Miss Prissy Pants
I didn't earn myself a tough camping name like some others did. They weren't all that great anyway......Charlie Farting Horse being the least charming of them all, I don't feel left out.
It's been a long time since I have been camping in the real sense of the word. I can't say that I miss most of it. The hiking, maybe. Exploring, yea. Using an outhouse....NO. Going days without a shower.....NO. I've been single for five years. Not once has it occured to me in that time to haul my girls into the woods to rough it with them. I have taken them camping at KOA campgrounds. Prissy? Maybe, but I was more concerned with safety (ok, ok....and bathroom facilities, but whatever). I learned to appreciate all the ademnities of camping and swimming and even if it isnt roughing it, it's close enough to real camping for me. I don't have to pack the bear spray or a loaded weapon. And I don't have to shit in the woods, wipe with leaves or pee on my shoes.
I went to my boyfriend's family reunion at a campsite literally in the middle of no man's land. I investigated the abandoned cabins and was more than happy to sit next to a campfire and converse and joke with others. I hated the bugs. I hate anything that buzzes by sounding like a small helicopter, or anything that wants to feed on my blood or crawl across me on it's way to somewhere else. But I dealt with it, without squealing much.
I was admittedly upset at the porta-potty. He and I had discussed on our way there the facilities. He assured me that his family would not spend an entire week without showers or bathrooms. I was comforted by that, but he lied. There were shower facilities, but they must have decided to save money and build outhouses instead of flushing toilets. By the way.... when you purchase a porta-potty......how do you decide WHO is responsible for the maintenance? It would not be me. It would be completely disposable and be left in the woods. Maybe bears could learn to use it. No more raw asses from wiping on trees....I could even leave them some wipe.
The boys were more than happy to warn me about the rats in the outhouses as well as offer me the required gas mask to go in there. I passed and I don't regret it. I could live a long time without sharing bathroom horror stories. Particularly the one running through my mind at the time: Woman frightened to death by rats in outhouse, dies with her pants down.
Everyone thought I was such a weenie. I'm ok with that. Earning myself Miss Prissy Pants is not as bad as Charlie Fartin Horse from the No-Wipe Tribe.
Someday I will show them how to camp. Showers, swimming......roughing it Prissy Pants style.
It's been a long time since I have been camping in the real sense of the word. I can't say that I miss most of it. The hiking, maybe. Exploring, yea. Using an outhouse....NO. Going days without a shower.....NO. I've been single for five years. Not once has it occured to me in that time to haul my girls into the woods to rough it with them. I have taken them camping at KOA campgrounds. Prissy? Maybe, but I was more concerned with safety (ok, ok....and bathroom facilities, but whatever). I learned to appreciate all the ademnities of camping and swimming and even if it isnt roughing it, it's close enough to real camping for me. I don't have to pack the bear spray or a loaded weapon. And I don't have to shit in the woods, wipe with leaves or pee on my shoes.
I went to my boyfriend's family reunion at a campsite literally in the middle of no man's land. I investigated the abandoned cabins and was more than happy to sit next to a campfire and converse and joke with others. I hated the bugs. I hate anything that buzzes by sounding like a small helicopter, or anything that wants to feed on my blood or crawl across me on it's way to somewhere else. But I dealt with it, without squealing much.
I was admittedly upset at the porta-potty. He and I had discussed on our way there the facilities. He assured me that his family would not spend an entire week without showers or bathrooms. I was comforted by that, but he lied. There were shower facilities, but they must have decided to save money and build outhouses instead of flushing toilets. By the way.... when you purchase a porta-potty......how do you decide WHO is responsible for the maintenance? It would not be me. It would be completely disposable and be left in the woods. Maybe bears could learn to use it. No more raw asses from wiping on trees....I could even leave them some wipe.
The boys were more than happy to warn me about the rats in the outhouses as well as offer me the required gas mask to go in there. I passed and I don't regret it. I could live a long time without sharing bathroom horror stories. Particularly the one running through my mind at the time: Woman frightened to death by rats in outhouse, dies with her pants down.
Everyone thought I was such a weenie. I'm ok with that. Earning myself Miss Prissy Pants is not as bad as Charlie Fartin Horse from the No-Wipe Tribe.
Someday I will show them how to camp. Showers, swimming......roughing it Prissy Pants style.
posted by Gigglezngrinz at 9:49 AM
3 Comments:
KOA campgrounds rock! Especially the Kottages with indoor plumbing and showers. The Kabins just put a roof over your head. When you have a 15 month old, you don't want to spent the night in a tent! Prissy or not, this is the modern age. Enjoy it!
Bear wipe their asses with rabbits. I thought everyone knew that. If you're worried about peeing on your shoes, just borrow someone else's, DUH!
As a side note, the wife and I have been watching Brat Camp. We call that one kid "Reluctant Trud Emerging"...
*turd, Reluctant Turd Emerging...
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