A Snyder In The Sun

A Snyder In The Sun

When All You Can Say Is Ughhhhhh

It's been one of those weeks folks, and it's not even Friday yet.

This is week two of Evie's summer vacation and we are already fighting constantly. Between her and Everly's constant needs and wants (ughhhh, kids! Amiright?) I am fighting the urge to pull what little hair I have left out of my head. Hashtagfucksummervacation!

I came across a blog and the author suggested making a sort of I'm Bored jar. Interesting....So I got down a mason jar and cut up some pieces of paper. On each piece I wrote a task Evie could do every time she complains about being bored. Here's the thing though, she doesn't want to do half of the things in the jar. Run around the yard 10 times? Sure thing. Do 20 push-ups? Not so much. I tried explaining that whatever she pulled from the jar had to be done(I mean shit, that's the whole effin point!), but she disagreed and walked away. Evie -1, Green Mason Jar-0.

I am literally counting the days until Kindergarten starts so my poor girl can be constantly entertained, cause I'll tell you what, mom is pooped.  Until then, I will hold on to quiet moments like this

5 Things I Learned at Adult Summer Camp

Ok, so I'm just going to jump into this.

5- Drying out a wet cell phone in a bag of rice really works!! My sis and I tried it after the whole dropping the phone in the cooler thing happened. The best part? We didn't even try this until about 12 hours after the incident. It works folks, try it.

4- Stop overpacking! Holy shit! I pretty much packed every piece of clothing I had and only wore about a quarter of it. I also packed lots of makeup and wore exactly NONE of it. Next year I'm bringing a carry on bag and if something doesn't fit? Oh friggin well. Camping is about roughing it, not primping for hours and looking glamorous.

3- Stretch! For the love of all that's holy, STRETCH!! By the time I got to the airport on Sunday, my body felt like it was going to give out on me. I felt like I had shin splints, my calves burned like fire, and my legs were (and still are!) covered in dark, disgusting bruises. Sure, drunk Field Day sounds like a leisurely good time, right? Wrong!! It's serious business. Next year I am seriously going to get down and yoga the shit out of my body before I compete. Hell, even before I get to camp! It's a marathon and I'm going to train my ass off!

2- It is possible to make new friends as an adult. I was initially nervous when we arrived at camp. I'm sort of an awkward person and meeting new people has never really been my thing. The only time I've made new friends at this stage in my life was when I was working, or through other friends. At Camp Throwback I met so many awesome and like minded people, all thanks to Brittany Gibbons and her mega amazing sense of humor! I look forward to seeing everyone again and continuing getting to know them.

1- Having a large group of women get together doesn't mean there is a guarantee of drama! All the lovely women I met were so supportive of each other. We rallied together and danced, played, and told stories. I didn't see anyone arguing or competing with each other. There were no sad tears or fighting. It was a sisterhood, just as it should have been, and I loved every minute of it  :)

CHEERS TO CAMP THROWBACK! Who's ready to go back next year?! I've already got my ticket. See you in the woods

Camp Throwback: Part C

I woke up Saturday morning feeling significantly less shitty than I did Friday morning. Everything was coming up roses. But wait. Something was...off. Oh yeah, that's right, Tasha dropped her phone in a cooler last night and it wasn't working. Normally I probably would've chocked it up to a fun camp experience and moved on. However, my carrier was TMobile. If any of  my fellow campers had TMobile, you know my pain. I had no service. Like ZERO. We'll maybe that's not entirely true. I heard rumors about standing near one of the pavilion poles to get some bars. It didn't really work for me though. Anywayyyy, the point is that I was using Tasha's phone to call my hubby and chitlins. I needed her phone too. Well shit.
There wasn't time to dwell on the phone. Field Day was happening in an hour. We had already missed  Chili Dan's breakfast burritos and Bloody Mary's because we slept in, I was not going to let a little piece of technology ruin my chances of sweet victory on the field. We put our newly decorated cabin 8 shirts on and made our way to the pavilion.

Our lovely MC, Jess, announced we would be starting with the 3 legged race. Then we were given bailing twine, yes BAILING TWINE, to tie around our ankles. The twine felt like we were in the movie Saw. No fucking way were we going to run down a field with a hairy razor blade wrapped around our ankles. It was time to get clever. Tasha and I looked around and noticed a few people had tied the twine to their shoes. Perfect. So our whole cabin did that. And, boom, we hauled ass down the field and back, and won!
We weren't so lucky in dodgeball. I was the last one standing from cabin 8. I hurled the ball at my opponent (towards the ground so it would be more difficult to catch) and watched with horror as he caught it. Kinda caught it. I'm still on the fence about it. I think the ball slightly touched the ground too. Ah well, we were out. Cabin 8 didn't win the sweet Field Day trophies, but we played our hearts out.
After dinner we were treated to a hilarious concert by Jenny Talia. Omg, I laughed and laughed! She's a genius and I love her. Anyone that can sing so well about a camel toe is just awesome. Point blank period.
And then we drank. And drank some more.  I woke up Sunday feeling very worn down but still not quite ready to leave Camp Throwback but it was time, I had a flight to catch. I crammed everything into my suitcase and got in the rental car. It was time to get on the plane and back to my family in Florida. But first, I needed a big fucking sausage McGriddle. Stat!

Stay tuned tomorrow for the top 5 things I learned at Camp Throwback

Camp Throwback: Part Deux

Where the hell am I? What is that smell?! Oh wait, it's my breath. Why am I stuffed inside this bag like a poor mans burrito? Am I still in my clothes from yesterday? Yup, sure am. Ughhhhh, my head hurts. Time for some water, Tylenol, and grub. STAT. Mmmm, sausage and French toast sticks!
Man, things escalated quickly last night huh? Instead of drinking my dinner (Guinness YUM) I probably should've eaten the delicious hotdogs at dinner. Lesson learned...sort of.
We started with cornhole, which is exactly like it sounds...throwing bags stuffed with corn into holes?  So fun. I highly recommend. As with most things, cornhole is more fun if played whilst buzzed. Drunk cornhole is even better. We continued to play long after the sun set. Darkness, meet flashlights propped under the cornhole holes. It worked like a charm. Something that did not work like a charm? My girl Gwen's overhand bag throwing strategy. Turns out that cornhole is more of an underhand toss kind of game.
Then there was beer pong. What the hell happened?! I am normally on FIRE with those little balls. Nope. I didn't land a single cup. I sucked total ass. And all in front of Brittany Gibbons. Fml! Wait, Brittany wasn't very good either...in fact, we pretty much sucked together. Yay! Don't worry folks, I hear she's gearing up for next year's pong. I call winner!!
Let's decorate some white shirts for Field Day tomorrow. Tasha and I joined our cabin mates at the pavilion and went to work with markers and puffy paint. Note to self: bring puffy paint next year because people covet that shit like gold. Seriously.
I decided to write out EIGHT (our cabin #) on the back of my skintight wife beater. Man I'm clever. And Camp Brokeback on the front. My husband came up with that as soon as Camp Throwback tickets went on sale. He cracks me up. For shits and gigs, I jazzed up the shirt with the elegant word CUNT written down the side. It's a cabin #8 thing, you wouldn't understand ;)
Looking around at all the other cabin's shirts was hilarious. Can we talk about the Herpes shirt please? Classic...and classy! I guess cunts and herpes are just part of the camping experience? Haha, gross.
Time to get ready for a 90's dance party! Andddddd, I failed. I just didn't put any thought in it before I left for camp. As a result, I forgot my flannel (pretty much a staple at this thing) and just rocked a Pearl Jam t-shirt and some Chuck Taylors. On the positive, I was super comfortable which came in handy when I danced my fucking ass off all night!! Oh my aching body.
Everyone looked great and had a great time. The decorations were fantastic and the cookies looked too good to eat. So I didn't. But I wanted to.
After the party, very very late, a few of us made our way back along a path to a different fire pit. Fire a blazin, we talked, drank, and laughed more of the night (well, morning I guess) away. I looked around with a huge (read: DRUNK) smile on my face. These people are awesome. I don't want to sleep.
But sleep I did. This time with PJs on.

Camp Throwback 2014

I've lost count of the bruises. My calves still burn like I can only imagine Lance Armstrong's did after he cheated his way through all those races. I have shin splints and a pretty gross cut on the tip of my thumb. Prison fight you wonder? Tough Mudder? Escape from a crazed serial killer? Nope. None of those things. It was camp, bitches! Adult summer camp to be specific. And it was awwwwwesome!
Welcome to Clarkesville, Ohio: population 100+ DRUNK.
My sister, Tasha, and I arrived in Dayton on May 29, 2014 ready for what? We weren't quite sure. Our favorite blogger brittanyherself.com came up with the brilliant idea of putting a group of adults together at a camp. There would be field day, drinking, camp food, drinking, crafts, drinking, bonfires, drinking, and a 90's night dance party. Oh, and drinking. Sounded like it was right up our alley.
So we get to camp after a detour to find White Castle, which we've never been to, but thoroughly enjoy thanks to the frozen ones all stores carry. Fuck you outdated GPS! Pizza Hut takeout is NOT the same as those stinky armpit burgers! Anywayyyyy, we finally get to camp and it's pretty. Like, makes me long for summers growing up in Pennsylvania pretty. We pull up and are told to park and go to registration. We go into the chow hall where registration is being held and there she is. BRITTANY FUCKING GIBBONS! Like, in the flesh. Her hair is red and glorious. Just like I knew it would be. Brittany looks beautiful and we can't fucking believe this is actually happening. She is my unicorn but she's real, and I'm shitting my pants. She has us fill out some liability forms...probably a good idea...and gives us a sweet bag of swag and our cabin number. Cabin #8 represent!! We leave registration and make our way to our weekend accommodations.
Holy shit. I forgot what camping was like! Our cabin is modest and cute. Bunk beds! What?! It feels like Step Brothers up in this bitch. Tasha takes the top bunk. Good thing too because I'm pretty sure those liability forms would have come in handy for Camp Throwback if I was to sleep 6 feet off the ground. I'm looking at my bed thinking Ummmm how the hell am I ever going to sleep on this thing? Suddenly a little voice in my head whispers Booze, Justine, boooooozzzze. Smart thinking, self.
Now is the time to explore. How about a little bathroom break? The bathrooms are actually quite nice. And that's when I see him. Fred Savage, and he's staring at me from the mirror. I go around the corner and am inundated with some of the best 90's heartthrobs. Sweet little laminated Teen Bop and Tiger Beat pictures on all the bathroom stalls. How fun! We can't stop laughing...or taking pictures.
There are 9 girls cabins. Well 8, cabin 9 was empty. There was also 2 men's cabins. Side note, there were 10 or 12 men there. Most came with their wives, but some didn't, and that's just awesome. So far all the ladies we meet are super sweet, including our cabin mate Nicki, who insists we won't like her because she says FUCK a lot. Umm, hello? Fuck is one our favorite words. We're going to be besties!! And then there is Nanci, the lady we are going to see on the news in a few weeks after she attempts to kidnap Justin Timberlake.
By this time we have started drinking. The night was young. And it was ours!

More to come :)

Princess 1 and 2

We have a beta fish that refuses to die.  It's not like I really want the thing to die, okay so maybe I do.  This is the second beta to occupy the little tank that sits on our counter.  I bought the first beta about 8 months ago for my 4 year old daughter Evie thinking she would absolutely LOVE it.  Instead we got the thing home, set up the tank, she named it Princess (I fought her on that one), and that was the last time she acknowledged the fish.  Cut to roughly 5 months later.  Princess wasn't moving in her tank and I can't say I was sad.  If it were up to me that would have been it.  But no.  Jon (my handsome, hilarious, and  VERY spontaneous husband) decided we needed another fish STAT.  I tried (not really) to talk him out of it but it was pointless.  He was already half way to PetSmart.  He came back with a new beta fish to replace the dear departed Princess, whom he threw over the fence.  May she rest in peace.
The new beta looked nothing like Princess.  Evie looked at it quickly, decided Princess had changed colors, and walked away.  And just like Princess before her, Evie does not give a shit about the fish. So here we are 3 months later with a dirty ass fish tank on our counter because I told Jon I refuse to clean it anymore.  I say when this Princess dies we should throw in the towel and let our days fish raising be done.  My husband however is insisting we replace Princess 2 when she goes because "we have all this fish food!  It shouldn't go to waste!"  Doesn't seem logical but as long as I don't have to actually DO anything for the fish, I'll go with it.  And Evie?  Something tells me she couldn't really give two shits.

Feel free to pass me around to your friends.  I like to be shared ;)