Lulu's back in town

As much as I luuuurve band camp, I am most jubilant to be home where I'm not forced to eat three crappy meals a day. For lack of a better way to describe the total agony (but fun agony) of band camp and the naked blockades therewith, I shall give a day-by-day summation

Monday

Not too much happened on Sunday: We arrived. Mr. Rutherford told his palace story (which I intend to write down someday so I can retell it), but he didn't get to talk about the shoes. Anyway, on Monday we find out that the shitty (literally) camp water is not potable, so everyone puts out a call and has bottled water brought out resulting in too much bottled water at the end of camp

Tuesday

I got three free Dr. Peppers. Despite my greatest efforts, I screwed up something again. I got the scores for snow caps all wrong. Clayton already is becomming annoying. Mr. R kept us almost an hour too late at our evening rehearsal. Nobody can see the lines and hashes becasue the rain washed the diesel away before it could kill the grass. The ground was full of cracks and it was way too hard to march.

Wednesday

We formed the corn, played charades, are very sore, and Mr. Rutehrford begins to pick on me for being too "argumentative." Parris and I officially became geriatric. "Sugar, we're going down"becomes the official song of camp. The superiority of the Very Berry Muffin and Strawberry Quaker Oat Bars are realized

Thursday

Nessun Dorma sounds awesome, "Goodbye Earl" is sung, amazing pizza is eaten, variations on "form the corn" abound, we left camp.

Friday

We played for the parents (it sucked). We saw Colt and he told us how much he loved band (obviously not enough to stay in it). I played the clarinet (don't tell anyone), and I went home with Cain (after having subway with Jenny and Tiffany and Cain) and we had wild sex watched a movie.

I have now listened to Sugar we're going down for three straight hours in the background continuously.