Well the sign ups for blogathon are tomorrow. I've been watching horror movies like a fiend in order to come up with 48 horror films and at the same time furiously outlining stories for my 48 stories about boys. Bakerina and Blogmonkey are going to join me in what promises to be an all night star studded extravanga of sleeplessness, cold showers, and caffeine drinks. If you have a film you would like to suggest to me (it would help if I can borrow it) please let me know.
That night the Camp Owner arranged for us to have surf n' turf, lobsters and steak. It seems there was quite a bit of insanity the night before, and so most of us had vowed to take it easy on the liquor. I sat slowly nursing a cup of sangria while we ate appetizers and chatted. The Model was still not speaking to the Tough Guy who kept trying to draw her out into conversation. There was live music for dinner, a guitarist. After dinner, a large bonfire was set up near the water. I was tired by this time and asked Prufrock to make me a Jack and coke the next time he headed to the house. We all migrated to the fire. As the Aussie eye candy came down, they would sit down by the fire and say "Hey, how are ya?" with heavy accents. Tattoos and accents, I tried to focus on the fire.

The Camp Owner had brought the ingredients for Smores and so the Model came down laden with bags and bags of graham crackers, marshmallows, and Hershey's Chocolate. The Model had never had a Smore and neither had many of the Aussie Eye Candy. So I got busy with a stick and few marshmallows. I made one for the Model showing her how to put it together. After she became my Sous Chef setting up crackers and chocolate while I gently toasted the mallows (I don't like mine burnt) passing them to the hot Australians.

CQ was the only one who was drinking heavily. The Amazon and Big Bad sat by the fire, but slipped away early. The Model left on her own, but quickly followed by the Tough Guy who made it a point not to drink the entire day. I sat on a log with Prufrock telling him what had happened. Around two or so the party was breaking up. CQ talked the Camp Owner into bringing down all the half finished bottles of wine and distributing them among the remain party guests. CQ was already sloshed enough to be slurring his words when the Camp Owner gave him his own bottle of white wine. I headed up to the Main House to sleep in the wine cellar again.

Which is why I didn't find out about what happened next until the following morning.

CQ stayed until the end of the party. He was so drunken one of the female counselors walked him back to the Infirmary and put him into bed. About twenty minutes later, he decided to take a shower.

Can you see where this is going?

In the night, The Model woke up and wanted to go to the bathroom. She heard the water running and decided to wait. After a while, she decided she didn't care who was in there. As soon as she opened the door, she realized the bathroom floor was covered in water. CQ had passed out in the shower. The Model tried to get him to get out, talking to him, but he wouldn't budge. Finally the Amazon disturbed by the noise, marched in announced that he would either get out of the shower or she would drag him out and proceeded to do just that. After dragging him from the shower, he proceeded to complain that he was cold so they swadled him in sheets, blankets, and towels. He passed out in bed without any more interruption.

Can you begin to see why I was displeased with who I was bunked with?

At least, I didn't have to see him wet, naked, and drunk; a blessing I shall take with me to the grave.