Tag Archives: camp

I was a day camp bully

23 Nov

Hi, my name is Tootsie Woo and I was a day camp bully.

In my childhood I had three distinct identities. I’m told that those with multiple personality disorder aren’t aware of it so I think therefore I’m safe… Each identity was based off of the environment I was in and each was a different side of me that needed help expressing itself…

1. Tootsie the Meek: There was the me of elementary school who was entirely timid and self-conscious and who would base all of her decisions off of her current best friend. I hated my time at school because I felt awkward and invisible at the same time. I was the stereotypical loser (a trait I now proudly anouce) with a nickname to boot. Want to hear it? Of course you do, asshole,  it was Cuppy. Why, you ask? The legend went that I had gotten my first cup bra and had told someone about it, an evil ex-friend. At that age I sported the Limited Too training bra so that accusation was ridiculous but now I look onto those flat-chested wangs that called me Cuppy and only feel pity when they pump my gas for me and drool over my glorious ta-tas.

2. Tootsie the Rebel: Then there was the Tootsie of religious school. I don’t want to make this about religion so lets just say that I prayed at the Church of Peanut Butter (which is the only religion I ascribe to these days) and I had to take classes there where I read from our holy book of P and B twice a week since I was 5. There I was… AWESOME, as is our lord, Peanut Butter. All my friends were there and, seeing as we went to different elementary schools, we were always excited to meet up for these unintentional hang-out sessions. My friends and I would sneak away to the bathroom during class to do hood rat stuff…or to do each others hair while eating soft pretzels we stole from the high priest of Peanuts. It was such a departure from my life at school and made me feel like such a ten year old bad-ass. I even had two taller friends that I would make walk on each side of me like body guards.

3. Tootsie the Bully: And finally, there was day camp where I was Miss Woo and ran the whole damn show. I was: a day camp bully. I am equal parts proud and horrified when I think of my behavior at camp. I went there from ages 4 to 12 so I knew my camp-mates more than any of the jags I went to school with. There was Trish, who was obsessed with bugs (now she would probably be diagnosed with a learning disability…but she was just quirky then), 4 girls named Rachel, and a random British girl who would be shipped off to rural Pennsylvania every summer as per her divorced parents agreement (divorce was weird and unknown then). Then there was this one girl at camp that I never got along with. Of course, there’s always that girl. She was a whiny little bitch who’s dad worked at the camp so she would always get preferential treatment and camp Woo would not stand for it. I invented a game to show my dislike for this girl. It was called Hair and it was like tag but you played it in the pool and if Hair tagged you you would join her until everyone was Hair. Hair, naturally, represented this girl and I was very open about that fact. And though Hair was the pinnacle of awfulness and bitchery on my part, my most memorable moment was when another mean girl in my bunk slapped me across the face (it was an obvious power play) and I grabbed the broom off the wall and chased her around camp with it for a half an hour. Those were the days.

Luckily my three identities eventually merged and balanced out a bit. I tend to give people the impression of meekness because I know my capacity for meanness when I feel threatened and I don’t like people to know that about me. But when the game is on you better “hide your kids, hide your wife” and pray there isn’t a broom in reach because I know how to use it.


About Bank: “Adieu, adieu, to you, and you, and you-hoooo”

4 Nov

Today is my last day at my bank. Sad face emoticon.

Initially I had counted down the days to when my 2 month long 2 weeks would be up (it was really that long, I’m not being cutesy) but now I find myself being dragged out of the vault, talons out, baring my fangs, chest heaving, using a letter opener as a deadly weapon and stuffing money into my bra.


It feels like camp! You know that camp phenomenon where you can be having the worst time of your life, mosquito bites forming a veritable crop circle on your back, with enough shameful hand-in-a-glass-of-warm-water-until-you-pee-during-your-sleep experiences to wallpaper your bathroom, and then comes the time to go home and you just CAN’T. And there you are, with the same bastard that put your hand in the warm water, hugging and crying and asking for their screen-name so you can put them on your “buddy list” when you’re home! You also listen to THIS, a lot.

Well, that is exactly how I feel now and it is so depressing. The end of Cold Mountain, depressing, where (SPOILER ALERT) you watch the whole effing, 10-hour movie, waiting for Inman and Ada to finally be together and he dies. And so do your dreams. And your patience. And your tissue supply.

New Movie from Dreamkillers

What other job could I possibly have where I could come home with the stories that I have?! What I’ve had the opportunity to share in this blog doesn’t even scratch the surface! I mean, a customer once proudly showed me his stab wound!

And I’m also going to miss the people I work with even though they tormented me for months! Leaving Shamus, alone, will lead to a hard-core break-down that will most certainly include a self-deprecating, Cold Mountain marathon accompanied by the new Ben and Jerry’s flavor Schweddy Balls, which I’ve been dying to try actually…

mouth-wateringly good...?

So, as I begin the day, I must keep my chin-up, remember all the good times (like when that guy threw-up pure Vodka in the lobby at 9 am) and make sure I get everyone’s screen names so we can K.I.T (keep in touch) while we H.A.G.S. (have a great summer). Also, the fact that they are getting me drunk as a parting gift doesn’t hurt either.