I honestly don’t know where to start. I did not want to go. I was in my sweats and his sweatshirt when my Delicious pain in the ass showed up. He tore the blankets off my bed twice. He gave me back the sheet… only to rip it off again. There wasn’t an option to go. He’s willing to pay my way if I go. I can’t say no.
I’m so happy I didn’t.
I can’t possibly begin to explain the shit I’ve seen in the last few hours. I feel like bleaching my eyes.
It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.
I can honestly say I have never been hated on so intensely in my life. Oooooh baby the haterade was waist high and full of ugly people.
Yeah bitches, I have a coach bag and I would die before I’d wear Carharts or Wranglers.
Go ahead and kiss my stuck up ass.
Get a nice long look at me and hate on. It gives me something to write about.
Safe and sound with my Delicious wing-man, Ms. Sober-One-Kenobi and I aren’t loving it. Thank god, this is an epic experience to say the least.
We waited in line for nearly 40 minutes. It’s insane how many people are going to this shit show. I’m stunned. We drive in past a camper with a mirrored disco ball and strobe light mounted to a sheet of plywood thrown on the roof of the camper. No lie. We even sought it out and got invited to their keg party.
This is old school back woods Idaho. The boys are wearing beads because the titties are gonna start popping out after the third case of Keystone Light.
I hear a boy shout…
B- That’s tight like Taylor Swift!
O- That’s awesome.
Too much. This is too much to even believe.
There are more trucks WITHOUT a windshield than with one. There’s a woman with calves as big as my thighs, tattooed in a jungle theme. I’m having to physically restrain myself to keep from taking pictures.
This is better than the people of Walmart.
This is where the people of Walmart come from.
Delicioius looks at me and laughs….
D- If a bomb went off in the middle of this thing? A Democrat would be elected for the next decade.
He’s intermittently shouting “Obama SUCKS” out the windows of the mud bogger we’re packed into, while Miss Babyteeth shouts “Show me yer titties” out of the other side.
There are men obliging.
I have seen it all.
I’ve seen it all with a side of crack. These people are epic.
I’m kicking myself for not taking paper.
I’m stone cold sober and trying to burn everything into my memory… I could retire tomorrow if I wrote a book about this little crazyfest.
The ambulance comes tearing in, full lights & sirens… and Mennonite women in dresses and white caps hop out. No lie. White ankle socks, tennis shoes and long dresses. Pulling a stretcher. I have literally seen it all.
You’d think if you had to be a paramedic you’d take a day off on the whole dress thing. At least for mudbog weekend?
At any rate- it was fucking hysterical to see it first hand. It took all I had to not pull the camera out. Why not play your asshole card when you could share it with the world?
So we have pictures with a crazy tweaker…. and pictures of a whole bog-family. Complete with the “All In Balls Out” sweatshirts.
and last but not least?
A picture of the makeshift parachute tent, complete with Keystone Light cans on the tent stakes, which are really the parachute strings. With a fire in the middle. It looks like a giant green mushroom, and the boys like us… not so much the girls.
We hit the bonfire, which is a giant pile of trees. Delicious puts on his mullet wig and quickly becomes the most popular boy at the party. Is this real life? Do this many people “like this” really exist?
Wow. Damn. Holy.
Delicious and I are walking around and he’s randomly crashing parties of people. Introducing himself. Making friends. I am so out of place I’m laughing. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, even considering the mullet.
The mudbog race is the weirdest white trash party I’ve ever been to.. and I completely regret not taking more pictures.