Yup, here we go again.  ‘Tis the season for my new and improved unpolished camp shtick about the packing of the trunks and all the crap that I gotta do to get prepared for the big send-off.

What?  You forgot about the original camp shtick blogs from last year?  Well have no fear, allow me to jog your memory by making them reappear:

Here We Go Again

The Camp Blog Part One: 5 Things I’ve Been Doing Instead Of Packing The Trunks

The Camp Blog Part Two: The Trunks Are Packed, So Now What?

The Camp Blog Part 2.5: Did That Really Just Happen?

Okay, if you’re all caught up now I will continue on with my rant.  Interestingly enough, it’s crazy what a difference a year makes.  You see, some of my feelings on the camp hysteria have changed dramatically since I first wrote the blogs above.

The (New) Camp Shtick

For starters, I haven’t done a thing.  Nope.  Not kidding.  I haven’t done one goddamn thing.  And since I haven’t done one goddamn thing you can be sure that my organization skills are nowhere near what they were last summer.  If anyone wants the huge Ziploc bags you made fun of me for using when I was a rookie trunk packer, let me know; because I still have plenty left over!  Clearly my thought process has shifted significantly on that front.  This summer, I’ll be throwing all the shit into the trunks and letting the counselors figure it out for themselves.  Have at it fellas!  Good luck to you.

Speaking of shit, I haven’t nor do I intend to buy any unnecessary shit this year.  You heard me!  I’m not getting suckered into sending four dozen red, white and blue junk paraphernalia of this or that so my kid and his friends can let freedom ring on the Fourth of July.  I schlepped all over town last year in the hopes everyone would get into the holiday spirit with glasses, glow sticks, flags and kazoos and do you think I saw a single picture of anybody representing the swag?  NOPE.  Not one!  This summer I’m taking an unpolished approach:  To show their patriotism, I’m gonna suggest the kids in the bunk wear white t-shirts that they can use as a napkin after they’ve smeared too much ketchup on their hotdogs or hamburgers and then I’ll propose they spill a blue slushy drink on themselves!  That should accomplish the same goal and it’ll definitely save me a trip to Party City!

Wanna know what else I’m not doing?  I’m not stressing about the camp forms that I’m currently sixty-three days late on completing.  That’s right.  “Little Miss Type A, Anal Retentive, Always On Time Silver Unpolished” Is SIXTY-THREE DAYS LATE on turning in the forms.  My status is delinquent and just in case I’ve forgotten this fact, there’s an unpolished reminder waiting for me every time I log on to the computer and check my email inbox!  But guess what?  I DON’T CARE.  I’ll get the forms done when I get the forms done and I’m not stressing about it.

I’m also not worrying.  I spent the majority of last summer worrying about all the worrying I was doing.  That won’t be happening this go-round.  For all the money I’ve spent on this camp thing, I’ve decided not worrying about what is going on at camp is built into the tuition price, so therefore I’m gonna let the camp staff, directors and owners do all the worrying for me.  I’m paying them to worry!  Aren’t I?

The number of camp forms I have yet to finish might not be zeroed out, but you know what is?  My bank account.  My bank account is ZEROED OUT!

I’ve paid the final bill and now ‘Tis The BJ Season.

Get your unpolished minds out of your pants (or mouths) for a second…

Not that kind of BJ Season.  I mean the Broke as a Joke Season.

While we’re on the topic of money…. You wanna talk about what a difference a year makes?  I thought I got bitch slapped hard last summer when the all-in, bells and whistles, bottom line dollar amount to send one kid to sleep away camp was astronomical.  Now I’m sending two kids to sleep away camp so take my unpolished word for it when I say the financial torture has far exceeded that of simply being bitch slapped!  This is next level abuse.  You might as well bend me over and fuck me from behind.  In the ass.  Then when you’re done, (or better yet just at the point when it seems like you’re done and I think I can breathe again and take a break) DON’T STOP!  Grab a friend or two and let ’em take a turn.  Multiple turns.  Ya see, financially speaking in my very unpolished opinion, sending two kids to sleep away camp for seven weeks is pretty much like getting gangbanged over and over and over.  Of course, not that I would know first hand what getting gangbanged feels like, but it’s kinda what I can only imagine it would feel like.

C’mon, we’re unpolished remember?  Chillax!  This isn’t the time to get polished up and be all prim and proper.  So admit it;  you secretly love the analogy don’t you?  It totally works.  You know it does!

Nobody says it quite like Silver, but I’m not sure there’s much else to say after comparing camp to that of financial rape so this might be a good place for me to quit while I’m ahead!

Good luck to those of you with your own Camp Shticks.  I’d love to hear how it’s going on your end.

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW…. On Your End.  No pun intended.  

Okay, okay… Who am I kidding?  OBVIOUSLY the pun was intended.  It was unpolishedly intended!