The Dangers of Day Camp

The Dangers of Day Camp

I got to work yesterday morning to find a loving note from my buddy Claire saying simply “sorry I broke your glasses.” I was touched. Especially when I had a very sincere conversation with her later that day in which she tenderly told me that her dad made her do it. But deep down, I know she didn’t really mean it. And so I was out at lunch with the kiddies again and Mikala called me over to witness their little sorority meeting. They were going through the rules of their sorority. “Rule number one – we don’t talk to Dustin. Rule number two – we REALLY don’t talk to Dustin. Rule number three – we REALLY REALLY don’t talk to Dustin. Rule number four…” By the seventh rule, I started to get the pattern. I decided standing there getting ridiculed by 10-year old girls wasn’t the best use of my time. And so I started playing with the boys. Their games were very straight forward. They were grabbing me by the feet and trying to make me drag them across the yard. I finally broke myself loose and inevitably it turned into a spirited game of Get Mr. Dustin. This is a game where I run away from the kids and they chase after me. I generally always lose this game one way or another. I can play Dante Hall in the yard and fend them off for a decent amount of time, but all it takes in one kid to catch up to me and weaken my defenses, and then the game changes from Get Mr. Dustin to A Young Adult’s Fight For His Life. This game comes with a warning that Mr. Dustin is not responsible for anyone injured as a result of me falling on them because of the hundreds of pounds of kids anchoring my balancing mechanisms and the other hundreds of pounds of them pushing my torso in different directions. Unfortunately, that warning encompasses myself also.

I have a friend named Erick who I don’t hear from very often, but when I do, he makes his presence known. He decided to chime in with his analogy amongst all of my recent attempts.

Quote of the Day 7/18/06

“Being single is like Texas Hold ‘Em. If you play like an idiot, you can confuse people into submission. Or lose all of your money. Or your pants.”

-Erick

If you think you can do better, chime on in.

Running into the sun but I’m running behind,

Extendo.


Still Standing Right Here…

Damn the DNA

Damn the DNA

Thank you all for your support/criticism/laughter in my very immediate direction in response to my first real weekend off the DL. I’m afraid I’m going to have to write about something else today since there has been no movement forward or backward on the female front since Friday night. Which is usually a step backward. But who knows with women? Apparently no movement can sometimes be a step forward. Which, by the way, is just stupid. I hate these silly games. This is nothing like euchre or asshole or any card game that I’ve ever played. This is like a blind squirrel in a dark room looking for a broken clock that probably doesn’t exist. If you’re into that game, go ahead and have a go. I’m going to go sit under a tree and wait for my watch to break (don’t look too deeply into that – it doesn’t mean anything).

Speaking of breaking things, there’s this girl Claire at camp who I have more of a soft spot for than I probably should. She has shown over and over now that she’s one of the most ornery and misbehaved (bad) kids at camp. And I’m such a softie (pushover). I have lost complete control over these kids. Seriously. I show up to an event and they all get out of the nice line the counselors spent 10 minutes getting them in and run over and steal my keys and visor and sanity. And I can’t get them to give it back. They stopped listening to me sometime ago. I noticed it last week when we were out in a canoe floating towards an oncoming jet boat and the two girls refused to give me the paddle or try to veer from the oncoming vehicle’s course. So I know it’s my fault and I let it escalate this far, but the inevitable happened. At lunch today, Claire reached up to try to steal my glasses and broke them in half. And there was no expression of remorse. In fact, she laughed and ran away with the half she had taken. This girl is 10. Let’s go back to the gender thing again. No boy at camp would do this. What is up with that second X chromosome? I suppose it’s good to know that it’s a DNA thing and we, as a gender, never had a shot.

Anyway, back to Claire. This is the type of person she is. They have this little mini-sorority that is basically premised on not talking to me. I’m not kidding. They have a pact to not talk to me unless it’s to say something mean. Instead of talking about philanthropy at their meetings, they plot on ways to tip me out of a canoe and take the keys to my car and throw them down a sewer grate. So one day, Claire was asking one of the female counselors what male counselors she wanted to date. The female counselor thankfully did not involve herself in this conversation. Claire went on to express her opinion...

Quote of the Day 7/17/06

“Well I like Chris, then Ben, then Mike, then Geremy, then somebody, then somebody, then somebody, then somebody, then somebody, then Dustin." -Unfair Claire

For the record, there are no other “somebodys.” Only 5 of us.

Living blurry for a week,

Glassless in Oxford.


Still Standing Right Here…

Rating Day Camp Players

Day Camp Players

Kids - Not to sound annoyingly obvious, but these little punks are the reason we're all here. And as bratty as some of them are, I miss the kids. My job isn't just playing with kids anymore. I get to play with the parents and the health inspector, etc. The kids are actually the ones that keep my sanity. And my whistle. And the keys to my car. Even the bad ones aren't so bad comparatively. And they have to listen to me. If I go tell them to sit in a corner, they might argue, but every last one will go sit in that corner. I don't think my boss would be as cooperative. A

Counselors - I lied. I do have a group of kids. There are about 13 or so and they wine and bitch about everything all the time too. And some of them are just as bratty as their kids. "Do we have to go to tennis? It's too hot outside." "What's next?" "Can I have a dollar?" But so far this year, none of them have needed to be fired for talking about smoking pot to their kids. A

My boss(es) - I'll be honest. My bosses have bailed me out of trouble when I got in over my head. They're usually very reasonable when I need to order stuff or use the bathroom. But it's really all about the Bengimans to them. Two years ago, my boss's boss sat me down and explained very matter of factly in as nice a way as possible that I wasn't getting a raise or a promotion because they knew I'd stay anyway and I frankly just wasn't worth their money. It burned, but at least I know what he's all about. And it's the Bengimans. Unfortunately, I'm only all about the Washingtons. B-

The parents - 85% of the parents I have to deal with are great. They tell me that their child is having fun at camp and they might have a little constructive criticism or a minor question about policy, but they are founded in reality. Then there's the other 15%. These people have no clue how to parent a child. Granted, I've never had to father a child and I can only imagine how hard it might be, but give me a fucking break. I told a father that I saw his daughter scratch another child's face, showed the child's bloody face to him and the skin was still practically under his daughter's nails, and the guy still sat there and told me that his daughter wouldn't do something like that and that "something else must be going on here." Further down the line on the bad parenting spectrum, I had social services and the police called on me earlier this year for possible child neglect and/or sexual assault over one 8-yr-old calling another 8-yr-old gay in the locker room. She also threatened to go to WBALTV and stand outside with a picket sign saying that we abuse kids. These kind of parents drag down the average. C-

Quote Of the Day 7/9/02

"That's fine. I'll just stand out there with a picket sign that says 'She's a knucklehead.'"

-Mr. Geoff


The two of them can march around in a circle on the FOX Evening News.

Stuck in an endless piggyback ride,

Mr. Jungle Gym.


Still Standing Right Here...

Oh, I Thought You Were Funny

Oh, I Thought You Were Funny

Well, I'm not one to make excuses, but my computer got pink eye. I thought it best not to expose any of you to that. Damn kids.

Oh yeah. The kids. Here's what I'll say about camp so far this year. I have needed to go out drinking on weeknights after camp this year (in only 3 weeks) more than I have the entire other 6 years I've been working camps. Broken arms, social services and the same whacked out parents sending me e-mails complaining that my counselors are giving their child money (I'm not kidding). She even started the e-mail by saying she had a "serious" concern. How the hell am I supposed to talk to these people? I think I'll just sign her e-mail address up for a few porn sites. That'll be funny.

So anyway, camp started a few weeks back. I currently, as I type, have two of my staff members sleeping in my livingroom. So not much has changed except Colin and Woody don't put out first (I hope I didn't cross a line there). So we were all getting to know each other as a staff after work one day and a bunch of us were all telling jokes and piling semi-humorous quip after quip on top of each other. Well, I can't remember exactly what was said to provoke this, but it was one of the least subtle and degrading things that has possibly ever been said to a person. Well, maybe not, but it still stings three weeks later. So what led to this was Colin tossed a quip on the stack and people laughed at it, to which Nate asked what movie that was from. Laurie apparently didn't know it was from a movie and thought he came up with it on his own, to which she said very matter of factly...

Quote Of the Day 7/8/02

"Oh wait. That was from a movie? Oh, I thought you were funny."

-Miss Laurie


Oh wait. That's make-up? I thought you were pretty.

Testing the limits of child abuse,

Mr. Whistlehead.


Still Standing Right Here...

Sarcasm in Training

Sarcasm in Training

Sorry about that last absence, but the last week has just been one big blur of booze, drugs, and chicks. Actually, the chicks are only about 9-12 years old, the booze is pink lemonade, and the drugs were vitamin C pills. By the way, I was really sick last week. At first I thought it was just allergies, but it turns out I had strep throat. Apparently, I'm allergic to bacteria. I didn't see a doctor or get a throat culture or anything, but I just have a feeling. I also have a feeling that the earth is getting dangerously close to the sun and will cause our atmosphere to burn up almost completely within the next 7 years, so take that medical diagnosis however you want to. But I was sick. Of that much, I'm positive.

I've said it before, but I love seeing children outsmart these "adults" we have working for us. Especially when it shows signs of a budding sarcastic bitter hatred for the world's supposed "humanity." One of the 12-year-old girls in the older group is cheating on her "boyfriend" from school with a 13-year-old junior counselor at camp. And she shows no remorse for what she's doing. Apparently I've been giving women a bad rap. It's not a conscious choice they make to be evil. It's inherent in their DNA. Genetics is to blame and that's a losing battle, despite what those Austin Powers penis pumps say on the label. If it wasn't for the fact that men's DNA make them inherently blind to it, procreation of the human race could be in serious jeopardy. I think I got a little off the topic for a second or two.

Anyway, I have a pet peeve which is admittedly sort of anal, but a pet peeve nonetheless. I get so annoyed when people leave dangling prepositions on the end of their sentences. "Where's Darryl at?" Crap like that. There's absolutely no reason for the "at." It's an extra syllable you could save for later in life, it makes you sound less intelligent, it's not grammatically correct, and all the information you need is contained in "Where's Darryl?" That, and it annoys me and I'll tell you about it when you do it, which will annoy probably both of us. Anyway, I'm trying to stop this at an early age in day camp. A 15-year-old junior counselor named Erica was caught using the sentence "Where can I get the dodge balls from?" I then went off on my little anti-preposition dangling schpeal (sp?), to which she corrected herself...

Quote of the Day 7/20/99

"Sorry. From where can I get the dodge balls at?"

-Erica


Apparently, smart ass is in the DNA too.

Ridding the world of the grammatically incorrect youth,

Mr. Cantaloupe.


Still Standing Right Here...

Review of Big Daddy

Review of Big Daddy

Hey guys. Did you see what I just did there? I did that thing where I don't do a quote for a few weeks at a time. I apologize, but I fell for somebody and I've been spending all my time with her the past two weeks. She's almost 8 and she can do the 10 string double helix looking gimp thing. And she's a redhead too. I'm sure you guys understand. Actually, I hope you don't.

I owe you all a movie review. I went to see Big Daddy the weekend it came out. Now I'm not a huge Adam Sandler fan, but I liked Happy Gillmore and Waterboy for what they were worth. They made me laugh a lot and that was all I expected from them. That was also all I expected from this film. I read a preview by a critic on all the movies that were supposed to come out this summer. His entire comment on Big Daddy was "Adam Sandler raises a kid. What, you need more? I'm betting he makes some faces and uses funny voices. God save us all." What I got was a lot more. It wasn't a typical Adam Sandler movie. Don't expect Billy Madison. This film has a good storyline and a few sad parts. It was probably as close an equivalent as Adam Sandler will get to a Truman Show role. I wouldn't go so far to say he was a good actor when it came to the sad parts. In fact, it didn't even seem at times like he was trying to act. Like it would ruin his reputation or something. Anyway, my point is that the film is very good on many levels. Don't get me wrong, it was very funny. Just not your typical silly funny that his films are famous for. And the kid in it steals the show for the most part anyway. He was absolutely great. Even better than the Jerry MacGuire kid everybody loves so much. And leaps and bounds better than young Anakin. Tony keeps telling me that he doesn't see how a kid Anakin's age could have done a better job. Well, this kid will make you notice. His voice cracks when appropriate and his emotions seem genuine. Of course, he does spend the movie playing Octopus Tag as opposed to fighting the forces of evil from a space pod. I guess his job was a little easier, but he was still much better. Overall, I give the film 8 1/4 bugs. Not quite The Matrix, but a little better than
The Mummy. You might want to take a bug or two off of that if you don't like kids as much as I do.

This quote came from one of those orientation things where all the potential freshmen come to a pool party and Stryker and I take turns hitting on the 17-year-olds. Well, Steve showed up and brought his quick wit with him as usual. Lauren and I had been talking about gimp before he showed up, and when he walked into the conversation, she was just asking me if I could remember to get her some of "that stuff" for tomorrow. Steve asked what "stuff" she was talking about. I told him she was talking about me stealing gimp from our art supplies for her, to which he responded...

Quote Of the Day 6/25/99

"So I guess that makes you a 'gimp pimp,' eh?"

-The original white Steve


Ordinary assistant day camp director by day, ruthless gimp pimp by night.

Back again and tired,

Mr. Whistlehead.


Still Standing Right Here...

Mr. Taxi

Mr. Taxi

Well, the perks of my job just don't stop. I get to go to see Tarzan with 45 chicks tomorrow. I like my chances. And a lot of the older girls ask me why all the other girls like me, and I honestly don't know. I think it's just because I treat them like normal adults. Tiny, stupid adults. Actually, I think I figured it out. I think I unintentionally pit them against each other in competition for my attention. It's probably not emotionally healthy, but it's a damn fun game! Now, if only I can harness this talent, and somehow manipulate the basics a bit to be able to control the minds of older women. Like 18 and 17 year olds. Then, I could complete my life and write that book. But for right now, I guess I'll have to settle for the 9 and 10 year olds. They learned a new game today where they con Mr. Dustin into spinning them around until he falls down on his stomach. Then two kids grab each arm and pull me like a taxi around the gym with another person sitting on my back. I hope this game doesn't become too popular.

Well, my car (the old, nonfunctional one) is finally getting towed tomorrow. And once I raise the money to get the other one inspected, I'm going to have a fully functional, non-illegal car. I already got it insured, as I already told you all. The reason I'm repeating myself now is two-fold. A) I'm exhausted, and B) I'm setting up the quote. Because I can't remember anything creative right now (See A), I'm quoting my insurance agent when he was filling out my application over the phone. He asked me a bunch of questions about the car (year, make, model, dead bodies in the trunk...), and he asked me a question I guess he's required to ask, but I found rather silly and pointless to answer...

Quote Of the Day 6/22/99

"So, Mr. Fisher... do you wear your seat belt?"

-AAA Man


"Only when I get pulled over."

Non stop from here to the nurse's office,

Mr. Taxi.


Still Standing Right Here...

Dear Diary: Day Camp Day 2

1999 Summer Day Camp, Day 2:
Dear Diary, it's only the second day of camp, and I've already witnessed a boy get hit in the eye with a tennis ball, the same boy have an asthma attack later that day, and an unnamed bastard counselor named Stryker bounce a kid into the pool off of the slippery wet pool deck and grate. And despite the 11 year old girls' endless attempts, they can't hook me up with any of the female counselors. Or tear my arms from my body. And if Gary asks me to tuck my shirt in again, I'm going to tuck it up his ass. If I'm not running from 25 kids in a spirited game of "Get Mr. Dustin," I'm busy being a host to these parasitic leech children, usually with one of them around each foot like two anchors making sure I can't drift too far out to shore, what with all the high tides I experience and everything. And these kids are the only ones who keep my sanity. Unfortunately, they also keep my whistle. And my extra shorts. And the keys to my car. I dread the day I go into work tired and cranky and give the first unfortunate soul who tries to jump on my back a bloody lip out of frustration. But as of yet, they don't know about my bad temper. Or my criminal record. Or the box of razor blades I keep in my top desk drawer. I must go now Diary, it's almost time for lunch. And I almost forgot about Billy. It's probably about time to uncuff him. I'll write again tomorrow. I love you.

Quote of the Day 6/15/99

Geoff into a crowded gym when a parent comes to pick up their child: "Jarret Davis! Let's go. You made bail."

-The taller Mr. Jungle Gym.


Mental note: Stay away from Stryker when near the pool.

Testing the boundaries of child abuse,

Mr. Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Let's see, where do I start? A lot has happened in this last forced sabbatical of mine. Well, here, I'll make it easy for you:

Car saga:
Lost one car at a gas station (blown head gasket)
Miraculously drove it 1/2 a mile to the mechanics to find this out
Bought Stryker's car (same car, lighter shade of blue, FaTKiD sticker)
Dropped insurance on old car and put plate on new car
Didn't get new car's insurance, registration, or inspection
Still don't have Maryland license yet
Really illegal stuff if they find out
Howard County Police will have old "abandoned" car impounded in 2 days
That's not good either
More news on this as it breaks

Apartment story:
Moved out of Ellicott City
Moved into Tor
It's a little more exciting than that, but that's all you need to know
And we have a vacant apartment for the rest of the month
That's kinda cool

Chicks:
Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Job:
Well, for the fourth year in a row, I'm spending the summer under the alias of Mr. Jungle Gym. UMBC's Summer Day Camp started today, and I've already found four 9-year old girls who like to do this clinging to my limbs thing not all too different from being drawn and quartered. (I'm making blind assumptions again). So it's already not all too different from the past 3 years at Camp Wonderfun. Except now I don't get to use the term "Camp Wonderfun" anymore. "UMBC Summer Day Camp" just doesn't have the same ring. I'll talk to Geoff in the meantime and work on that. Well, this quote came second hand from one of my alleged medieval prosecutors named Ashley. She has a 6 year old sister who apparently got a hold of some of Tony's textbooks or lost the remote with the TV stuck on CNN or invests in stock or something. Anyway, according to Ashley, her 6-yr-old sister, Sarah, went up to her parents out of the blue and said...

Quote of the Day 6/14/99

"Dad, forget about my allowance. Let's talk mutual funds."

-Sarah "the Negotiator"


I can't tell if that's funny. I'm tired. I was up at 6:30 AM today. I fell asleep at 6:30 AM yesterday. If you're doing the math, that means I slept twice in the same 24 hour span. That'll be the last time that happens this summer.

Back to the slave and grind,

Mr. Jungle Gym.


Still Standing Right Here...

House Sitting

House Sitting

Well, I am now house sitting for the rest of the week and through the weekend. It's not a stressful job, but I promised them I'd do it, so I kinda should. It involves being there and "keeping the dog company" according to the instructions on the sheet the lady left me. I don't know exactly what that means. Sunday I went downstairs to watch a movie on their big screen TV they have in the basement and the dog sat upstairs the whole time doing a crossword puzzle. She doesn't play chess or tennis and isn't a great conversationalist, so I don't know what exactly I'm supposed to do here. I went to bed and left her there just sitting on the couch in the "den." I'll be damned if I'm going to go sleep in the living room with her, and even if I do, I'm not staying on the floor. The $125 a night doesn't cover that crap. So basically, all I have to do is be there and walk the dog every so often. This means I can go out for like 3 or 4 hours at a time. Maybe. I don't even really know. What pisses me off the most is that I can't find salt anywhere. Oh well. C'est la vie de loca.

One thing I love about the day camp and kids in general is when they outsmart "grown-ups" besides myself and I'm there to witness it. Such a thing happened earlier today. I was talking about aerobic exercise and stuff, and apparently I was doing a good job of pretending I knew what I was talking about, because Jeanie (our secretary) asked me a question with a few of the kids present...

Quote of the Day 6/13/99

Jeanie (18): "What does it mean when you can feel your heart beat in your stomach?"
Shannon (13): "That you're alive."

You wanna know what it means when you're breathing in and out regularly?

Walking the dog,

Coach.


Still Standing Right Here...

Puke, Documentaries and Little Girls

Puke, Documentaries and Little Girls

I guess I'll take this time to explain that last not-so-sonnet you guys got this weekend. Friday night, a 13-year not-puking streak came to an EXTREMELY abrupt end. I hate beer. The overall concept of it isn't too bad, but I can't stand the taste. I tried to "acquire" it a little too late in my career. So now I think it sucks. Since it takes so much more beer than vodka to get drunk, I decided to try to go the vodka route Friday night. The problem with that is that I have no idea how to mix vodka and orange juice. Apparently, my one to one ratio was a little heavy on the vodka side. So anyway, I partied hard for an hour or so, then "took a nap" on the couch. Here's a brief description of my thought process when I "woke up:" I opened my eyes and felt this feeling I haven't felt in... well, hell, I couldn't remember how I felt back when I was 11. Anyway, I felt it coming, and I immediately headed for the bathroom. I got about one step toward it. This was no longer an option. So I just aimed away from any electronic equipment. That was the best I could do at that point. Trust me. So anyway, now there's a big stain on Brian's rug where I will be forever immortalized. And smelled. Any other information you want about that night is included in your sonnet. I'm done talking about it now.

Before the quote, I have 2 announcements: First of all, if you haven't seen my film, "Nothing But Rim, the World's Worst Basketball Team" in wide screen format (the way it was meant to be viewed), it's playing on campus in another film festival Thursday night. Let me know if you want to go. I am. And I'm really excited about it. You'll get some serious brownie points if you come. It's in Fine Arts 306 sometime after 8:00. I'll let you know more as it happens. Secondly, we're holding a contest to name our kitten. We currently call it "Baby," though we are aware of the fact that it will not be small forever. That's why we need a new name. The kitten is all black with a little white on its underbelly and it acts just like every other cat. It's a girl too, if that helps. So far, the best ideas we have for it are Jiggy, Rockwell, and Baffled By String (Indian heritage name). What we're looking for is some sort of name that will help us pick up chicks. The winner gets a lifetime supply of Meow Mix. All entries will be considered. The sooner the better, as my RAM is already kind of low.

Geoff and I are gearing up for camp this summer. We have our gator skin balls, snoopy band-aids, and handcuffs (those are for the lifeguards) all ordered for the semester. One of the campers was in here taking swimming lessons tonight. She decided to pass some time by hanging out in the office and getting harassed by Geoff. See, her mom was born June 12th, and she was born June 13th. So Geoff said "So your mom is only one day older than you?" She tried unsuccessfully to try to explain that her and her mom were born in different years, but Geoff's sadistic persistence wouldn't let her. About 10 minutes into the eavesdroppingly grueling conversation, she decided to use the following stand, which Geoff also shot down:

Quote Of the Day 5/17/99

Little girl: "You know how you were born in a year?"
Old mean guy: "No I wasn't. It took me 9 months."

She must be thinking of elephants.

Worlds Worst Basketball Documentarian,

Throws Cats Far.


Still Standing Right Here...