Classy Lee How to be classy and stay classy

6Aug/10Off

Class Up Sharing

Safety should always be job one no matter what the situation. Unfortunately, one is not necessarily always prepared with the needed equipment. Should you find yourself in a hospitable environment, others may be willing to loan you the tools or gear that you need. Should you find yourself in a Classy environment, others may put their own personal touches on said equipment.

For example: Let's say you find yourself on a construction site. Let's say this particular site has colleagues working overhead and a hard hat is a must. Let's say your dumb-ass left yours at home. What do you do? Home is an hour away. Can't make the drive just for that. But, you have work to do. Quite the little quizibuck you have created. Thankfully, you can always count on the kindness of others. Even more so, you can count on the Classiness of others. Below you will find a picture of the inside of a borrowed hard hat. The owner I can only assume suffers from the illiteracy problem that plagues our great nation. And, he/she has never completed a preschool or kindergarten program given the lack of stickers, finger-paints, or any other form of marking to allow others to know the true owner of said chapeau. However, our hero has clearly been to at least one seminar or blog that details 'How to Stay Classy'. This is evident by the short curly object clinging to the inside that to my personal dismay appears to be a pubic hair. There will never be enough shampoo...

28Jun/10Off

Redneck Camping Trip Part 2

I woke up on the first morning to the sounds and exhaust smells of golf carts while sweating bullets in a tent nearing the 90 degree mark. Our one tree was not big enough to provide shade so I had direct sunlight on the tent from the moment the sun raised above the double-wide manufactured home on the horizon. I walked over to the restrooms which were conveniently located next to our campsite in order to take care of business when I realized that I could have been more sanitary by just pissing in my tent. This old wooden dilapidation of a restroom smelled worse than some of the outhouses I have used while backpacking in parks in the middle of nowhere. The urinal was clogged and filled to the brim, probably because someone took a shit in there. Flies were everywhere having a field day. I loathed the thought of having to use these facilities for other types of business, since the stalls probably carried diseases that would even make Classy Lee sick. I was awake before everyone else this morning, so I sat around the campfire quietly and listened to the sounds of nature the expressway. The drunk guy in the trailer next to us woke up early to go to the party store to get his case of Natural Light. He would continue to do this every morning that we were there. He also wore the same clothes. We did not hear a peep from him the entire weekend, probably because he was blackout-drunk.

I took a walk around the campground to see what the rest of the place looked like, and I was shocked to see that we actually had a good campsite compared to others. The rest of the campsites were full of abandoned trailers, some with broken windows that looked to have been the result of gunfire. The electrical system that provided power to the trailers was quite elaborate. The center of the power grid contained an old slanting wooden pole with high voltage wires tangled up in knots. It was OK though, because hanging branches from dying trees were keeping the wires taught throughout the campground. The showers looked like they have not been cleaned in years, and the water smelled like rotten eggs. I took a shower in that place once the evening rolled around and ended up smelling worse. I had no choice however since it was extremely hot and humid the entire weekend, and there was no way I was going to go in the nearby man-made pond. I would have rather swam in the Detroit River than went in to that pond.

Once nighttime rolled around all of the rednecks came out of the woodwork and decided that our campsite was the place to hangout even though they were not invited. Even past midnight there were young kids still awake trying to get in on the drinking games that were being played, while boasting about how much their older family members can drink. Those kids have great role models, and I am sure they are going to grow up to be model citizens. I kept my senses on full alert for anyone trying to start shit with us or steal anything, not because I have a hard time trusting drunk strangers, but because I have a hard time trusting drunk strangers.

The rest of the weekend was more of the same. One morning we all woke up to a nice smelly treat, as the toilets from the bathroom were overflowing and flooding the road that was next to our campsite. Yes, shit-smelling gray water was pooling up very close to our tents. We were lucky that our campsite was slightly uphill, or we would have woken up in a pool of shit-water. The drunk owner eventually came by and fixed it with a coat hanger. He looked a little pissed off, probably because his drinking time was interrupted. On our last day there we ended up starting a game of volleyball to get a little exercise. The camp's volleyball court had a busted net and tall sharp grass, but we made it work. Some of the locals came by to join in on the game. There was one lady that joined us who looked to have had too many Bud Lights and sunburns in her day. Her little dog was following her around, and when it walked on to the court as we were playing, she picked it up and threw it about six feet. All of us wanted to do very horrible and well-justified things to her in retaliation, but we kept our cool. Those rednecks probably had shotguns. I also think that some of those people were skinheads, which made a certain camper quite nervous given his ethnicity. The old guy with the moonshine was very cool however.

Overall, it looked like the campground was built in the 1970's and then left alone to rot. The owner has obviously no reason to keep the place up since only the locals hang out there. He's also probably too drunk all day to realize that his campground is a cesspool. At this point I am really sick of writing about this camping experience because it makes me sick just thinking about it. I will never camp in Ohio ever again.

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21Jun/10Off

Redneck Camping Trip Part 1

My Classy friends and I decided to spend this year's national holiday camping in the most boring state in the Union - Ohio. Americans typically spend Memorial Day weekend forgetting what the purpose of Memorial Day weekend is, drinking and eating to one's heart's content, and not getting Deliverance'd by local rednecks and skinheads. The latter usually makes or breaks one's weekend and we were lucky enough to almost experience this. We arrived to the campground fairly late in the evening due to some delays in our trip, but the camp manager was kind enough to keep his office open and wait for us. It turned out his office was actually an old shack that resembled a general store from the 50's, and the nice camp manager was actually a geriatric drunk who looked like a McCain voter and was probably packing a shotgun behind the counter. After we paid up for our campsites for the weekend the manager told us he would escort us to our campsite. We had to follow him in our cars as he went 5 MPH through the campground on his golf cart. He found us a nice set of campsites that would suit us well for the weekend. It included a large field, a small tree (for shade of course), the sounds of the nearby freeway, and all of the 2-stroke golf cart motor exhaust we could handle. As an added bonus, we got put next to a trailer circa 1970's that was occupied by some drunk. The drunks (see a pattern developing?) that rode around on golf carts all over the place made us really strategize where we wanted to keep our tents in case of a highly-likely drunk golf cart driving accident in our campsites. I found a good spot behind the water spigot. In case someone was driving toward my tent they would at least make a watery mess before running me over in my sleep. We went back to the office after setting up camp to get some firewood. The old guy running camp gave us some at a rather reasonable price (Ohio exchange rate - they still use Confederate money right?). He determined how much wood one needed by very slowly stacking each piece of wood in to one's arms while rambling on about nonsense (probably hating on minorities) as one's arms start shaking and discs start herniating from the weight. Now we just had to figure out how to dry the wood since it was dripping wet. If we wanted ice for our coolers we would have to buy frozen milk jugs of water and break it up ourselves. We opted for going in to town and buying ice not made from pond water.

The first night was quite interesting. After we setup camp all of the rednecks from nearby sites started congregating  to our site within seconds after we cracked open the first beer. I felt a little pretentious drinking Stella Artois (in a glass bottle no less) as everyone else drank their Natural Light and Milwaukee's Beast (recession). It turns out many of these people actually lived in town and have been coming to this campground each weekend for years. There is the first red flag of this trip. I was starting to realize that this was not a typical campground. People bring their trailers in to live there, not visit. This was a local's hangout. We were the out-of-state visitors from the North with good beer and clean clothes. I was starting to get a funny feeling about these people. The next day would paint a larger picture of what the rest of the weekend was going to be like.

Stay tuned for part two.

12Feb/10Off

Classy Ice Scraper

The work day is over and a snowstorm had begun in the Detroit area. Two of my classy co-workers leave the office at the same time and head outside to scrape the snow and ice off of their cars. Co-worker A finished scraping off about half of his windshield, when lo and behold co-worker B realizes he does not have an ice-scraper. He comes over to co-worker A and borrows his ice-scraper. Mind you, co-worker A's car still only has half of a windshield cleared. Co-worker B, on a Muscle Milk and Potbelly's induced rage, absolutely shatters the borrowed ice-scraper against his own windshield, thinking that intimidating the snow and ice with brute force and threatening grunts would somehow make the removal of said snow and ice more efficient. With complete disregard to co-worker A's sudden quandary, co-worker B hands back the small plastic tip of the ice-scraper that survived, gets in his car with severely limited visibility*, drives by and gives the finger to co-worker A, and heads home. Co-worker A is left with a broken ice-scraper, a car covered in snow and ice, and very little dignity to spare.

*Driving with 6 inches of snow on your roof and hood with only a small hole of cleared ice on your windshield is not a classy way to drive home.

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19Aug/09Off

Class Up Your Neighborhood

Often a new neighbor will move into your area. It is always nice to be cordial and welcome said newcomer to the area. The Classiest way to do this is to involve all members of your family.

Perhaps you live alone. Not a problem. Got a dog? Perfect! Your new friends will most assuredly want to meet him/her as well as yourself.

It is best to not be too pushy. Perhaps you take the dog for a casual walk and you bump into your new neighbor.

Didn't see em, eh? Well, perhaps milling around the front walk of their residence will help. They may see you through the window and come out to greet you.

Still nothing? Hmm. Perhaps a welcome gift is in order. Have your dog do his business in the middle of the walk. It costs nothing, and it will let your new pals know that they have officially relocated to Classytown.

Nothing says "Welcome neighborinos!" better than a steaming pile of fresh shit on the walkway.

Poo1

PS.

If my neighbors are reading this, thanks a lot you arrogant bastards. I will most likely reciprocate the gesture. However, since I don’t have a dog, I will have to step up to the plate myself. And since you live above me and have no lawn, I will be reduced to taking my walk by way of your mailbox. I’ll be sure to put the flag up.

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