Here’s the deal. I hate corndogs. This is nothing against the creator of corndogs or any of his / her descendents, but I do hate them. I also hate the idea of camping, which leads me to my recent corndog consuming exploit.
My daughter’s fifth grade class had a camping trip to Camp Mosquito Up Your Nose (name changed to reflect actual incident). I had never been camping before. I survived growing up in the ghetto so the idea of purposely entering the treacherous wilderness, to sleep on the ground, fighting off bugs and potentially rabid wild animals, never appealed to me. “Why suffer unnecessarily?” was always my motto. But my daughter just loved the idea of me chaperoning, and I loved the idea of her being happy. So I signed up for Camp MUYN.