Essentially, I'm Cleopatra

I went on a camping trip recently. I keep calling it a camping trip. It wasn't a camping trip. It was a retreat. It had cabins. I stayed in a cabin.

It was freshmen retreat for this program I'm in, so that we can bond with each other. I did a really shitty job at actually bonding with people my own age. Go me. Mainly, I talked to three people I already knew and two of the seniors helping with the trip. Although, I'm not actually sure if she was a senior.

She wants to be an actress. Or at the very least she wants to act. The finer points of it escaped me. But, we shall call her the Actress. I'm definitely in love with her. She asked me if I wanted to work out with her. I don't know what about me made her think I was someone who worked out.  

I didn't turn her down. I was like sure. If your going when I have a break between classes. Of course. Now, if she really was serious, I hope it is not labor intensive. I hope it's like let's all run at our own pace on the treadmill. My pace would be walking and it would be like a bonding moment. The other senior, I talked to was involved in this discussion as well. He's fantastic. I love him so much. And, he actually is going to work out with the Actress.

We'll come up with a name for him. I'm thinking Brick from the Rowdyruff Boys. We had a very enlightening conversation about Vogue. He said have you tried British or Italian Vogue. I don't speak Italian. So, no.

He says to me, if you know Spanish you can figure out Italian. You see I didn't take Spanish in High School and I barely passed French. I can't even begin to imagine me trying to reading French Vogue. I realize he's four years older then me, but it kills me that he has a firm enough grasp on another language to suggest reading a magazine in a foreign language. That will never be me. 

I hope he doesn't hate me or dislike me. Granted he did allow me to pronounce his name horribly wrong without bitching me out about it. So, that's probably a good sign. And, when we went outside to get his cigarettes he did give me his blanket, because I was cold. I don't know why I'm so stressed out about it. I just don't want him to hate me.

Ignoring that. The trip itself. The food was okay. It wasn't great, but you know it was a weekend retreat. Where no one showered by the way. Now I did. But, I don't blame anyone who didn't. You see there wasn't a lock on the bathroom door and there was no real convenient way to get out of the shower without being totally naked.

I did not actually sleep in my bunk bed. I fell asleep at about 5:30 in the morning between the Burlesque Jenny Lewis and Brick. Actually, I wasn't between them. I was on the complete opposite side of Jenny. The semantics aren't important. We were late to breakfast. And, we were also taking a group picture that day. So, I had to look good. So, of course I took a shower. And was more then a half hour late to the breakfast that started at 8:00 in the morning.

I told you how Jenny has this beautiful make up she does. She did not do that, that Sunday morning. There was no way. She put on this big sunglasses to hide her face. God we all looked so ratchet that morning. It was like the walk of shame. My hair was everywhere and I was wrapped up in a blanket. It was rough.

There was no participation from me in any of that morning's activities. Otherwise known as Bazooka Ball (I don't support gun violence) and mud bathing. I am not a pig. This is not a spa. I don't see Reese Witherspoon.

I was so incredibly anti-social that morning. The only thing I really did was the canoeing. Three people could fit in one canoe, but there were only two paddles. When I saw a group of two going for that canoe. I latched onto them. I sat in the middle and let them row me around the lake. Essentially, I was Cleopatra on the Nile. I did not say a word to them. It was beautiful.

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We also had to write letters of advice to ourselves to open in four years. I do not want to hear the advice from the current me in four years. I will probably have deleted this post in four years. People evolve. I don't think about middle school me. That wasn't just a ratchet time in my life it was catchet. My letter basically went “Hey, sexy bitch. You looking fucking fantastic.” Because, in four years I'll still want to be told I'm beautiful. It will be an uplifting moment. I really hope I don't have to read it aloud. I hope someone else doesn't read it aloud. That would be worse. At least if I read it I could censor it. All of this happened while I was listening to “Anaconda” of course, because what better inspiration could you have to write a letter to yourself.

I keep ignoring the day before. There was a lot of singing. I mean Disney songs. There's a point where you just have to say fucking let it go already. I blame all of this on the bonding moment that was walking the woods in the dark, with no flashlights, just the man who owned the campground leading us. I was petrified. It was terrible. Then, we had a campfire. Where I was accused of eating all the Oreos. I had three and a half. I hardly ate all the oreos. Come at me bitch. Come at me.

Dodge ball was also something we did. I enjoyed it actually. But, it wasn't the dodge ball part that I enjoyed. It was more the disco/ dodge ball combo. There were black lights, a disco ball, loud music. It was kind of everything. I got turnt. I did this very sexy move on the wall where I danced with myself, that was great. I just had a really sexy time where I called everything sexy. Oh, what a sexy potato that is, oh that child falling was sexy. There was really no rhyme or reason to me calling things sexy. God. I was so annoying.

That's not true. Yes it is. I was so annoying, but I wasn't close to the worst. There was this girl who was from California. Literally everything she said had that thrown in. The fruit here isn't as sweet as it is from California. It's because of how far you have to ship it.

Bitch maybe you should try getting fruit from Target instead of the gas station before you starting bitching about our fruit.
It's sixty degrees outside. Oh, my god it's so cold. I'm from California and it doesn't get that cold there.

Bitch. I lived in California most of my life. I lived in Southern California. It does get that cold. Kill yourself.

You know what I love about this place, is that I'm from California and all of you have accents.

Bitch. We are not your token black friend. Back the fuck up.

These are just the ones I remember. People were like why don't you like her. Because, she's so god damn annoying. Is she so basic that everything she says has to include, “I'm from California.” Go back there you factory reject dildo. Her parents are still in California. She's the one who chose to move out of her natural territory. Go back. We don't need you. 

This is what I told her roommate when she asked me, why I didn't like her. And, I'm fairly sure California girl knows I don't like her. She kept giving me these dirty looks. I'm like that's right bitch. I don't like you.  

At the end of all of it we had to do these surveys for the group leaders about what could be improved on our experiences. The whole time, I wanted to say get rid of California girl, but I held back. Because our president is all, we're a family, we take care of each other, we love everyone. There is forty of us. I hate to break your heart, but there's going to be people who don't want to be around each other.

I did resist temptation and at every turn. I was like get rid of this hike. I don't want it. Send it to California. Just don't put it near me.

There was even a scale of 1 to 5 for an overall quick summary. 5 sounded like I just saw Beyonce in concert. 4 sounded as if I was forced to go see TLC without Left Eye. So, in all good consciousness I could not put five down. So, I gave it a 4.8.

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We were also forced into stating one thing we loved about the retreat. I felt so guilty. All these basic bitches were like that hike was the best. All the while I'm sitting there being like, I shot that down at every point on that survey. Sorry boos.

I am also sorry to that honey boo boo child, I shot down for her obsession with Taylor Swift and liking “Shake It Off” and being excited about 1989. I mean I do shamelessly own all of her albums and I'm probably going to buy it anyway.

So, you all can judge me. I know Brick did when I told him. He took his eyes off the road- we were on the freeway mind you- to give me the dirtiest look. I swear. He might be bitchier then me.

I think I've fond my soul mate.

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