Sunday, April 06, 2008

Monkey Fists and Roasted Peeps

Okay, first of all, the Yonder Mountain show last week was fabulous. Turns out, I had my hopes up for good reason. See how much fun we had:





NOW ON TO MORE CURRENT AFFAIRS.

I had to go work at an event in North Georgia this weekend that was organized by the Wild Turkey Federation, or as I like to call it, the WTF. It was basically a weekend of outdoors-related clinics and classes for women. It was AWESOME.

I knew this event was going to hoist the bar a few notches and set a new standard for atypical events as soon as I rolled up the mile-long driveway to the Wildlife Club. I creeped along not really knowing what I was looking for when shotgun blasts punched the air around me. Holy Shit! I kept going, just hoping they weren't shooting at me. Before long the clubhouse appeared and I figured out where I was supposed to set up. While I was setting up, I noticed that I was definitely an outsider there. I was the only person not wearing at least one item of camouflage clothing and I didn't have any Confederate flag stickers on any of my stuff. Several people eyed me suspiciously as they rode by with shotguns mounted to their four-wheelers. I got all my stuff set up and then the local bike shop guy and I had to give two presentations on mountain biking. Then we got women set up on bikes and Mike, the bike shop guy, took them out on a ride. While they were gone, I had some time to check out what else was going on around us.

I walked up to the clubhouse in search of some water. I opened the front door and stepped right in the middle of what appeared to be a pretty intense round of ... get this ... Possum Tossin. They were throwing stuffed possums into various buckets to score prizes. I tried to walk around that whole racket and found myself in the middle of yet another wildlife-based activity. These women were sitting around learning how to fashion elegant and useful baskets out of deer antlers. I overheard some other women who were waiting on their next classes to start.

One woman asked another, "What class you waitin' on?"
The other woman replied, "Monkey Fistin."

Don't give me that look. You think you're confused? How do you think I felt standing there in a camo-clad PETA nightmare wondering if I had heard correctly?

I started talking to some of the organizers of the event who were hanging around overseeing everything. They suggested that I stay and camp with them that night around the bonfire. I told them I'd think about it. As I walked back out onto the porch, I was greeted by a large jolly fellow who also insisted that I stay for the evening festivities. He informed me that he'd be providing the main entertainment of the evening. He told me he was a storyteller and that tonight, he knew he wasn't playing to no group of Scouts, so he was gonna be pushin the envelope and keepin everyone on they toes.

I walked back to my trailer thinking to myself, "This is gonna be soo good. There is no way I'm missing this."

So, I pitched my tent over with all the other tents and then went back to the clubhouse to await the pushing of the storytelling envelope. The last of the evening's classes were still wrapping things up, so I stood outside and talked to the lady in charge of the whole she-bang for a little while. She was actually pretty cool and we were having a pretty good conversation about nothing in particular when I let my curiosity get the best of me. There was a slight pause in the conversation, so I turned to her in all seriousness and asked, "What's Monkey Fisting?"

I cringed as I awaited the answer. I just knew it was going to be something stupid and I was going to get dragged into it. She got all excited and told me all about Monkey Fisting. She told me it was really neat and that it only took about ten minutes to learn and that I just had to learn to do it myself. She really didn't give me a choice. She took me by the elbow and dragged me in to find the guy who could teach me about Monkey Fisting. You're probably getting worried now because I haven't told you what Monkey Fisting is. Turns out, it's actually kinda neat and is potentially useful. Monkey Fisting refers to the act of tying a Monkey's Fist knot in a rope. This guy was pretty passionate about Monkey Fists and knots in general, so now I know a lot more than I did before about knots and ropes and the practical uses of both. So there you have it. I know some of you are probably relieved to find that Monkey Fisting is nowhere near as inappropriate or harmful as it sounds. I also know that there are a few of you out there who are actually disappointed at the same news.

By the time all that was done, the bonfire had been lit and that large jolly man from before was just getting warmed up. When I got over to the fire, the first thing I did was looked around the circle to figure out just who was drinking beer and who wasn't. I inserted myself near the beer drinkers and soon found myself taking long cold swigs of Milwaukee's Best. Keepin it classy. I could try to use words to describe the scene that took place around that fire, but this will work better:

You won't be able to see much in the video, so this photo will help you to better imagine the scene to go along with the sound:





I'm not even sure what to follow that up with. I was standing there with my camera wishing any of my friends had been there so I could look at them in disbelief and silently mouth the words "Are you seeing this?"

I stood there the whole time getting excited about when this dude was gonna "push the envelope." I was overwhelmingly disappointed when I realized that his idea of "pushing the envelope" was telling a story that ended with a moral advising listeners not to light a match in a tent where you had just farted.

After the story telling was done, most everyone went off their separate ways except for about 8 of us who stayed around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Someone had the most brilliant idea to bring marshmallow peeps to roast. I can't believe I've never thought of that. It was incredible. We'd all been drinking so anything any of us said was just hilarious to everyone there. I woke up in my tent the next morning and realized that really only some of the that stuff was funny, but one thing was for sure: roasting marshmallow bunny peeps is one hell of a bright idea.

6 comments:

G as in Chris said...

I'm pretty sure I heard you join in on that last chorus there. Don't try to deny it.

Juana said...

wow sister.. maybe you should start going around barefoot and playing the banjo. :-D

Anonymous said...

Isn't it nice to be the least redneck in a group?

Anonymous said...

I would appreciate more visual materials, to make your blog more attractive, but your writing style really compensates it. But there is always place for improvement

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