a little dash of a story for entry #101

watching that camp episode of home movies (on the box set i immediately ran out and bought afte rleaving chris and his ragingly complete collection) i get camp-pains. you know, the pains you get from old football injuries long after they've left. only with camp instead of football games. and feelings instead of kneecaps.

i went to camp once & only once. girlscout camp. alison had bragged and raved about how great it was. that you got to ride burros and hunt for boxed cereal (the little travel boxes you cut autopsy style and pour milk into) and songs that your parents would never teach you...bugspray...watching meatballs and the parent trap when it rains... that kind of crap.

so i caved. i went. and frankly, their idea of fun was not my idea of fun. getting up at 4am to polar bear swim. you know me and sleeping. and you know me when i am cold. oh boy, was i crabby. my idea of fun was sneaking out and catching daddy-longlegs spiders. of course i would name them. you know me and naming things. only i wasn't so hot at it back then and the last one i remember catching was dubbed "star" and i had the brilliant idea i'd hide her safe under my pillow at night and play with her in the morning.

i think we all know how that turned out.

well. anyhow, i was bummed about that. and then my parents came to get me at the end, and told my my guinea pig had given birth to squirmy little furry guinea pig babies. a week ago. i was obviously never going back to camp again. and i never did.

-the end.