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A gentlemen at camp liked what we were doing and purchased us some wireless N stuff so the staff could do work in more places.  The problem has been that the DNS service we use is not acting correctly eliciting the following:

Joe: Terry, you can access facebook, are the dominican monks that guard the Internet on strike?
Me: The DNS service isn’t working, you could go to hothotsluts.com without being stopped.
Joe: Really? *wait* Damn, hothotsluts.com doesn’t exist.  It should.
Me: Hold on… I now own hothotsluts.com.

So, I’m now the proud owner of hothotsluts.com, I’m not sure where I should direct it.  In other news, we discovered that hotsluts.com does indeed exist and with a byline “sluttier than you could ever imagine” I don’t know how they’re not #1 on the slut charts.

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So, the day started out great, with crispy bacon in the Dining Hall and everything.  I thought I could slip away from the shackles of karma, but I couldn’t.  One of the provos destroyed his ankle while waving at Andy Clarke.  Injury often stalks those who wave to the Briton.  I, being the only one with a car, got to drive the fellow to the hospital but with the caveat that it was after a pit stop.  The Economist’s Technology Monitor had been updated so about 45 minutes later I made the 200 foot walk to take the kid to the hospital.  I was worried that he was faking his sprained ankle so I made several jarring stops, based on the volume of the screams he wasn’t faking it.

On arrival, we sat in the ER waiting area surrounded by people with funny conditions.  Funny uh oh, not funny ha ha.  We played hide and go seek with our radios in the waiting room.  After a two hour wait, he went to get an x-ray and we tried for a group shot but weren’t allowed.  Andy and our next got our charge a large collection of Hannah Montana stickers for being such a brave little Scout.  I look forward to seeing how this ends.

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So, this week there’s actually a siesta period after lunch and as an assistant Scoutmaster for a unit of provos, I stepped up to the plate and we began jumping rope.  After quickly exhausting a number of black tweener stereotypes we got more competative.  Someone challenged the three staff members and I went second after Andy who got 11 jumps.  Someone started singing “Miss Mary Mack” and was out after getting hit in the face while doubled over laughing.

Kevin Ott got up next and to secure my record of not being last I yelled “FAIL!” every time the rope came around.  My record of 9 was three times the three he got in before he also failed to jump while doubled over.

Victory through adversity.

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While at Kirby last week the kids made small shelf units out of excess wood. As I watched small hands struggle to efficiently cut wood and assemble pieces without personal injury that should the Chinese catch up to america’s information economy we could always fight back by harnessing child labor’s hidden adorable side.

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I spent the day at camp Kirby playing adult while Whit was camp director.  All went well and I got to take some mental notes about the Webelos Weekend I’ll be doing in October.  After about four hours of becoming exhausted watching children run around I noticed the font space of Kirby.  Everything is in one of three fonts: Playbill for anything in a western theme, calibri for anything that’s official like “Do not enter” signs and comic sans for anything that kids see.

Every time I did the Cub Scout sign I’d jam my fingers into the ceiling which was awkward but there was a stark contrast between songs at OSR and songs at Kirby:  at OSR the adults get into songs and the kids stand about aloofly thinking their above singing while at Kirby it’s the opposite, except for one dude that was absolutely rocking father Abraham.  30 Cub Scouts doing Father Abraham is like watching a bunch of epileptics have seizures while standing.  It’s awesome.

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Normally I’m weary of people who combine two dissimilar foods with the intent that they’ll get better and today my theory was confirmed.  A unit leader enjoyed his stay and sent us a bag of plain/cheddar/caramel popcorn and I’d been picking out the cheddar ones to eat through out the day.  An office mate recommended I try all three at once and I did.

Curse him.

Cheddar and caramel don’t strike me as a good combination and they were not.  I put this combination in the same category as a brownie covered in barbeque sauce, the chocolate covered slim jim and steak ice cream as foods that are an afront to a just a vengeful God.  While I’m normally opposed to segregation, keep the whites, coloreds and yellows separate, when it comes to popcorn.

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I finally received a night out Friday, and by night I mean a 90 minute window between 11:00 PM and 12:30 AM.  After changing into civies (which for camp staff is nearly identical to the staff uniform except for the Hawaiian shirt) and dashing to Applebees for discount appetizers I see a pile of disaffected teenagers fulfilling several stereotypes involving impressive women with cars.  I decide to fulfill a dream:

I go to the top of the parking lot, roll down the windows crank out Pachabel’s Canon and zoom past with my head the window yelling “wuz up, ladiez!!!”