Happy Blogaversary!

Wow, today is this blog's one year anniversary. That is CRAZAAYYY! It seems like just yesterday I was dragging my laptop to Lovely to force myself to finally make a blog, even if I had no idea what I wanted to do with it.

I tried to write a little somethin' somethin' along the lines of "here are all the things I did this year" but it just sounded so Dullsville, USA, population me. So what do I do? I turned it into another story in pictures, of course.

So here it is, a bit of the past year, as seen from EJS IS ME:

Here is essentially what the Cheese Knives debacle looked like.

In which I realized that not everyone remembers classic Bible stories in the same way.

If you haven't caught on yet, whales are the bane/joke upon my life. But the original post about them was not all fun and games.

I really did want to become a Roller Derby girl. For now, I'm going to settle on buying myself some roller skates next summer.

This is a bit of a random one, but it pretty well represents my time as a true Freelancer.

What a disaster. For the entire story in pictures, go here.


Here is a good representation of the place I sat when I first started the internship that turned into a real job. That window was like God shining his love down upon me.

My most crass title to date, but I still don't take it back.

I don't think I ever got around to explaining the 3rd disaster of our camping experience: besides the fact that it was a ghetto piece of land in podunk Michigan and the showers probably gave me smallpox, there was also a nearby group of Russians playing and yelling Hotel California--and nothing BUT Hotel California--for 24 straight hours, including those times most people reserve for sleeping. What was crazy was that when they first started, Joe and I couldn't figure out what song they were even trying to play or sing. And by the time we left, they were singing in perfect harmony and even playing the crazy bridge part.

Two days after I got a job, I got a cat with a mustache. She likes it with us.


And I really mean that. Thanks to everyone who's shown support for me or for this blog by reposting, voting, becoming a facebook fan, commenting, or even just telling me that they enjoyed what they read. It's the reason I kept going, blog-wise, and life-wise. Your support has honestly changed the way I've been doing things lately. For the better, obv.

Oh! And I didn't include SO SO many posts, like the dogs in sweaters, a bunch of Bible posts, the one about Advertising that got a gazillion hits, anything involving Muppets or my embarrassing childhood, my disdain for sports, my British teeth issue (in which I got a few angry comments from British people who apparently only understand sarcasm if it's coming out of the mouth of Ricky Gervais)...the list goes on. Feel free to go back and read as much or little as you want!

Our Camping Disaster: Part 2

So yesterday I explained to you our introduction to the camp site (Whoah. At first I almost wrote introfuction. Which, frankly, is more accurate.) Today I explain to you...

THE SHOWERS.



Oh so remember those "newly renovated, state-of-the-art" bathrooms we'd been told about? Well, I'll give you this:
- The toilets flushed. (er...2/3 of them did)
- The sinks ran.
- The doors closed...Ish.

I wish I could be so kind about the showers.

They were in the back of the bathroom, where the fluorescent light did not reach. So yes, they were in the dark, even in the middle of the day. For the left shower, the head came straight down from the ceiling. All along that ceiling were bugs. Some flyers, some crawlers. It was rusty and menacing looking. I mean this with no disrespect or with any sense of irony; it reminded me of the Holocaust.

There was no way I was getting under that stream of water.

On the right was a "handicapped" stall (disabled stall? Physically challenged stall? Person with physical disabilities stall?) Three fourths of it was taken up by one of those seats some people need to sit on to shower. There was no way in hell I was sitting on it. I pulled it out of the stall. This shower head was different from the other one. It was the hand-held kind. But there was no place to hang it on the wall to turn it into a regular shower. It hung straight down from the ceiling, and sprayed water at your knees when it turned on.

The best part was, the actual shower head was covered in rust, as well as some sort of green substance. And when the water turned on, it also leaked out of the ceiling and onto your head. This was the shower I chose. And yes, because I know you are wondering, I alternated between muttering profanities and softly whimpering the entire time the shower was happening. Eventually I was "clean."

List Of Diseases I Probably Will Have As A Direct Result Of That Shower:
1. Consumption
2. The Clap, Syphilis AND Gonorrhea
3. Chronic Nosebleeds
4. The Plague
5. The Vapors
6. Black Lung
7. Meth Addiction
8. Scarlet Fever
9. Polio
10. Paranoia
11. Shingles
12. Gout
13. Lime Disease
14. Eczema
15. Hep A
16. Hep B
17. Hep C
18. Diabetes (1 and 2)
19. Rabies
20. Malaria
21. Narcolepsy
22. Insomnia
23. Leprosy
24. Lou Gehrig's
25. And of course, Lupis.

The next day I took a shower via Secret Prescription Strength and a jug of water while the other campers watched.

It was magnificent.

Our Camping Disaster: Part I

I really jinxed myself on that one. Really, I asked for it.

This weekend was, hands down, the largest camping disaster I have ever encountered.

Our story begins...

Joe and I had originally wanted to camp in Traverse City, Michigan for the long weekend and go to the cherry festival. Turns out, so did everyone else.

In the world.

We could not find a single campsite with an open space--they literally do not have grass area for a two-person tent and a s'more-sized fire. Finally we gave up and decided to change our plans and looked for camping in southwest Michigan, which is much closer to Chicago and much further from that g.d. cherry festival (good riddance.) OH BUT GUESS WHAT?! Nope. You, your brother, and your dog also decided to go camping in Michigan for the 4th of July. So thank you. Joe and I used our extreme Googling skills and finally--finally, we found a campsite that had one open space left. The man assured us that if we didn't take it in the next half hour, someone else would. So we jumped at it.

The place seemed lovely. Canoeing. Kayaking. Picnic tables. Hot showers. Electric hook ups.

We were sold.

Joe and I get to the site, voicing our trepidations that the place might not be all that great. We drive in, and our worst fears are realized. We actually drove past the park the first time because we couldn't believe that that was it. The campsite, as we could see it, was a large field filled with RVs, and a simple metal-sided grey building. "It must go back further," I muttered as we drove up. Joe and I walked to the door of the building so we could check in. A little girl, about 10 years old, opens the door. She is wearing the dirtiest pair of sweatpants I have ever seen not on a homeless person.

"Y'all need help with something?" (Don't ask my why rural Michigonians have southern accents...but they do.)
"Yeah, we're just looking to check in. Do we do that here?"
"See that man in the grey shirt?" We turn to our left and see a man a few yards away, hitching up his jeans more comfortably under his potbelly. "That's my daddy. He'll let you know what you need to do."

Immediately, Joe and I swooped onto this girl, kidnapped her, cleaned her, and got her a proper education. *sigh*

We turned and followed the man, who had walked away from us and to the area that we soon learned was the "office." It was also the location of a beagle and roughly 80 life jackets, all of which I assume used to be red but were now a nice salmon color.

"Hello, we'd like to check in."
"Okay," the man said. He pulled an 8.5x11 off the pile on his desk and began filling it out. "How many adults?"
We paused. We'd already given this information. "We have a reservation...?"
"Oh right, yeah. I forgot to ask that. So the two adults then?" He said.
".....Yes."
He continued to fill out the form as if we'd never even called in the first place. "And you want to camp in the Primitive area?"
"No, we'd like the electrical hook up." (We have cell phones, dude. We aren't animals.)
"Alrighty. I'll show you to your spot."

We jumped in the car and followed him as he drove his golf cart down the dirt road and around the corner. He stopped next to an R.V. where a woman with a scrunchie was blasting "Born in The USA". The man leaned out his golf cart. "How's this?"

Oh. You only get electricity if you have an RV. Got it. "Uh...where are the primitive spots?" we asked.
He pointed down the road, toward the trees where other tents are set up. "You just drive on down there, til you find a good spot."
"It isn't sectioned?"
"Nope, just find something dry."
"Okay, and what about bathrooms and showers?"
He gestured a few meters to the right. "Right over there. They've just been renovated. State-of-the-art facilities now. Hot showers."
Joe and I shot each other mirrored looks that said, we'll see. "Great. Oh, what about fire pits?"
"Don't have too many of those. Just set something up on the grass, that's fine. And there's only a few picnic tables, so if you find one, go ahead and scoop it on up."

And that, my friends, was our introduction to Paw Paw River Campgrounds.

(To be continued...)