Many of our get-togethers with certain sets of friends center around the playing of a game called “Cards Against Humanity.” Don’t look it up if you don’t know what it is already- you’ll be offended. No, really, don’t. The game is described as a game for horrible people, and while it does make us feel horrible, it makes us laugh even more. In laughs per buck, this game has delivered more than any other game we’ve played including charades with some of Toni’s family. That said, apparently the Cards Against Humanity company wasn’t cranking out content as fast as we needed so we started writing some of our own cards, which I suppose makes us even more horrible people. The Fergusons, a social media adverse character who would be opposed to being listed here and who we shall simply call Mr. R, The Evans, and the Kounses have all contributed, as have the Walls as well now- so we’ll probably have to rename the whole damn thing now. P.S. We’re well aware that Mr. E would have been much funnier than Mr. R.
Breakfast
CAH parties generally include some food. Sometimes the food is a bottle of wine, some cheese, and one sleeve of Ritz crackers. Sometimes there’s a theme. Italian, Taco Night, Fair and Circus Foods, Only Foods served at IKEA are themes that can be complicated. Not everyone loves the plant balls marinated in Norwegian beet juice from Ikea. Our informal poll of FREKW attendees revealed, however, that EVERYONE likes Breakfast for Dinner. Probably because IKEA doesn’t serve Breakfast. Those Swedes are missing out.
Camping
Back in the day, Toni worked at Hewlett Packard in Loveland, Colorado, and the company offered employees the ability to stay in wonderfully equipped cabins at their “Hermit Park” campground on a lottery basis and at a ridiculously low price. Now, decades letter, Toni planned a cabin camping trip for the FREK & W group at that same park, now county run, but still sporting those same cabins for an albeit much pricier cost.
Thick mosquitos chose their favorite victims early. A roaring fire didn’t scare them off. Smore’s were cooked over open fires. Jokes were told. John Denver songs were sung. Sticks were whittled. Memories were made.
