Kiefer and I are going to a party this weekend, and because the host has a lot of land, she’s invited people to bring tents to camp out.
Of course, Kiefer wants to camp overnight. (Jump back.) Say what?
I hear your snotty voice: “But, Thoughts Appear, camping is #17 on your 30 Before 30 list. You have to do it.” (Geez, you sound like South Park‘s Cartman.)
Here is the argument I’m planning to use on Kiefer. Please feel free to add more and strengthen my case.
1. I meant camping at an actual camp site…with a public bathroom and shower. The host vetoed guests using her shower because we haven’t had much rain, and she’s asking that the men-folk use nature’s potty…aka trees.
No AC and running water? I haven’t been camping since I was in Girl Scouts. Roughing it will send me into shock. My chest feels tight just thinking about it.
2. In Maryland, it’s supposed to reach 99.99999999987 degrees. Let’s call it 100.
That doesn’t seem like ideal camping weather. If my body had that temperature, I’d have a fever. See where I’m going with this?
Camping in 100 degree weather = Sick
I even proved it mathematically. You can’t argue equations, my friends.
3. I can predict the future. In the middle of the night, I’ll wake up to pee. Kiefer will refuse to come with me, despite my protests of “Haven’t you seen Deliverance, Cabin Fever, Wrong Turn, etc? I’ll get killed!”
I won’t have my contacts in and the flashlight’s battery will die, so I’ll stumble towards what I think is the house, but it will actually be where all of the guys have been peeing all night. Eww.
Then I’ll be attacked by a werewolf…killer rabbit…or rabid monkey.
4. Kiefer, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t make me do this. And because I love you, I promise to go camping with you another time…as long as there’s a shower.
5. No sex. (Maybe I should have led with that one.)
I rest my case.