Yeah, I do not love camping. I just…I don’t like dirt.
Or “roughing it” even in the relatively benign version of such as is offered by the Kink Camps that happen here and there across the USA.
And I have, for various reasons, gone against my better judgement several times and attended them.
Once, I had a violent asthma attack and resulting horrible sinusitis because of a bale of hay.
Fuck those fucking things.
Then I was molested by a swarm of stinkbugs and red ghotdamned centipedes, and had ANOTHER bad case of sinusitis because of black mold.
Fuck them bastards and that bullshit.
Third time’s a charm and how charming is it to never be able to sleep because of drunk-ass screaming people a few hundred yards from your cabin who were hollering ripped and plastered by noon and stayed that way until about 4 AM.
Motherfuck all those fuckers.
SO yeah, I was not gonna be doing it. Ever. Again.
And then of course Der Spousemeister is lured by our “friend” Barbara (baleful side-eye) into considering going to Camp Crucible. Since he is the boss, guess where we’ll be from May 28th – June 4th?
(Yes, the camp runs a bit longer than that on either side but we have to be in and get back to Europe during this time period, so we have to arrive a day late and leave a couple days early.
And I am not sad.)
Anyway, if you’d like to come and enjoy my suffering and glowering while occasionally dressing up like a pony, or watch one of the world’s preeminent living contemporary composers running around nekkid as the day he was born, ogling everyone and loving life, you should come join us!
Or, if, you know, an amazing camping experience with wonderful, welcoming folks and a unique opportunity for extended community bonding and playing and rutting like stoats in the woods is your thing.