In a backwater belly pond.Lens Larque wrote:Shimmering fountains of nonsense
Is There Any Reason To Believe That BoC Are Still A Thing?
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This thread reminds me a bit of something that happened years back at YMCA camp.
Ah, yes. I was but a mere child, in my early teenage years, passing through life in a repetitive and annoying manner. I had, if I remember properly, just graduated my freshmen year of high school and traveled from Arizona to Illinois with the intent of visiting my aunt. When I arrived, everything was fine, until of course I embarked on the second portion of my trip, traversing out of the Chicago metro into a small, foresty area outside of the city. There lied camp Duncan, a YMCA traditional camp (with the lake and all) nested in a beautiful, rural area. I checked in and along with the other children, we met up at the camp hall, became acquainted with the counselors and were enlightened as to what all we'd be doing over the course of the week. I wasn't extremely excited, but I tried to be as optimistic as I could about it. For the first time on the trip, I had felt okay. I went to my cabin with a counselor and entered the small building. This is where the trouble began. I had found out that the cabin I had been placed in was the tourettes syndrome cabin (Camp Duncan is known for a group of campers with the disorder that come every year and meet others who also have TS). Now, it'd be nice if I could say that these were the sort of tourettes kids who flicked their wrists from time to time, twisted their neck, blinked excessively and never really bothered anyone. Unfortunately, half the kids were very vocal, several of which in fact actually had coprolalia (the classification of tourettes where someone swears uncontrollably). It was very surreal and detrimental to the experience, and of course it was not their fault, but it was rude of the counselors not to allow me to sleep in a different cabin. Over the course of the week, I got very little sleep and became very irritated. One day, it changed for the worse like crazy. It was the second to last day of camp and I had just gotten off the blob at the lake, coming back to my cabin. When I walked in, what I found was horrifying. I saw a camp counselor lying on the floor, naked, tied up. Standing over him was one of the campers, who was reciting some sort of Hare Krishna mantra while holding in his hands the heart of another counselor. That particular counselor's body was attached to the wall, via a series of sporks. As I ran out the door, I heard what sounded like devouring sounds as well as screams. I ran to tell the camp administrator but when I entered camp hall I found him having a group orgy with 9 other camp counselors, yelling "taco night!" and simultaneously chanting the words to Rammstein's entire discography backwards.
Oh yeah, then I beat some dude in chess and got picked up by my aunt. Then I went back to Arizona and had a donut at Sky Harbor.
All and all, it was a pretty good trip.
Also, I may have exaggerated part of the story.
Ah, yes. I was but a mere child, in my early teenage years, passing through life in a repetitive and annoying manner. I had, if I remember properly, just graduated my freshmen year of high school and traveled from Arizona to Illinois with the intent of visiting my aunt. When I arrived, everything was fine, until of course I embarked on the second portion of my trip, traversing out of the Chicago metro into a small, foresty area outside of the city. There lied camp Duncan, a YMCA traditional camp (with the lake and all) nested in a beautiful, rural area. I checked in and along with the other children, we met up at the camp hall, became acquainted with the counselors and were enlightened as to what all we'd be doing over the course of the week. I wasn't extremely excited, but I tried to be as optimistic as I could about it. For the first time on the trip, I had felt okay. I went to my cabin with a counselor and entered the small building. This is where the trouble began. I had found out that the cabin I had been placed in was the tourettes syndrome cabin (Camp Duncan is known for a group of campers with the disorder that come every year and meet others who also have TS). Now, it'd be nice if I could say that these were the sort of tourettes kids who flicked their wrists from time to time, twisted their neck, blinked excessively and never really bothered anyone. Unfortunately, half the kids were very vocal, several of which in fact actually had coprolalia (the classification of tourettes where someone swears uncontrollably). It was very surreal and detrimental to the experience, and of course it was not their fault, but it was rude of the counselors not to allow me to sleep in a different cabin. Over the course of the week, I got very little sleep and became very irritated. One day, it changed for the worse like crazy. It was the second to last day of camp and I had just gotten off the blob at the lake, coming back to my cabin. When I walked in, what I found was horrifying. I saw a camp counselor lying on the floor, naked, tied up. Standing over him was one of the campers, who was reciting some sort of Hare Krishna mantra while holding in his hands the heart of another counselor. That particular counselor's body was attached to the wall, via a series of sporks. As I ran out the door, I heard what sounded like devouring sounds as well as screams. I ran to tell the camp administrator but when I entered camp hall I found him having a group orgy with 9 other camp counselors, yelling "taco night!" and simultaneously chanting the words to Rammstein's entire discography backwards.
Oh yeah, then I beat some dude in chess and got picked up by my aunt. Then I went back to Arizona and had a donut at Sky Harbor.
All and all, it was a pretty good trip.
Also, I may have exaggerated part of the story.
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That made me giggle a lot X)Rodheh wrote:This thread reminds me a bit of something that happened years back at YMCA camp.
hecks yeah, I'm in.Mexicola wrote:The best post of the thread so far. Certainly the most sensible.vballs wrote:would anyone like a pint? im buying lets all meet up , get smashed (or not) listen to cool tunes and have a splendid jolly old time
Sir, I like the cut of your jib
"grand mistress of the grace note freedledeedee melodies" - Cupz, 2026
I really want a curry and pub night out with some UK twoismers, I reckon that would be a laugh
Sagan: In order to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.
Basinski: I wanted Cascade to become this crystalline organism like a star or a liquid crystal spaceship, a jellyfish traveling through the galaxy…
Basinski: I wanted Cascade to become this crystalline organism like a star or a liquid crystal spaceship, a jellyfish traveling through the galaxy…
Curry? I love it when people talk dirtyfujee wrote:I really want a curry and pub night out with some UK twoismers, I reckon that would be a laugh
'Chicken Tikka Dansaak, Saag Aloo, a Keema Naan, eleventy-seven poppadoms and a pint of Cobra if you please squire, there's a good lad.'
Again, it just trips off the tongue. Had one last night over Pompey way. Man alive it was awesome.
I would be so, so up for this.fujee wrote:I really want a curry and pub night out with some UK twoismers, I reckon that would be a laugh
I'll see you when the sun sets east, don't forget me.
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Mex that sounds so good, we should definitely get one organised some day, need to find a reasonable city for everyone to drive to though, and of course a good curry house.
Sagan: In order to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.
Basinski: I wanted Cascade to become this crystalline organism like a star or a liquid crystal spaceship, a jellyfish traveling through the galaxy…
Basinski: I wanted Cascade to become this crystalline organism like a star or a liquid crystal spaceship, a jellyfish traveling through the galaxy…
It's cool. More curry and BoC for the rest of us.Mexicola wrote:OK. I'll cross you off the list then, yes?warphead wrote:I wouldn'tTwoist wrote: I would be so, so up for this.
I'll see you when the sun sets east, don't forget me.
https://www.instagram.com/powerline_misfortune/
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