Okay, so this weekend was pretty darn eventful!

Remember the shock collars from last week?  Yep, same players, once again participants in the latest, and so far most ridiculous, weekend event..


So, my husband and his buddies are gun fanatics.  Not to be confused with gun wielding fanatics.  Okay so there might be one exception to that, who shall remain nameless... for now. 

We had a nice day in the city planned for Sunday.  You know, just me and the hubs, hanging out and spending some time together.  As we are getting ready to leave, one of my husband's buddies calls and wants to go to the shooting range.  As there is absolutely no point in trying to redirect my husband's attention to our original plans, I just went along with it.  It's much easier that way.  Plus I kind of like shooting guns myself so why not?  And out of the RV marches my husband carrying more weapons than probably most men going into combat.  Me, "Is it necessary to take every gun you've got?"  Hubs, "Well yeah, duh."  And to the gun range we go.

My husband's buddies meet us there and after everybody unloads all of their guns and ammo we pretty much have an arsenal at this point. AK's, shotguns, handguns, rifles, you name it.  Everybody is taking turns shooting this gun and that gun and discussing what they like best about each one, blah, blah, blah...  At this point we're just going to refer to these four guys as Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, Mr. Orange and Mr. Dumbass.  Personalities fit.  Thank you Reservoir Dogs.  Love that movie!  Mr. Dumbass is a, let's say, experienced marksman.

Mr. Blonde, Mr. Orange and Mr. Dumbass are taking turns shooting at a 200 yard target.  Quite frankly I was talking with Mr. Pink at the time so I can't even tell you what they were shooting with or at.  Mr. Dumbass was in the process of shooting when there was some conversation going on about not being able to see if he was hitting his target, even with his binoculars, which suddenly caught Mr. Pink's attention since he apparently has super human eyesight.  Thank God. As Mr. Pink is scanning the 200 yard target for bullet holes, he calmly says, "Hey, is that smoke?" 

First of all I really wasn't paying attention to what was going on.  I think I was texting or facebooking or something.  I heard him say it, I just didn't really pay much attention... that is until Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, Mr. Orange and Mr. Dumbass literally throw down their guns and bail in my Jeep.  As Mr. Blonde (aka the hubs) drives past me in the Jeep he throws his cell phone at me and hollers, "Call 911!"  I just looked at him like, really?  He just got that phone last week!  He's damn lucky I caught it.  Drama queen.

After standing there for a couple of minutes watching the four of them, debating about whether I should really call 911, they suddenly pull the target board out of the ground.  Now mind you, near as I can tell this is like a 4x8 sheet of plywood, I'm guessing pretty thick plywood, and it's attached to posts that one would presume are stuck in the ground fairly well to keep it upright.  They pulled the entire thing, posts and all, out of the ground and are flopping it around.  At that point I'm thinking, what are those damn fools doing out there???   Oooooooh, I probably should call 911... 

911: "911 state your emergency."
KMAC: "We started a fire at the P*** M******** shooting range.
911:  "Can I have your name?"
KMAC:  "Uhhhhhh... KMAC."
911:  "What's your emergency?"
KMAC: "Huh?  We started a fire at the P*** M******** shooting range."
911: "The what?"
KMAC:  "The P*** M******** shooting range."
911:  "What's the address?"
KMAC:  "Address?  I don't know the friggin address!  We're at the bleep bleep bleep shooting range!"
911:  "Ok.  A fire at the P*** M******** shooting range."
KMAC: "Yes, and from the looks of things these guys aren't going to be able to put it out by themselves!"
911:  "Ok."
CLICK

Really?  911 just hangs up on people?  No confirmation number, no instructions, no thanks for calling goodbye?  Apparently not.

After the fire spread and got totally out of control, Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, Mr. Orange and Mr. Dumbass drove back up the range to where I was standing.  I relayed the 911 call to them and suggested it might be more effective if one of us drove down to the fire department, two blocks away, and let them know there's a fire.  No vote of confidence for the 911 dispatcher at this point in the game.  So Mr. Orange drives down to the fire department to make the announcement.  Fortunately, they had just received the call and were ready to roll.  Unfortunately, it's a volunteer fire department, meaning they don't have much equipment or many volunteers.  Out of the five volunteer firefighters they have, four of them were drunk.  Oh yes, as skunks!  We just stood there shaking our heads, looking at one another with the Scooby Doo, eerrrrhhh? 

As we're sitting there watching three small firetrucks, four drunken firefighters and one sober firefighter attempt to get a wildly out of control grass fire under control, Mr. Dumbass's wife just happened to drive by on her way back from the laundromat and strangely enough noticed the raging fire.  Probably didn't help that we had an audience parked on the highway either.  If I only had a picture of her face when she got out of the car.  Her first words were, "Do I even want to know?"  Which drew a unanimous NO!  Then she said, "Who started it?  Wait, let me guess, Mr. Dumbass."  To which we all just shook our heads yes.  Had to throw somebody under the bus, we ain't all going down for this one!

Then the fire chief shows up.  He informed us straight away upon his arrival, and I quote, "We like to drink beer, not put out fires." No shit.  Who would've guessed?  We hung around for a couple of hours, just in case anybody wanted to talk to us, you know, get our names, info, how the fire started, anything like that.  The fire chief finally came back up to where we were standing and the hubs walks over to his pickup and asks him if we needed to stick around or anything.  The fire chief says, and again I quote, "Nope, shit happens," and drove off.  From what we hear they got the fire put out around 11:00 that night.  I bet it was a long day for those boys.

The next day Mr. Dumbass delivered two cases of beer to the fire station as an apology and a thank you.  But I bet he lost his membership to the shooting club...

Later that evening we decided to have a cookout.  Ironic, I know.

Things we've learned this week that once again have nothing to do with living in an RV park:
1.  No matter how humid the climate is, dry grass can still catch fire.
2.  When your husband tells you to call 911, you should probably do it, immediately..
3.  Always carry a fire extinguisher to the shooting range.  A shovel would probably be handy too.
4.  Support your local volunteer fire department.  They need all the help they can get!
5.  If you are a volunteer fire fighter, you probably shouldn't drink if you are on call.  Just sayin.

Wow, really late posting anything this week.  Busy, busy, busy...not.  So, more doggy drama...  Upon answering a knock at the door last week, I find a very small woman, about 5', standing there scratching Larry on the head.  The first words out of her mouth were, "These dogs are supposed to be on a leash."  Curious way of starting a conversation I thought.  And I must say, I didn't really appreciate the attitude in which she said it with.  So I stepped out of the rv and replied, "They are on wireless shock collars.  The owner told me that was fine."  The only thing she said was, "Well how are we supposed to know that?"  To which I replied, "Well ya know now, don't ya?"  Then she proceeded to tell me how Larry came charging at her across the yard barking viciously and that she was so frightened she just froze. And I'm thinking...  Really?  You were that frightened?  Then what in the hell possessed you to walk through the yard and knock on the door?  However, instead of saying it out loud I simply said, "Really?  You don't look that frightened." (As I look down at her hand, still scratching Larry's head...)  She didn't really care for my answer or the attitude in which I said it with either.  Now we're even.  Before the cat fight broke out I think she realized that she was out numbered, after all she was standing inside the safe zone...  That's when she finally introduced herself... as the park manager's wife.  Huh, and here I thought she was just one of the bitchy neighbors.  Go figure.  Yeah, we'll probably be moving soon.
 
Anyhoo... I've made some modifications since then to try to diminish the dogs bothering the neighbors.  For starters, duct taping one of those awesome silver windshield shades to the inside of the rv's windshield, which completely blocks the dog's view therefore, they don't surprise the passers by with their barking.  People don't typically look up for dogs when they're walking.  Oh, and did I mention how cool it looks too?  Yeah, high class.  We're more apt to fit in now.  We adjusted their invisible fence so now Larry can't sneak around the corner and surprise anybody without getting zapped.  Also, when we leave the dogs inside now I make sure that I leave Pandora on the Tom Petty station, just loud enough to drown out most outside noise so the dogs don't bark. That's working out pretty well so far.  I had no idea it would be so involved having three dogs in an rv.  I'm starting to feel like I'm on an episode of MacGyver.

What an exciting week we had around here.  Well at least one night was pretty exciting.  Some of the night shift got rained out last week so the party was on!  The local bar ran out of Jack, yes, that's correct, so we moved the party to the rv.  Not such a good idea.  Imagine if you will, half a dozen fairly drunken men, who have been working 80 hours a week for months with a lot of pent up testosterone, in possession of shock collars.  Oh yes, we have video.  This is one of those rare times when I will go with my better judgement so no, I am not going to post it.  I vaguely remember something in the directions about the possibility of facing prosecution for misusing the device.  That same night some of the other guys at the bar decided that it would be a great idea to chase the local deer.  In their pickup.  The sheriff's department didn't find that humorous at all.  They were in even worse humor when they caught the two of them... after a foot chase.  Ayyyyyeeeee.... Luckily for them someone was available to bail them out of jail the next morning.  I'm glad those idiots didn't wind up here.  We had a surplus of them running around already. 

Things we've learned this week that really have nothing to do with living in an rv park:
1.  Dogs love Tom Petty.  His voice is very soothing to them.
2.  Always make introductions at the beginning of any conversation so you know who's ass you are about to kick.  You might possibly change your mind.
3.  Don't drink and drive.  Don't drink and chase deer.  Don't drink and run from the police.  Don't drink and put a shock collar around your buddy's neck, or on his testicles, or on his ass, or anywhere else for that matter.

First, the doggy update - Jack, Larry and Katy learned their new boundaries very quickly and are doing extremely well with their "invisible" fence!  Unfortunately it took us about three days to get Katy out of the RV without dragging or carrying her, but she's figured it out that she is allowed outside, in certain areas.  They have also learned that the bathroom and the bedroom are out of their safe zone, which is quite convenient for me.  No more dog piles in the bed after the hubs leaves for work in the morning!  Yay for me!

So now that we have spent $600 and have the dogs contained in about a 20' x 30' area outside, the park manager informed me that the dogs "being outside are intimidating the people using the laundry", which is the yard, and another RV space and it's yard, away from us.  Granted, they are fairly large dogs, and Larry may look a little demonic with that one white eye, but really they're quite friendly, unless they sense you're an asshole and then they're really not.  I was also informed that "they were raising a lot of hell", while my husband and I were out having dinner one evening last week, "and disturbed the neighbors across the road who were trying to have a party"... Oookaaaay?  At that point I wondered to myself if anyone had thought that maybe the neighbor's "party" disturbed our dogs and just possibly might be what set them off to "raising hell"?  Hmmm....  On a happier note, the dogs no longer attempt to herd the little deer that roam freely about, or chase the cats that sit just outside of that invisible line and taunt them, they just sit, and watch, and wait...  One of these days I think I'll take their collars off and turn them loose just for fun.  Shake things up a bit.  No sense in the taunters getting too comfortable.  Heh heh heh...

Oooooh, and here's an interesting little story.  Poop fairies.  You don't really pay attention to how much your dogs poop unless you're forced to pick up after them.  Every morning the dogs go outside and do their business and usually I pick up after them right away.  I've got this handy dandy pooper scooper thing that makes it pretty darn easy.  The other day however, I had my morning coffee then came inside, showered and got dressed.  By the time I got back outside the dog poop had miraculously disappeared!  That evening I complained to my husband that we either have a "poop fairy" or some nosy neighbor is cleaning up dog poop from our yard, which offended me by gosh.  He just laughed and brushed it off.  I however, having nothing better to do with my time, decided to investigate.  The following day I intentionally left the dogs outside so if the "poop fairy" was in fact one of our neighbors I would be alerted by barking.  Nope.  Didn't happen, but again the poop was gone!  Later that evening we decided to grill outside.  As we are enjoying our meal at the picnic table I notice a piece of dog poop seemingly floating across the grass.  What the heck?!?!  Beetles.  Dung beetles to be exact.  Which happen to live on every continent except Antarctica.  Thank you Wikipedia.   I cannot imagine where they are taking all that poop to.  Nor do I want to.  So much for my "poop fairies".

Speaking of which, does anyone know where I can purchase single-ply toilet paper?  Do they even make that stuff anymore?  Apparently you cannot use regular toilet paper in an RV.  Who knew?  As I'm outside questioning my husband about whether he has the appropriate valves and such open for the sewer outlet, he whips around and in a not very nice tone states loudly that the problem is that "you use too much toilet paper."  Hello!  I don't pee standing up either you knuckle dragger!  To which he responded, "call your father!"  Oh boy.  But, as any good father would, he immediately blamed it on my husband not having the appropriate valves open or he broke something, etc.  It wasn't until my dad repeated every question I had asked previously that my husband took the phone away from me and explained to him just "how much toilet paper" I use.  Somehow they fell into agreement with one another on the subject and I had to listen to both of them berate me about my extensive use of toilet paper.  [sigh]  We now have a different system.

Things we've learned this week about living in an RV, and a RV park:
1.  "Poop fairies" don't exist.  Dung beetles do.
2.  Single-ply toilet paper.  Very important.