Posted by: tlnemethy | September 3, 2013

Remembering Those Moments

While I’m sitting in Iowa just biding my time looking for the next job, I can’t help but keep sifting through those random memories of camp that I’m sure will stick with me forever.

Let’s talk about that time my entire cabin went down to A+C (Arts and Crafts for you non-camp people) and decided not to do any crafts, but to paint the counselors in all the colors and messes they could handle. The counselors were wearing as little as humanly possible without being immodest. I mean, c’mon. You’re going to be covered head to toe in a paint that mostly stains no matter how much soap you mix into it. Of course, none of my clothes were really that important to me, but I still like to keep them until they get worn through. Paint does not make for a good appearance in the real world.

So I show up wearing my sports bra and oldest pair of running shorts after having already broached the topics of painting etiquette to the girls. Apparently, the camp thing to do is go ape shit on counselor armpits with the most brightly colored paint. Not only do I not want anyone up close and personal with my armpits, but I’d rather not have them slathered with art supplies. Call me a strange person, but its the truth. According to me, the points to avoid were as follows: armpits, eyeballs, anything covered by clothes, and my belly button. Seriously. Stay away from those areas.

I really should’ve known better. 1184945_10153163613745302_902475293__2222n

The girls started out calmly enough. They had a plan to paint me as my namesake; the salmon. But they really only got a few scale marks done before they changed their minds to getting me as disgustingly sticky as humanly possible. I had to stand there with my arms outstretched like I was miming an airplane as they giggled and openly mocked me. Don’t get me wrong, it was one of the most hilarious activities at camp. It also happened to be a ridiculously hot day so the paint was drying almost as quickly as they could pour it on. Good for me, bad for the mosquitoes that got fossilized on my neon skin.

The painting only lasted a good ten minutes before paintbrushes became the thing of the past. Instead, they grouped together and grabbed the jars of paint to sneak attack me and dump the entirety on me. It was shockingly refreshing. I’m not sure what the physics properties are that makes paint stay icy cold when the air temp is about 90 degrees…

Then they went for the armpits.

I kinda just gave up, because when I would turn to glare at the paint wielder to my left another one would splatter some to my right. It was exhausting and I’ve learned to pick my battles. Just when I thought it was over, one of my kids comes diving towards me with a paintbrush extended in front of her like a jousting lance. I tensed up my body before I was thoroughly impaled directly in the belly button with some crusty tipped paintbrush soaking in red paint. Gah. At least after that she tried to draw some abs on me so I could regain some semblance of dignity.

We were just talking about packing it all in when I see one of my girls dip her entire hand in dark green paint. Thinking she was going to leave a nice traditional hand print on my shoulder or legs like the other girls, I turned away to talk to a fellow co counselor. That’s when I felt the honk. I turned back to her with my mouth wide open in shock because she’d literally just honked my boob and retreated to safety. Are you kidding me?! The internal monologue inside my head started singing the inappropriate song. “Inappropriate, that is not appropriate. Inappropriate, that is not okay” as I carefully reviewed the crowd around me to see if I was going to be fired immediately.

The coast was clear, but I still had the green evidence printed on my boob so I crossed my arms and hid it as best I could until I ran to the waterfront. I ended up chasing the assistant waterfront director around the sand, threatening to hug her and transfer some unique artwork to her, but we called it quits after we got too winded.

Let’s just say I found orange paint deep inside my ear canal a few weeks after the painting. That is how extensive the painting went.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: