as if camping in the pouring rain wasn't enough, the bastard set out the following weekend with the mad russian and his merry band of island dwellers. 3 groups set out from 3 different places (queens, brooklyn, and new jersey) to arrive at the same grocery store near lake george. i arrive at the mad russian's place to find that he's holding some poor girl captive and apparently, she's cleaning his home for him. the poor dear. on the same token, unless he's being beaten with a pizza box or trying to eat a sparkler, the mad russian keeps a clean place. anyway, we set out towards parts appalachia.
now while there was always the constant threat of awful weather around us, we seemed to get to the canoe landing without the benefit of the pouring rain. you see, the bastard checked the weather, and it said, "it's gonna rain again, shiteyes". but i was going anyway. this is all the bastard is getting for vacation this year. you'd think a well rounded jackass such as myself would actually have plans this summer but no, notsomuch. oh well. the selling point of going to indian lake islands is while you have a 5 hour drive ahead of you (and perhaps a 90 minute trip to the grocery store), you get to camp on an island. and that's good. because on an island, no one can hear you scream. we get to the landing and i'm canoeing shotgun with the mad russian (he usually prefers alone but we are six this year) and i learn a valuable lesson about the canoe trip, "you see bastard, despite the fact that no one hear thinks it's a race to the island...it IS." wise words and since i was riding in the back, he even got to land first. victory is his.
oh yeah, long story short. we got there without rain or incident and there was fire. what'd you expect? a white whale? —the bastard
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