Many people throughout the world fight a daily struggle to obtain clean drinking water. It’s literally the most important liquid on earth, the life force for anything that requires oxygen to live (cue getting an email from some nerd letting me know about a dry land crab that only requires the sun to live). Where I live, we are fortunate enough to have fucking taps that spit out the most delicious drinking water you could imagine. Especially now, as winter approaches, the pipes are cold and that water comes out like chilled spring water direct form a glacier. So you can imagine my horror at the resurgence of Gatorade as many people’s go-to hydration tool when not actually doing any physical activity. Don’t even get me started on their “Is it in you?” slogan. It just makes them sound like some dude with a micro penis and low self-esteem. Continue Reading→
Usually when people open their mouths, annoying words come out of them. But on occasion, the words are replaced with obnoxious air in the form of a yawn. Yawning is a biological necessity, I get that. It’s the brain needing more oxygen or something (I was too lazy to Google the specifics), it doesn’t actually mean you’re tired. Regardless, it’s something we all do throughout the day. Just some of us do it with more gumption and general douchebaggery than others. Some people want the world to know that they’re yawning, and have developed a go-to style or sound to accompany the passage of air to the brain. These people are terribly annoying. Continue Reading→
Many apps and social platforms currently exist that allow you to share all the pictures that chronicle how happy you supposedly are and how good you look in a 2×2 pic with a black and white filter and soft lighting. Those apps exist specifically so you don’t have to subject every single person you know with pictures that most of us couldn’t really give a shit about. For those that want to creep on the mundane moments of your life, the platforms exist for them to do so. And for those of us who could care less about your seventh trip to a Mexican resort, we can choose to ignore or unfollow you. Oh man, where did you come up with the idea to take a point of view picture of just your legs while lying on a beach? Almost as bad as that stupid heart-shaped hand thing people do around sunsets.
People’s vacation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures, you know, the full spectrum of what people choose to point and click cameras (phones) at, are pretty much all the same, just with different faces. I don’t even look back over my own pictures, so why on earth would I do it for other people? People who are just trying to convince the world that their love, work and family life are literally picturesque, even when their partner is a cheater; they’ve been in the same dead-end job for years; and their parents are a bunch of filthy racists. Continue Reading→
Hello world, we’re back after a brief interlude (I blame laziness and a lack of financial motivation). To kick things off this week, we have a great question from our Fail Bag. If you have something awful you’ve witnessed and want it addressed in the safe and warm confines of Society Camp, email us at email@example.com. The next person to have their question posted will win a $10 dollar gift card to The Shopping Channel, our unofficial sponsors (i.e., I got it in the mail as a promotion). Now on to today’s question.
Norm from Paris, France
Hello from Paris! First off, we’re huge fans of Society Camp here, thanks to our affinity for cynicism and unfiltered Gauloises, which remind us of your unfiltered views of the world that burn with rage like embers (editor’s note: this motherfucker is gonna make me cry, that was beautiful). I own a small shop and often get clients who come to the cash wearing their stupid headphones or the little balls in their ears, and I’m forced to either speak above them or repeat the same sentence three times. To make matters worse, the ones that have their music on so loud that they simply can’t hear anything you’re saying, do that thing where they roll their eyes and take off the headphones as though you’re inconveniencing their quiet time with Taylor Swift. I’ve debated enforcing a no headphones policy in my shop, what do you think?
Thanks for the kind words, Norm. I always just assumed people from France were assholes, and not because of the stereotype that you’re all assholes, more so based on the stereotype that you all think Jerry Lewis is a comedic god. That is fucked up. Like serial killer level fucked up. Next you’ll be telling me that French youth are into Dane Cook, at which point, your future is beyond doomed. Continue Reading→
Humans are filled with disgusting fluids, it’s just a scientific fact that we can’t escape. Over the years, we have found various ways to rid ourselves of these unwanted fluids in discrete ways. Gone are the days of throwing chamber pots out the window and onto busy streets. No longer do we frequent dusty saloons riddled with overflowing spittoons. Yet still, some people find it necessary, in our modern times, to fucking hork and then spit on the sidewalk. The word hork, by no accident, is meant to illicit disgustingness. It’s almost as bad as the words moist and quiche. Don’t get me wrong, I love quiche, but it’s a very sexual word, and no one wants to hear their mom ask if they want to taste their juicy quiche. Freud may disagree with me on that one. Continue Reading→
Welcome back to another installment of Fail Bag, where our readers send in what societal atrocities they think are Society Camp worthy. For those of you who haven’t seen your questions up yet, in time. We get literally thousands of letters a day, but most of them are takeout flyers.
Addison from Cranberry Township, Pennsylvania
Hi Society Camp. I’ve just returned home from a dinner with some friends (I only really like this one couple, the other couple are friends through friends, and they just talk about their kids’ soccer activities, which is about as enjoyable as a round of syphilis). After painfully making it through the night at some overpriced restaurant that thinks it’s legit because it has vintage Edison bulbs dangling throughout and reclaimed wood tables, we were finally free. All three couples made their way outside for the final goodbye on the sidewalk. You know the one, where it takes some ten minutes for everyone to finally leave. Is it just me, or are these goodbyes painful? I’ve just spent the entire night talking to these people, do I really need to spend another ten minutes standing on a sidewalk, summarizing how much fun we had and that we should definitely do it again sometime soon? Just walk out the door and say bye and be done with it, right? Also, people take too long saying goodbye on the phone. I can’t be the only one that hates a long goodbye?
Thanks for writing in, Addison. Is Addison your real name? No offense, but it’s awful. You sound like a calculator from the 80s, when calculators were the iPhone of their time. “Oh nice bro, you got yourself an Addison. Quadratic equations for liiiiife!” But I shouldn’t blame you, more so your parents that were probably naming you after some great aunt that everyone in the family thought was a real salty broad (which by the way, is the name of our Society Camp boat). Continue Reading→
People’s voices are, for the most part, really annoying. Even people you like, over time, just get to you. The way they say things, their syntax and expressions, just the whole kit and caboodle (that term is heavily underutilized) will likely drive you nuts over time. That’s why we, as people, need some moments of silence, or you know, a couple hours of Homeland, in order to disconnect and forget that human interactions form the basis of our mundane lives.
Those voices, the oral window into the rotten souls of our fellow man, are made all the more insufferable when talking on their cell phones. They become louder, thinking that it’s still 2001 when talking on the phone was about as clear as a CB radio from space, and also, hearing just one side of a conversation is just aggravating. Continue Reading→
Just like Fight Club, the first rule of fantasy sports should be you don’t talk about fantasy sports. I view fantasy sports like I view religion, in that everyone is entitled to practice whatever they’d like, but I don’t want to hear about it and will ruthlessly mock you if you try and convince me that Jonah did in fact survive three days in the belly of whale or that Tim Tebow is an NFL caliber quarterback.
Fantasy season is in full swing now, thanks to its main squeeze football. Surely you’ve overheard, or god forbid, have directly been involved in a discussion with someone going on about their fantasy football team(s). For some people, fantasy season is literally the most compelling and stressful time in their lives. What with deciding between who to start, and the crisis management that goes into dealing with an injured player. It’s time consuming and will turn all your loved ones against you. Even your fantasy friends, who you start the season with on good terms, will become your enemies because of their dirty tricks and petty complaints on the comment boards. Trust me when I tell you that a waiver wire argument can get more heated than divorce proceedings. Continue Reading→
I like my job, in that it gives me money to live and play with. But other than that, it’s really no more than a soul crushing environment filled with strangers who you’re forced to spend more time with than your own family or friends (who are bad enough as it stands).
To make matters worse, these people, if you can call them that (more like animals devoid of humour, compassion and intelligence), ensure that you dislike them even more by committing the various cardinal sins of the workplace. And the worst part is that you can never lash out or call them on it (other than anonymous, passive aggressive Post-it notes, which have probably averted countless workplace tragedies). You have to sit there and take it, as the last thing you want is having to spend even a single minute with an HR person, because they are literally the worst people on earth, similar to lawyers but without the smarts and penchant for blow. Continue Reading→
I am a lover of music. I listen, I watch, I even buy vinyl, because it’s more pretentious than CDs. I support artists, I encourage creation. But some guy that knows two Neil Young songs and lays one down twice a year with an acoustic guitar at the cottage is not fucking music, it’s noise.