Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Camping. And why I would rather swallow a beehive whole than do it.

I don't do camping. I like things. Things like toilets that flush & refrigerators that keep your food/wine cold. I am also fond of TV. Not even the allure of the beautiful native bush excites me in the slightest. Cos I don't really give a fuck about trees. And I am a modern woman that feels safer when surrounded by her modern day appliances.

When I was a pre-teen, I was a girl guide. It was non negotiable as my mum was a girl guide leader.

We did a shit load of camping. And I hated it. Sharing a tent with 6 other bitches & a fuck tonne of blood sucking mosquito's whilst sleeping on a yoga mat was not a fun time for me. Nor did I become overwhelmed with glee when being forced to eat freshly cooked campfire food. Everything tasted like it had smoked a cigarette.

I will never forget the very first time I had to take a moonlight shit on a long drop toilet. For those that do not know what a long drop toilet is, it's a toilet that has a large hole dug under the toilet seat where all fecal & urine go. It doesn't get flushed away. Instead it sits & ferments. This fermented shit/piss cocktail omits the most rancid stench for miles which in turn attracts bugs, possums, rats & numerous other bush creatures keen for a taste of human excrement soup.

Most long drops are housed within a tin shack. In the height of summer, when the mighty southern hemisphere sun rapes every living thing, the long drop turns into a goddam sauna of death.

Taking in to account that I am afraid of the dark, & all the monsters that lurk within said darkness, I was quite prepared to take one in my pants instead of putting myself in grave danger of having my ass eaten off by a hungry shit eating rat than put my precious backend anywhere near the seat of a long drop toilet.

I loitered outside the camp long drop, deathly afraid, holding my torch like a ninja sword in order to deter all possums from trying to latch their razor claws into my scalp if they felt the need. The girl guide interrogation squad was called in & they spun me every good reason known to man about why the long drop was safe & that there was no way my ass was going to be eaten off by any ferocious animals.

They were right though. We don't have any ferocious man eating animals in NZ. In fact we have nothing even remotely dangerous in the NZ bush that could even harm a small new born baby let alone a 12 year old girl child. The only thing that could hurt me in that long drop toilet was my own mind. And Jason Vorhees scuba diving in the shit pond waiting to slash my anus to shreds with a dirty machete.


I blame Jason Vorhees for all my childhood dark fears. That fucker just would not die.

I have just returned from a few nights away at my sisters holiday home in Okiwi Bay. It's a 1 hour drive from my city & I love it down there.

We drank. We smoked. We listened to music & we talked/laughed the arse of New Years eve 2011.

We watched the entire first season of Teen Mom on MTV when it was raining & we ate everything bad.

We sat around the kitchen table in a kumbayah circle of trust eating Bread Dip. We talked about how fat our bums were while stuffing our gullets full of caramello cadbury chocolate. Irony is fucking delicious.

I bunked with my friend Amber & my 3 year old niece Kaitlyn & I slept the best I had slept in months.

I checked my iPhone incessantly for text messages & email notifications even though I knew I couldn't get any sort of  cellphone range there at all, agreeing wholeheartedly that yes I am a sick modern world obsessed fuck.

I got into the Okiwi Bay footwear trend of socks & jandals/flip flops/slops & I laughed at the smack talk notes people were leaving on the fridge door.

Okiwi Bay Footwear.

Fridge Smack Talk.

I sat in the middle of a bay while the tide was out & watched fireworks.

Waiting for Fireworks display to start.

I didn't watch or read any depressing news of the world. I escaped from my reality.

And I loved every bloody moment of it.

Now I'm back in my real world with my sexy real world husband ready to beat the ass of 2012. We are excited bout the year ahead.

Except tomorrow I have to go back to work.

And just between you & me, I would rather be locked inside a long drop shit house in the middle of summer with a dirty machete wielding Jason Vorhees.

The winners for Decembers giveaway of the 'I hate your face, especially in the morning' knuckleduster coffee mugs are....................


Ladies please flick me an email to bexstard@yahoo.co.nz with your postal addresses & I will get them out to you as soon as possible.

For those of you feeling a bit blue because you didn't win this time, don't be sad, because holy heathen shitflaps I have another two more knuckleduster mugs to give away for the first month of 2012. Join me on my merry crusade to become the toilet queen of the blog world, comment on my posts for the month & you too could be rocking a hot coffee filled face smasher at the breakfast table every morning.

Are you a camping freak? Or a camping phobe like me?

Peace, love & flushing toilets,







P.S Thank god for flushing toilets, cos it seems my bowels were slightly homesick while I was away having relaxation time. But that's a story for another time. Lets just say, me & the toilet down Okiwi Bay spent a lot of time together. Fuck my life.

P.P.S Can someone please have a fancy dress party soon so I can wear this dick & balls costume. Oh I must.

12 comments:

  1. Camping is nature's way of promoting the hotel industry. 'Nuff said.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I don't mind camping- especially if there is an RV with electricity and a feather bed and red dog who would eat anyone who tried to attack me and my man next to me with his giant ..... knife (what did you think I was going to say??). I'm tough like that.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I AM A FREAK!!!! I hate pooping in the woods, but adore the smokey cigerette food. I love sleeping on yoga mats especially next to running water. I must have a tent though. I like to be warm, cold sucks and I will go home early if cold or if I run out of fresh clean water!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Camping blows big hairy ballsacks. I was a girl scout in my youth as well, & I do not have fond memories of said camping adventures. Blech. Roughing it for me is a 3 star hotel. I am just not an outdoorsy girl. The hubs keeps talking about taking the boys camping when they get older, and I'm like "cool, have fun. Mama's going to the spa......". Anyone wanna join me?

    I might have a party just so you can wear that outfit. Will it fit in your luggage, because obviously you will have to jet over to the states to attend. I think it's worth it to wear that costume!

    Oh, and I still want that mug, damnit!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Mrs Social AssassinJanuary 5, 2012 at 7:14 AM

    I'm soooo with you on the whole camping thing....No, no way, never, not even if hell freezes over will you ever get me in a 'T' word (even the word is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat!). If you can't have a hot shower and a flushing loo (that you don't have to share with a billion other germ-ridden dirt bags) and you can't plug in your hair straightners - i'm not going!!!! And the long drop toilet sounds just too hideous for words!! Hope 2012 is a great year for you and Blake, love and hugs xxx

    ReplyDelete
  6. We used to camp every summer as a kid. I hated it then and I hate it now. On a week long camping trip we spent more time putting up and tearing down camp than experiencing the area because my dad couldn't stand to be in one camp spot longer than 1 night.

    He also used to have a "walking stick" that he insisted was given to him by a tribal chief in North Dakota when he was in the army. That stupid fucking stick was a piece of driftwood he sanded to a bone color and burned symbols into. As a kid I was terrified of that goddamned stick convinced that it had magical powers and could strike me dead on the spot. As a teenager I tried as hard as I could to steal and burn the fucker.

    He still has it and my kids are still convinced that it's magical.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I love camping as long as it involves having a boat to go fishing in as well. (thank god we have both the tent and the boat lol) But I must admit, i too am terrified of the dark and long drop trips at night. Something to do with my OLDER sister hiding out and waiting for me to go toilet then banging the shit out of the wall (which was corrugated iron) laughing manically and then running away leaving me no torch. needless to say... my sister is a bitch!

    ReplyDelete
  8. It should be noted that I do not share my wife's fear of camping - I was camping from the age of 3, and its THE ONLY way to fully enjoy the atmosphere of music festivals, of which I am the veteran of many. That said, my ex-SAS kit bag I use is mahoosive enough to fit my tent, an inflatable double matress, inflatable pillow, arctic sleeping bag and double duvet into, as well as a full camping range and pots/pans/kettle. There is no better feeling than watching cold, wet festival goers struggling to shake off the chills of a -2C night in a field as you tuck into a bacon sandwich and a cup of fresh java from palatial comfort. So thumbs up for camping, but screw the yoga mats to hell and back!!

    ReplyDelete
  9. I do enjoy camping, but a long drop toilet? What sadist invented that?

    ReplyDelete
  10. Camping is not and has never been my idea of a good time. No outdoor toilets, bugs, and the possibility of wild animals, no missing the microwave and the refrigerator, no sleeping on top of rocks, just NO to all of it. BLECH.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I like camping. And your blog.

    In fact, I'm not sure why I wasn't previously following it, because I previously liked your blog about a month or so ago and could have sworn I followed it. But apparently didn't.

    So today I remembered I saw you tweet a blog post the other day and THEN I saw you and THEN I came here, read these, and followed.

    Then End.

    ReplyDelete
  12. My dad worked A LOT when I was a kid. It seemed we only saw him when he would take a vacation. And we always did the same thing. Go camping about 20 miles from where we lived. I feel the same as you. I HATED it. I still hate it. My parents still will go down to the lake for the weekend. They will call and say, "Why don't you come join us?" Seriously? I can give you lots of reasons.

    ReplyDelete

I love reading your comments. Comments are sexy.