Hey ladies! Call off the hairy fish eaters (seals, get it? Fish eaters, furry, Ok, bad pun.) I'm carrying a white flag, and am bringing back a very lovable Tinkerbell. Now don't get up. I just want to talk, no funny business. I was just trying to get you ladies active. I mean, how can you just sit around in a hot tub for days on end? Don't you get board. I just couldn't do it. I'd go nuts. Go to my post and see what's available to you at the lake. You won't be able to resist.
Of course, you'll have to behave yourself. After all, it is the "He-Man, Woman Hater's Club" campsite. We will not allow any re-arranging of the camp, or tidying things up. You can only come during the day, and only if you promise to be full of energy and vitality, and willing to become as a child again, without fear, anxious for adventure and good times.
We have something to offer that you won't find in a hot tub, pampered by sissy-boys. Read on and you will see what I mean. Oh, and if you don't want to come, that's Ok too. We'll just have to be more creative with our guerilla tactics. I mean, two seals against several creative geniuses. They may know how to guard agains ordinary mortals, but...
This could be yours: Oh ladies, my lakefront campsite lives in cyberspace, where anybody can be anything they want. I've got my 21 year-old body back. And I don't require glasses anymore. Plus, I've got all the knowledge and wisdom of 50 years in that 21 year-old body.
Now, do you want to stay whatever age you are over at Mudbug's tub, or do you want to get whatever body type you've always dreamed of having over at the lake, with the built in skill to particpate in any activity you may have dreamt about over the years? Not only do we have the lake, the boat, and several personal water craft, but there's a ski-hill with a perfectly groomed 2-mile intermediate level slope about half-a day's walk from the shore-line, where the temperature never dips below 26 degrees. And the run-off from the slope provides a white-water-sporting paradise, not to mention some great fly fishing action. We also have mastered the sea-monster rodeo circuit. Ken is our current champion, having ridden the Lock Ness monster until it was thouroughly broken. It is now a favorite ride in a pre-school petting zoo. But when he first lassoed it and climbed on, well it was right up there with the exploits of that tornado riding legend of the old west, Pecos Bill.
Oh, and we have some of the best cooks from DC at our site, and our own version of an "Iron Chef" competition going on. And we need a mixed-gender group of judges to sample everything from competition chili, to this amazingly creamy New York cheesecake that's covered with a velvety chocolate ganache and freshly sliced strawberries.
Hey Bucky, how's the Kobe Beef comming along? Is it ready to go on the fire yet? I've got the portabellas and morrels washed.
Well that's it. So what'll it be, more guerilla tactics and your own kobe beefcake (that would be pepe, you know, simple eye candy, looks good but doesn't satisfy anything), or real men? Come join us, and my wife, and have the time of your lives.
Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North __________________
"There is no success outside the home that justifies failure within the home."