Country Camping was everything it was last year and more. Instead of three single gals finding themselves in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of partiers, there were seven single gals in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of (mostly male) partiers. Milla and I hooked it up with the beach volleyball stars, and she took some great dives and scored lots of points. Jenn showed the entire park her lungs with the "penis yelling" contest, Maria cultivated some grey poupon, Kat was numb, true to form, Shruti started in the car ride up and kept going all weekend, Sarah earned a P-R-I-N, (she's such a princess), and I attracted the wierdest guys in the park, including a Bernardo wanna-be, a male prostitute and a chicken chaser, as per the norm.

Another interesting tidbit about my country camping experience: Friday night was spent mostly in the St. Thomas hospital due to some drunken baseball playing by yours truly in the middle of the afternoon, barefoot, in a field. I jumped up to catch an over-thrown ball by some dude who thought he could play, and I landed on the side of my ankle, cruching it in three places and earning myself a second degree sprain, torn tendons, purple bruises and crutches for the next week or so. Good thing Kat was just sober enough to make the treck with me. She's really good at pushing that wheelchair around, was fantastic company, plus we got some real food out of it.  

It wouldn't have been a good time any other way.