say it's good.

Ok, so it may just be official that Britney Spears is beyond being saved. I mean, the woman is out of her barefooted, backwoods, backup dancer-marrying, cigarette smoking, mildly obese, baby-making mind. I mean, we all thought she was a little off when she made out with a 45-year-old woman on national television, but, for some reason, we excused that one. But, let me tell you what. No one in her right mind schedules an interview with Matt Lauer, and then shows up with unbrushed, nastily bleached, frizzy hair with fugly bangs, a jean skirt reminiscent of 1997, a gross purple shirt, shimmery blue eye makeup, and a huge wad of gum in her mouth. I swear it was an interview segment of COPS. The girl looked like the trailer park had its way with her and then threw her the heck out. She literally SOBBED about how she wanted the papparazzi to leave her alone with Matt Lauer, and then she does an "exclusive interview" with OK! Magazine a week later, then dyes her hair black and does a TOPLESS, PREGNANT PHOTO SHOOT for Harper's Bazaar. The pictures can be seen here. Are you kidding me? Oh well... whatever. Let's hope she takes a long vacation and finds her some Jesus. So, yesterday was our alone night in camp. We had an awesome day, doing some Massive Waterfront since the Apache were the only ones in camp. The unfortunate thing was that one of our children decided to defecate on the dock... twice. You should have seen my face. I shut that dock down and I told those kids what was up. I said, "You BETTER not poop on the dock again. You can have accidents, but tell us when they happen." Well... that didn't work. A few minutes later, we found a child's soiled clothing sitting next to a shower stall covered in feces, including a handprint all along the wall. Because the child left his clothing next to his... work... we knew it was him. I asked him about it and he told me it wasn't him. I said, "Did someone take your clothing, cover it in poop, and then poop in the shower, spread it around, and then leave?" He said, "I don't know." And, it was so weird, but my fist started talking to me. It said, "Please let me hit him. Please let me do it. Just give me one chance. It will make you feel a lot better." I had to ignore my hand. It was sad. I just told that child he would never do that again because I knew he didn't want to find out what would happen if he did. Then, another kid crapped his pants, twice. We had a tribal meeting and are now having dedicated poopy time where each child spends 10 minutes in the bathroom twice a day. No more of this. I will throw down. Besides feces, camp is great.