The Peace Corps

By TentCamper

This friend of mine joined the Peace Corps a few years ago. He was a young guy and wanted to do something special…something for others. He was soon sent off to some desert area near Egypt for his first mission (or whatever they call it) to help build school houses and teach children in need. What a great guy. Smart, loving, dedicated, honest and giving.

Anyway, when he returned we got together for a few beers and to talk about his “journey.” After he had downed more than a pitcher, he began telling me a story that I don’t think he ever intended on telling anyone…but I just sat there nodding my head…and listening.

The story goes as follows:

“So once I got to the desert Corps camp, I was shown into the camp manager’s office. He had me sit down and proceeded to go over all of the rules, timelines, jobs, personnel, etc. When he was done he showed me to my bunk house. I got my stuff situated and joined up with the rest of the workers and started on my journey to help those in need. After a few weeks, I noticed (out of nothing more than my manly urges) that there were no women at the camp. I brought it up to one of my co-workers who said that due to the local customs, women were not allowed to work here and that I should go talk about it with the camp manager. I was a bit embarrassed so I did nothing about it at the time. After a few more weeks, the urges were getting pretty bad and the sleeping quarters and showers were not conducive for pleasuring my self. I decided to bite the bullet and go talk to the camp manager about it.

I went into the office and told the camp manager that I’d been there for more than 6 weeks and was wondering if there were any women that were around…I was getting pretty frustrated and kind of wanted some release. The manager looked at me and said, “Well…around the back of the office…there is a camel…” I cut him off there and said, “Thanks but I’ll be ok.” And I bolted from the office.

It was about a month later when I went back to the office, basically clutching my groin…as if I were going to explode. I told the manager, again, about my situation and he once again said, “OK, there is a camel in the barn behind this building and that is what most of the guys here use…” I cut him off again and ran from the office…thinking about how nasty that would be…especially after all off these other guys…fuck that!

Now I had been there for 3 and a half months…I ran into the manager’s office, with duress on my face. I sternly asked about that camel. He pointed out the back window to the barn. I ran out the door and around to the barn. After grabbing a stool from the side of the barn and placing it behind the tied up camel, I jumped up on the stool, ripped my pants down, lifted the camel’s tail and ….OH MY GOD! I have to say that it did not take me long at all. It did not even really click that it was a camel until after…and at that point…I didn’t care.

I ran back into the manager’s office, with a huge grin on my face and said, “That was great!...Can I do that whenever I want?” The manager looked at me with the strangest eyes that I’d ever seen and said, “what the hell are you talking about? What happened?” I told him that I grabbed a stool from the side of the barn and placed it behind the tied up camel, I jumped up on the stool, ripped my pants down, lifted the camel’s tail and …you know. The manager, let his head fall into his hands and then, after a few seconds, looked up at me with a shitty grin and said to me, “Holy shit boy! Most of the guys get the camel and ride it into the town about 20 miles east of here!”

That was my last day at that camp…I insisted on being transferred to a completely different region where I finished out my 6 months...from that point on…I decided to wait til I got back to the states to get laid.” I have to say that I really hope that this story was not true…I never brought it up with him again, but these days I’m thinking that he’s not as smart as I used to think he was.

Feet, Baby Birds and Briefs

Per the request of @Sweet_Life at The Sweet Life, this post will be an overview of my thoughts on a few random subjects that she threw out to me. The subjects that I’ve been asked to elaborate on are; Stinky feet. Baby birds learning to fly. Girl Scout cookies. Black socks and sandals. Boxers vs briefs vs boxer briefs.

With my vast knowledge and expertise about pretty much everything, I will try to dumb it up a bit and use laymen’s terms so that you all can follow what I have to say.

Stinky feet – I’ll get straight to the point on this one…I HATE stinky feet! I am an all around kind of anti-foot kind of guy. I don’t like touching feet, don’t like people touching my feet…so a stinky foot, to me is revolting. Shit even writing about it…thinking about some stinky dirty feet is bringing me to the edge of vomiting. NASTY! Don’t get me wrong, I can look at feet (if they are cleaned up and pleasant) but I see no logical reason to touch them.

Baby birds learning to fly – In general, I have no dislike for birds (bats – I HATE) I have always kind of liked birds…excluding; pigeons, crows and vultures. I have, for the most part, been quite intrigued with many birds (Falcons, Eagles, Hummingbirds, Hawks, etc.) I remember as a child, sitting up in our neighborhood trees watching mother birds feed their babies just after hatching. It was even cooler when I got to see mommy nudge them out of the nest for their first ‘attempted’ flight. I was in awe…and yes, I was careful not to get too close or touch the nest. Now we have two birds. I HATE FREAKING BIRDS NOW!!!! They are noisy. They make a mess with their food. There are feathers and bird shit all over the house. As pets, their wings are clipped so that they can’t fly…so they can be poked, prodded, pulled, tweaked, held, squeezed and yes, showered with. I feel bad for these birds…but they have made me not like birds anymore.

Girl Scout cookies – I absolutely love the taste of almost all Girl Scout cookies…BUT…I have come to the conclusion that the whole cookie thing is an illegal scam that will be shut down by the DEA or Homeland Security one day. I am convinced that the cookies have cocaine or some other kind of addicting drug in them…by the frantic nature of how people act as soon as they hear that the cookies are on sale. Beyond that, hordes of 10 to 12 year old girls work the streets, go door to door, standing on street corners to sell their goods. I don’t know what is worse…sending these young girls out onto the streets and teaching them how to swindle people out of money (like national cookie sweat shops) or little girls pushing seemingly drug-laced baked goods in our faces.

Black socks with sandals – Northeastern Europe…AKA German people. I am not a fan of that fashion statement…and really do not understand the point. Maybe they don’t make white socks in Germany…maybe it never gets warm enough to wear sandals on bare feet where they come from. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! It goes into the same book as the men in Speedos at the beach, ‘big’ girls in spandex and belly shirts, black and Mexican men always wearing t-shirts to swim at the beach and people buying and putting clothing on their pets.

Boxers vs. briefs vs. boxer briefs – This one is simple:
Boxers – teenage boys
Briefs – gay men, body builders, cowboys and men who think that they are ‘all that’.
Boxer briefs – normal men who need a bit of support whilst not jamming one’s nuts up into their pelvis.