Good afternoon or whatever it is wherever it is that you are right now, it's me Hive account@otherbrandt once again with yet another Campsite Cleanup to bore you to tears with, but first of all I was just wondering have you ever seen a sweaty yeti covered in confetti eating spaghetti and cappelletti while quoting Rossetti down by the bay where the watermelons grow? If so, I would recommend visiting a psychologist because that's some real weird shit right there. But let's not let ourselves get too distracted by your oddly rhyming hallucinations and delusions right now because what I'm actually trying to get at here is that recently me and my wickedly wild and highly risk-inclined pirate ship of a Subaru, Yolo McFukitol, came crazily drifting barely in control of the situation screaming and smoking like an RV rolling down the highway on fire right directly into the Sandy Sanders Wildlife Management Area just outside of Erick, Oklahoma. Once the dust settled and the buzzards started circling to clean up after us we off-loaded the barrel of white dog we'd stolen in Albuquerque that morning and got ourselves good and whiskey-lit while digging a ditch around the perimeter and throwing up a quick little palisade of sharpened sticks to prepare for the inevitable raid by a gang of dangerous and very angry New Mexican distillers. Since they were all probably trotting along after us on horseback we figured we had plenty of free time to kill waiting for battle so we got down and dirty with doing the thing that we're pretty close to halfway decent at doing: