First off, twice it has been called to my attention that my newly acquisitioned tent resembles something of a coffin. I have no photos of it to upload at the moment so you will just have to take my biased word that it does in fact not look anything like a coffin. It is Tan and Red. Coffins are Black. Case closed. And if any celebrity look-a-like comparison is to be drawn, it shall be my me here now: my coffin- ack! now you have me saying it. ahem, my TENT resembles a Star Wars X-Wing fighter:
. . . Minus the X-Wings, of course. And the obscenely large hand.
And it should be noted that it took me a good 3 minutes of internetting to find that image and learn that it indeed belongs to the realm of Star Wars.
3 minutes is like forever in space.
More if you have gigantic fingernails to buff, paint, polish.
Back to my story.
So, while my inaugural camping outing was sufficient in the crazy weather category for my little star fighter away from home to prove its worth in the midst of a deluge the likes I have never seen before in my life, my second outing served to illuminate the fact that nylon and mesh fail big in the sound proofing department. Not that I had high hopes for a quiet night situated how I was. Cuz really, camping within 50 feet of a giant-hand sized bonfire + about 150 inebriated peoples cavorting/zombie staring/hippie dancing all around it was more of user error than anything else.
One last note. Mosquitos. God made dirt and dirt don'- OW! m&therf#cker! is what I have to say about that. My tent was superb at keeping the little f%kers out. (or in, as the case was one unfortunate night. it's like we, mosquito and I, snuggled up and fell asleep at the same time, slept through the night peacefully, only to die/wake up at the crack of dawn with me slapping myself in the face to kill it as it kissed me good morning sunshine.) Hippie Bug Spray, on the other hand, far, far away from the first hand, did not exactly get an A in that subject. Hippie Bug Spray is like more of a suggestion of repelling than actual protection. A passive aggressive one at that. 'Hey, uh, I know you survive on stabbing me with your proboscis and all, and - OW! oh, sorry, didn't mean to startle you, I know you have family to feed and you're really - OWIE! F&CK, sorry. you're a really nice bug, insect, whatever, but maybs you could not do - OW! MOTHEROFGOD, uh, that. if you could not do that, for the rest of our hang out, that'd be really swell.' I mean, a nice non chemical smell and environmental concern goes a long way, but not as long as itchy bumps all over my extremities it turns out.
This coming weekend will be yet another chance to escape to non city space in my tiny space fighter. Being the type of person who hops in on adventures when other people have already made the plans, I cannot tell you exactly where I am going or what the conditions shall be. But rest assured, I will be warm, dry and at the very least, engaged in some kind of mediated conversation with native bug life.
On a side note, it should be known that my soon to be ex-neighbor (what is this? mor'on that later. . .) is playing Christmas/New Years songs. It is mid August. I'm not saying, I'm just saying.
Other fact of note, today, August 16th, is the anniversary of the death of Mr. Elvis Presley.
Which is also the anniversary (#2) of the near death of Mr. ilvs strauss. And while singing harmonies with the king of kings and the king of all other things sounds really dreamy, this prince is pretty happy to be here to see another year. So a Happy New Year it is.