::applauds loudly::

You are my hero Daniel Boob.

And after much apologizing the stalwart slack jawed yokel from Kankakee recieves his keys and spends the next forty minutes shivering naked in his automobile. The car heat warms him up and he changes clothes, and pronounces that his name is no longer Drew Charles Parsons. It's Daniel Boob.

Oh, Zach, what a time I had out a Green Oaks the weekend before last. I started off on a run which took me deep into the woods for about twelve and a half minutes. I turn around to go back and look down at my feet. They are standing on grass and not a camp trail.
"Shit!" I exclaim. No worries though I'll just follow the general direction back from where I came. It's been raining on me the whole time so I'm pretty wet by now, but I don't care yet. I climb/stumble/slip up great hills at Green Oaks all the time getting more and more wet. Finally after about forty five minutes I see a lake. I stumble down a ridge line and get close to an inlet where I plan to start walking around the lake in search of my campsite.
"Akk" I shout, as I slip and fall right into the inlet. Now I am swimming. Swimming to cross the inlet and I lurch out of it totally soaked. Then, I start slogging along the sides of the lake in the water and muck in search of the camp. After going from one side to the other, I discover that this is the wrong goddamed lake. So I climb up the ridge line again getting muddy and stuck full of thorns, and I proceed to find a path. After fifteen minutes of following this path I come to a bunch of cabins and truck which pulls up to me on the road side. The man driving gives this soaked, scum ridden, punk a look over and asks...
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine" the lost boob replies, "Do you know where Green Oaks is?"
"Two miles that way." says the truck driver as he points in the opposite direction the bewildered nature lover is going in. "Wait here and I'll get my bike." the man offers.
"No, no I don't want to be a bother, just point me in the right direction and I'll be fine." the runner stupidly remarks.
"No," the truck driver asserts, "you're way lost, I'll be right back." And the man fetches his dune buggy which the lost runner of Green Oaks rides on the back of for fifteen solid minutes until he is returned to the settlement of his comrades back at Green Oaks. He strides up to the tent and demands his keys.
"Keys, what keys?" giggles Christina, who is huddled in the tent out of the rain.
"I'M DRENCHED YOU WENCH! GIMME MY KEYS!" booms the Dante of the backwoods of Illinois.

this time it was drew from NJ. last time it was drew and he did wander off and put something in his mouth. you should ask him about it.

hey all, hope the camping trip was a success and you kept an eye on Drew to make sure he didn't wander off or put anything in his mouth (you know how young republicans can get if you don't watch them 24/7)