Number 2

     So the march down the hill has begun and I need to use the washroom. So I quicken my pace and almost begin my second roll down the hill. It's hopeless, I accept the fact that I'm not going to make it to a washroom and I veer off into a forest area leaving my stuff with a kewl Aussie dude named Angus. As I scramble through the trees to find cover
and a suitable spot, I manage walk right through a huge mud patch almost losing one shoe... So I find a decent spot and drop trow against a tree. My business is done and I need some of nature's toilet paper. Here is where the problem starts; all the leaves around me are prickly and left a stinging sensation with my hands. So with leaves no longer an option I must sacrifice the boxers (and those of you following my blogs are probably already giggling knowing where this is going). Sad to see them go but desperate times call for desperate measures. The collateral damage has been done and I pull up the pants, trudge my way back to the hill and continue my decent. When a light breeze passes through my pants I'm reminded of the massive rip in the crotch area my jeans suffered tumbling down the hill. But with my problem solving skills at a drunk high today I manage to make it home with no one the wiser. All it took was a strategically placed T-shirt tucked into my belt, walking a certain way and playing the right angles.