alcohol is the only reason I am alive. You can buy it EVERYWHERE here.
God Bless America.

Jen March 26, 2012 at 2:32 pm

I too am one of the unfortunate people that the Air Force placed in South DaFuckinkota. We asked for anything on the east coast(even Jersey) and we got here. The locals(who I am certain are totally insane for choosing to live here) call it “God’s country”. I hate to tell them, but God HATES this state. I doubt that a state with sub-zero winters, scorched earth summers and constant tropical storm force winds would be a deitys favorite. What kind of shithole lives did the settlers have before to think this place was an upgrade?!

Don’t forget the “casinos” on every corner, the fantastic hair and clothing styles, and all the restaurants that take checks(but only local checks you damn dirty outsiders!)

My favorite is home daycare that has a gun/pawn store in front of it and liquor store and strip club across the street.

Jackie G March 26, 2012 at 6:44 pm

Oh, the Belle Star Gentleman’s Club. Be still, my beating heart.

Jen March 27, 2012 at 10:05 am

You can tell it’s a classy joint because it’s a “Gentleman’s Club” and they have their own limo.

Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:35 pm

@Jackie: Don’t worry, they’ll take the booze from you soon.

@Jen: Denton, TX might be in South Dakota. There is a store called “Mary’s hair salon, tire store, chainsaw repair, and nightclub.”

Jen March 29, 2012 at 4:16 pm

That sounds like a magical land of shitacular shenanigans! I want to meet the person who has made a day of that store. I have totally added it to my list of places I must go. It joins the hair salon, beauty supply and bait and tackle shop I drove past at the beach in my home state.

Bill G. April 1, 2012 at 12:17 am

Whynot Minot? Freezin’s the reason.

Minot = mind-rot. I’d rather get stuck at Seymour Johnson (Suck more Johnson) or Shaw AFB, Sumter, SC (Shawshank in Dumpster, SC).

Kelly March 26, 2012 at 1:38 pm

You will forever be in my heart as “Scuba Steve” now. Not SS for short, because that’s just weird, and kind of awkward (and then I’d probably have to text Hitler again and explain, while taunting him a second time!), but Scuba. Imagining y’all trying to hurdle shit with fins on just made my heart grow a size or two.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:37 pm

You know HItler?!?!

Andi Davies March 26, 2012 at 1:40 pm

That story is EPIC. Just enough awful to be hilarious, all those years later.

Throughout a childhood of bad trips, the ones that that stuck with me were:
1) the one where our tent was pitched on a hill so we all rolled downhill into the corner
2) the one where I was sitting on the dock and my friend accidentally pushed me in the lake (not a total loss, since that was the same trip we discovered her dad’s Playboys in the cabin)
3) the one where the adults took us on a fishing trip with the promise that we could go swimming in the lake, but when we got there all the fish were dead and floating on the water. There was a completely weird argument about whether or not the lake was safe for swimming in, with all of us kids on the “What’s the problem? We can swim around the fish,” side and all of the adults on the, “EWWW, WTF is wrong with you,” side. I can’t remember if we did go fishing or not. What I do remember is that we ran off into the forest to play and discovered this magical spot in the quarry that was full of soft, white sand. So we played in that instead. It was probably pulverized bones or something.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:45 pm

I see absolutely no problem with just swimming around the fish.

L.A. March 26, 2012 at 1:43 pm

We didn’t do camping, so much as bike trips. My dad loves his bike trips. One particularly crazy trip, we were biking home to Michigan from Toronto. One day, we woke up, packed up and headed on our way. It was a ridiculously hot day, and about halfway through the day, when we stopped to rest, we realized that we only had one water bottle. Four people, one water bottle. We figured we’d make it to a town sooner rather than later, and we’d be fine. We still had food, after all. Food, you say? Nay. All we had was salt and vinegar peanuts. Plus that one water bottle. In the middle of Canada.

Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:46 pm

I can’t imagine anything more disguising than salt and vinegar peanuts…

Curmudgeon-at-Large March 26, 2012 at 3:16 pm

Oh, Noa:
You suckered me in with “traveling sideshow of assholes.” A friend, at a local happy hour, took one look at a group of us and said “Here’s a whole bouquet of assholes.”
I am fonder of South Dakota than you because of Mount Rushmore and The Badlands. Otherwise, it joins the list of “fly over” states.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:47 pm

I hated both Rushmore and The Badlands. HATED.

Granted, we didn’t exactly kick that trip off well.

Jake March 26, 2012 at 4:52 pm

My cousin was stationed in South Dakota. He always said if he only had 6 months to live, he’d move back; because 6 months in South Dakota feels like a lifetime.

Noa March 28, 2012 at 8:50 pm

I sympathize with them.

Johi March 26, 2012 at 5:43 pm

I’m so sorry… that I laughed so hard at the image of 4 deer chasing three people in scuba gear through the woods.
I have a shit ton of camping gone wrong stories. I could probably so an entire series of blog posts on them. And then I go and birth two boys who are going to want to camp. You know they will. I’m thinking we’ll label that “Boys Only Time” and send them with good old Daddy while Mommy stays home with her beloved modern conveniences, like sleeping on a level plane, hot showers and boxed wine that I drink out of designer stemware from Target.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:07 pm

My husband keeps trying to get me to go camping, and I keep reminding him what a nightmare I am indoors.

He doesn’t bring it up much anymore.

Bill G. April 1, 2012 at 12:31 am

Going camping as a kid cured me of ever doing it as an adult. My idea of camping is staying at the Comfort Inn instead of the Marriott. I’m all good with hiking and fishing–for a few hours in a stretch, I ain’t fucking sleeping there.

My other trick with hiking is that I always hike UP to somewhere because I want the return to the car to be easier and faster than the trip out. There’s nothing worse than getting somewhere, feeling damn tired, then realizing that the return is all uphill.

Beanster March 26, 2012 at 6:47 pm

This is my first time commenting after much lurking. Holy shitballs did I laugh out loud and then realized I should do more kegels. Thanks for the much needed entertainment.

Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:08 pm

The first part of your comment was a wonderful compliment, and then it made me laugh my ass off. Well done.

Chiconky March 26, 2012 at 10:10 pm

My dad almost shot my mom while she was holding a life-size stuffed panther and my brothers set a stranger’s kid on fire during one of our epic road trips, but I must say that any story that starts with scuba diving in South Dakota is already a clear frontrunner.

Awesome post.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:10 pm

This comment requires much more backstory than you’re offering.

Laura March 27, 2012 at 4:28 am

That was hilarious. I’d add a story of my own, but I have, thankfully, blocked out all memories of my childhood family vacations.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:11 pm

Lucky bastard.

Harry March 27, 2012 at 4:40 am

That was a cool story, no one can top that I think.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:13 pm

I…I think you’re a spammer.

Red March 27, 2012 at 9:24 am

Now that’s a hilarious story!

Actually, I quite like the Dakotas…I think because nobody else does and I always root for the underdog. But scuba diving? I knew the story would be a riot when you said *that* was where this dive was taking place. Who chooses South Dakota for scuba diving? It makes me laugh just to think of it!

…and the visual of a bunch of scuba-geared people wandering the woods…like as if you accidentally missed the turn to get to the ocean. Hilarious.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:15 pm

South Dakota is fucking dirty, and we were gonna go deep into its chest cavity in search of…mud…I suppose. Fucking terrible.

Monica March 27, 2012 at 10:35 am

HAHAHAHA! Oh my God, that way funny. For me, I mean. That sucked dick for you. Sorry.

I remember when my ex-husband and I took a canoe out on a lake. We were vacationing with my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law and their son.

We relaxed for a while, letting the wind take us where it wanted. The wind took us to the very end of the lake, trapped us in what looked like seaweed but wasn’t seaweed. It was more like sea snot. We couldn’t get out no matter how hard we rowed, so we had to take the canoe out of the water and walk it a mile back up the road.

It was a heavy canoe. We stopped a lot. My brother drove by in his van, saw us, laughed and kept driving. My brother is an asshole.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:17 pm

I’m honestly surprised that your brother retained his life.

Bill G. March 31, 2012 at 11:59 pm

And if anybody to this day asks what happened to your brother, you tell them he ran off to join the circus, right?

Nicole March 27, 2012 at 11:53 am

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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:18 pm


Eleanor March 27, 2012 at 1:38 pm

LOL! That sounds a lot like my vacations growing up. My mom was raising 4 kids by herself, which I am sure made her more than slightly crazy. And probably didn’t give her any time to think things through completely.

The best one, though, is the time we were driving to California and our VW van broke down in Umatila, OR. Back then (I have no idea how it is now) it was literally a one street town. There was one motel in town, which was seedy at best. it smelled of stale cigars and mold. As it was Saturday, the garage could not get the part we needed until Monday at the earliest, as they had to go to the nearest city to get it. While sitting there we learned that just the night before people were murdered in the alley behind our motel room. This ended up with us locked in a motel room for 3 days with the curtains drawn. Mom, who was generally against any kind of gambling, bought us decks of cards and about 10 pounds of M&M’s and taught us how to play poker. We ate nothing but cold cereal and M&M’s for those 3 days. Back then there was no free cable in motel rooms, so there wasn’t anything to watch. Finally my grandparents came and rescued us. To this day I hate poker, plain M&M’s and shudder at the mention of Umatilla. Haven’t been back there since. And the garage guy….we found out when my grandfather went to have a talk with him that he actually had the part all along, he was trying to get more money out of my mom, who he thought (rightly) didn’t know anything about cars and would fork out. What kind of asshole does that to a single woman with 4 kids in tow?
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:21 pm

A man who killed a couple of people behind your motel, that’s who.

Good Lord, woman.

Valerie March 27, 2012 at 9:14 pm

I bet behind every Bear Attack Story, there is an angry fucking deer wrapped in bear pelt… Mind = Blown.
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Noa March 28, 2012 at 10:21 pm

They’re some sneaky dirty bastards.

AizaMay March 29, 2012 at 5:22 am

I haven’t tried a weird outing with my kids but I have tried it when I was a kid…It’s just funny when I remember it now…
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Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:28 pm

You sassy ass spammer.

CoreyFerns March 29, 2012 at 7:44 am

…There is hot chocolate all over my screen..why hot chocolate, cause the coffee at work is shit.

I was some how hoping for a moment in that story where Grace would trip and fall and magically go “Oh no I’ve been roped!”

Still, there is nothing that beats that story. Any animals that have been portraited as sweet is an absolute lie. I got chased by geese once..Fucking geese..We were on a farm and my dog decides to run off and engage in general fuckery leaving me alone walking behind this flock of fucking geese…

Suddenly..They all turn around and I’m thinking..Why does this suddenly feel like a mexican stand off, so I turn around and start walking back..They follow..I walk a little faster..They start to waddle like they’re on crack..I break into a run and they decide to re-inact WWII and take off, gliding low like they’re on a mother fucking firing run.

I burnt my Mother Goose stories after that incident..I was 9.

I’m going to let my kids know that all those stories portraying forest animals as sweet are lies..Three little bears and goldilocks? They ate the bitch..Bambi? His mom got what she deserved, the bitch..
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Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:36 pm

Grace did fall–and she did think she had been roped I left that part out!

Geese are assholes, yo. They are not tame at all. Those motherfuckers will tear you limb from limb without a second thought.


darcie March 29, 2012 at 5:52 pm

omg. I laughed so hard/quietly in my crappy cube that I think my work neighbors think I’m having a seizure. No great stories, just car trip after car trip with my older sister throwing up in the car. Christ, didn’t they realize she had motion sickness and drug her the hell up. Gotta love the 70’s… I still ride with her, but she always drives.

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:38 pm

I’m sorry I made your coworkers doubt your ability to function.

My mom once spewed coke all over the dashboard after mishearing the lyrics to a Garth Brooks song she’s hear 100 times. LOVE those family members.

Satan March 31, 2012 at 12:58 am

your parents must have been HIGH, high, high on SOMETHING (cough syrup?) when they decided ANY hike was a good idea in scuba gear…

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:39 pm

Sadly, no. My stepdad was just a fucking idiot.

Bill G. March 31, 2012 at 11:56 pm

Wow, that is some outrageous shit.

This reminds me of my dad’s infamous hunting trips that he used to take us on. I would rather spend an entire weekend digging ditches. From my experience, there’s only two reasons that most guys go hunting: 1) It’s an opportunity to get away from the wife for a few days and, 2) you’ll spend most of that time drunk off your ass.

Since I had this experience between 7 and 10, there was no drinking involved. I’ve had a few friends in adult life try to drag me along on their hunting trips. Fuck that. There’s other ways to spend a drunken weekend that don’t involve gutting a dead elk and then dragging the remaining 400 lbs. of him 2 miles back to a truck. Then, when you get there, you have to get it into the goddamn truck, which makes getting your fat passed-0ut uncle (who pissed his pants) into a truck look downright easy. Fuck, I’d rather spend the weekend cleaning restaurant grease traps.

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:41 pm

It’s funny to learn these things as an adult. “Why was uncle jerry always so much fun?” And then you learn it’s because Uncle Jerry is a fucking booze hound.

I can’t wait to be that for my nieces.

Bill G. April 1, 2012 at 12:34 am

Where were you when they were writing the National Lampoon’s Vacation movies?

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:42 pm

I have to say this. I was born in 1987. I was an infant.

elizabeth- flourishinprogress April 17, 2012 at 12:09 pm

Giiiiiirl, why you gotta do that to yourself?

My parents really loved road trips as a kid. And we didn’t have an RV. And my parents didn’t believe in stopping for bathroom breaks.

I hope you know what I’m tryin to get at hear.

Hint: Bucket
elizabeth- flourishinprogress recently posted..Monday Dare: Are you a runner? And not the kind on a treadmill.

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:43 pm

I’ll take a bucket over trying to pee on a toilet while my jackass stepdad is going 100 MPH down a dirt road.

Shit gets messy, yo.

elizabeth- flourishinprogress April 17, 2012 at 12:10 pm

Oh, and I misspelled “here”.

Nice, Liz, Nice.
elizabeth- flourishinprogress recently posted..Monday Dare: Are you a runner? And not the kind on a treadmill.

Noa May 2, 2012 at 3:46 pm

I love you for correcting it.

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