[Guest poster Carolyn wanted to kiss me with tongue was surprised and grateful when one day out of the blue several weeks ago I wrote her an e-mail that said, "You are awesome. But I'm sure you hear that a whole bunch." She said she never gets those kinds of e-mails, and spends most of her days being told she is sucky. Kids are ingrates, y'all. Anyway, Carolyn is a hot, hot babe and hella clever. Plus, she is a Southeriner, which makes her inherently awesome. She lives a mere two-hour drive away, which means we can go to the Pink Pony together and buy one another lap dances. After I'm absolutely sure she's not really a sixty-year-old man with a convincing mommyvoice, that is.]

Hello happy campers

Hi Jett readers. Jett asked me to stop by. Swear. I’m not gate crashing.

When you say J-E-T-T-S-U-P-E-R-I-O-R and catch a glimpse of those ass kickin’ boots over there do you get a mental image of a nun wearing Doc Martens and some seriously black eyeliner? Is it just me? Perhaps. I had a scary nun teacher at my Catholic school in first grade. And now, as a recovering Catholic, I think sometimes images sneak up on me.

Jett’s busy dealing with life right now and wanted some help filling these pages. You know what I’m doing right now? Well, no you can’t possibly so I’ll tell you. I’m getting ready to take a mass of Brownies camping. At a lake. In the rain. Jealous? It started out innocently enough. I was just signing up to take my little Brownie troop of 14 third graders camping but then at the meeting someone clocked me over the head or slipped me a micky or something and the next thing I know I’m in charge of the whole event. Two hundred girl scouts. At camp. Which is hi-larious because I am not the outdoor type. Even though this isn’t really camping. I mean we don’t have to hike in and pitch a tent or anything. We have cabins. And the camp is run by the YMCA so they have lots of counselors to help out. But still. I feel responsible. And it’s raining. It never rains in Georgia! What happened to my reliable drought?

Of course the worst part of this whole thing is that I’ll be shoehorned into a cabin in the woods by a lake with nothing to stand between me and Jason with the hockey mask but 14 little Brownies. I know what happens at cabins by the lake. And I’ll have none of it. I’ll start with the little ones. They’ll be easier to throw at the boogie man. I should be able to fend him off until daylight. They don’t attack after sunrise do they? I wouldn’t know because I’m too much of a chicken to ever actually watch a Friday the 13th movie. But I’ve heard that if you don’t act in a promiscuous manner then you won’t get attacked and you get to run away at the end. So I will be all manners and appropriateness ALL weekend. I won’t even paddle across the lake in a canoe searching for the boys camp or anything.

So aside from psychotic killers in the woods, the other issue I’ll have this weekend will be my daughter. She’s a tad compulsive. Hahaha “tad” hahaha. Maybe she’s a LOT compulsive. And it might rain. She doesn’t like rain. It’s fine if she’s in a bathing suit and therefore intent on being wet and then gets rained on. But if she’s dressed and it’s an unsanctioned rain event then she squeals like a banshee. She’s like a vampire being doused with holy water. It’s not pretty. And she’s almost 9 which is way too old to still be going bat shit crazy if you get caught in the rain.

But one of the mottos of scouting is to be prepared. So I’m planning to sleep with a machete under my pillow to ward of the boogie man. I’m planning to make my daughter have a bathing suit on under her clothes at all times so at the first sign of rain I can rip her clothes from her and leave her in her bathing suit ready to get wet with the rain water. And I plan to hook a carafe of coffee somehow to my person and mainline it all day. I think if properly caffenated I can handle anything.