Graffiti the Ghost

A pirate's life for me

Ok, so I'm off to camp! Yay, camp! Even more fun when it's pirate camp. Beats the hell out of Camp Okoneechee, my childhood yearly torment involving archery and a concentration in the macaroni arts.

You may remember that Stefbot and I have quite a history of plundering under our belts, starting with our 30th birthday celebration when we rounded up a motley crew of scurvy dogs and sailed a houseboat under the old skull and crossbones, terrorizing everyone in our wake. We followed that excursion by boarding and plundering the Love Parade of 2005, flag held high. There was some resistance when we had our way with the porn palace float (mostly because there's only so many times you can hear "A Pirate Says Arrrr" and "Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum," even on a good sound system, without getting a bit testy).

Now that we're seasoned, salty scoundrels, I think we're quite qualified to act as pirate camp counselors. Therefore I'm offering our services to those less versed in the pirate arts. Should any questions arise over the weekend involving the proper use of lard, or any folks need medical attention for a case of scurvy (the symptoms of which, by the way, closely resemble that of your common hangover), we are the wenches to call.

And, as chance would have it, my boyfriend Johnny (shown right enjoying a tasty carribean spliff) has a new movie opening this weekend. He also enjoys dressing up as a pirate, which really keeps the spice in our relationship, if you know what I mean. So if you can't make it to pirate camp you can at least get in the spirit.

Lemme hear ya say arrrrrrr.

posted by Jess @ 12:07 PM