Day 1
Today's forecast calls for a five-percent of Lobster-Charlie, but a fifty-percent chance of Beater-Jury. Damn you portages and damn you Matty D and your heavy-ass canoe. A failed hunt for an island site, but goodbye ghetto-camping and hello whiskamping and four-star poshness. Fishing for six-ounce Crappies. Hobo Stew + illegal fire + hot dogs = tummy delight. Late night S'mores + cigars = bliss.

Day 2
Jury, bandaids, pronto! Little Prince island yeilds no fish. Swiss army knife yields a scar. Why would we move anywhere? The stars are bright and shooting, the satelites are brighter and also shooting, and that flashing color thing may or may not be a planet. Friendship histories and the hook-up chain. AK's pessimism, CD's mysterious hotness, and Ilana's elf-shape.

Day 3
The size of the universe, Ilana's heterosexuality and other age-old puzzles. Yeah ghetto portage! Boo mud up to Jury's knees. Still no fish despite our island campsite, but we did catch a bigger leech at least. A moose battling a bear at the bottom of the lake. Eating a bald eagle.

Day 4
Conquered Lakes 1-4... that's about enough. Whiskey and sex positions (not with each other - don't worry). Here's to overcoming frustrations, lost Navy Seals, beans and soup, and echoeing SCROTUM! Trollmate.

Day 5
First you anally rape them, then you kill the fuck out of them (while they're still alive), then you eat the shit out them and shit the fuck out of them, then wipe, then light the shit on fire, then piss it out, then spit on it and shoot the shit with the gun. Then you deny they ever existed. Echoeing burps.

Day 6
We're dirty and shoulders are tired, but it's a beautiful day, as always. Time to get out of here. No TBell, but a damn good Jury cabin meals will suffice. Here's to the next night.