Welcome to Loon Lake
Right now I'm in Maine at a very large camp for apparently very rich Jewish kids. It looks like a cross between the camp in Dirty Dancing and the lake in Friday the Thirteenth because it's so abandoned since there are no kids here at the moment. I feel like one of the kids who got lured into the mountain by the Pied Piper-the videogames and pinball machines are rigged so we don't have to pay. Boy do I suck big moose cock at Donkey Kong, but my Ms Pacman skills haven't left me. We took the paddle boat out and just drifted-my jeans rolled up my feet trailing in the water like Huck Finn-the boat even had a beverage holder. Yesterday the Big bad and I investigated a biker bar. Investigated in the sense that we both drank Pabst Blue Ribbons, and I talked to the bartender about going to Italy.

Soon we shall be having a surf and turn dinner with real Maine lobster. I've managed not to kill anyone, although it's early yet. Unfortunately I can't give more details but I'll say this I've been reminded why I enjoy travelling alone.

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