not guilty

Yes, it was a busy Memorial Day weekend. Indeed! I didn't have to go anywhere remotely close to Disneyland, thank the 7 pound 6 ounce blue eyed baby Jesus. But I did have myself a bit of a parade. I like to call mine the Parade of Idiocy, because it is you know, about me.

We spent the weekend at Campland! by the Bay, a funny little urban campground full of funny little party people. It's less camping and more party til you fall asleep in your car/tent/truck bed. I don't know if there really is an exclamation point in Campland! But there definitely should be.

Campsite! at Campland!

The first virutal float in the Parade of Idiots is a story of carnage and misplaced blame. It was not my fault! It wasn't. Screw all of you. We had a bit of a raucous first night at Campland!

The next morning, I fortuitously placed a big fat roast in the crock pot that was plugged into the hook up at our campsite! at campland! It seemed to take forever to cook, and our campmates had wee kids who mandated an early dinner hour, so when it wasn't ready by dinnertime,  I opted for plan B. I removed the roast from the crock and placed it in a bowl. I lay the plastic lid atop the bowl, but did not seal it. I TOLD my husband that the roast was cooling and would need to be stored in our cooler as soon as humanly possible, but not right that second.   

Then a little while later, I was chatting with my girl Autumn when she pointed out that maybe the voltage at our campland! plug was less potent than those to which we'd become accostomed, and maybe the roast just needed to keep on a'cooking. So I called Bill over at the campsite to ask that he take the roast out of the bowl and deliver it back to the crock pot for a while.  He replied: "there's nothing in this bowl but barbecue sauce!"

Then he noticed the snarling, smirking beast licking her chops under the table. The dog ate the entire roast. Bill insists that he had no idea the roast was in a semi covered bowl on the table, he says he would never have agreed to that plan.

I insists that it was not my fault. At worst, I should be considered not guilty by reason of temporary idiocy. The law protects those of us with obvious mental defects.