Leo Carillo Nighmare Pt2?

We're planing another road trip to the beautiful state of Cali. Last time we did a road trip from Northeast Arizona to Portland, stopping to camp along the way. The entire trip was an amazing experience, even though camping wasn't my thing. Only 2 experiences that left a bad taste in my mouth. One was the Leo Carrillo camping (in Malibu) experience and the other was driving in pitch black fog through the Redwoods (due to my poor planning through Bigfoot territory, but that's another story).

My issue with the Leo Carrillo campground were as follows:
1. Me, in a commercial? The beach was a stone's throw away and when we approached, it looked like we were the only ones there. Too good to be true? Wait? This isn't an issue, is it? Yes. It. Was. 

We walked to the beach with intentions to wade and hunt for shells. On our way to the water we saw a man walk over from a parked trailer to the right of us. The painfully obvious hipster says (from under his handle-barred mustache), "Um, hi, we're making a commercial. We can't tell you not to walk here, but please don't walk here, we're filming." Dreams crushed. Who cares if my leg made a cameo in that commercial? The commercial didn't even look that great...not from afar. Not wanting to ruffle feathers, we stayed in our 5x5ft alloted area and rubber necked the, what I can only assume, probiotic (or fiber) commercial. 

2. You are better off going to the bathrooms in the woods. It wasn't necessarily the camp's fault, but when a ginormous family sets up camp and monopolizes the bathrooms, literally all day, you have to make constant pit-stops to the nearest store(s). The only time the showers were open to non-ginormous-family members was at night, 10pm-ish.


3. The Creepers. The first day of setting up the tent felt like being on a game show. Namely by 2 Looky-Loo tweens, or "The Bitches," as I lovingly referred to later on. I was always told it was rude to stare, but these two teens felt the need to just stop and blatantly stare, nonstop, like I had a horn. I drew the line when they decided to play Frisbee and hit the car numerous times without so much as a, "Sorry," "Oops," or "My bad." Common sense people.

When I was in the tent, away from the prying eyes, I could hear them walking by...not being paranoid, but trying to peep in, pretending the tree they were "climbing" was so fascinating. There was plenty of walking space between camp sites, not to mention a hiking trail on a hill, so why the tree a foot away from our tent? Seriously, who does that?!? Entertain yourself with a lizard.

The nickname came from me trying to doze off at night and being constantly awoken from The Bitches' conversations going something like this (keep in mind this convo has been going on since the early evening): 

B1: "Let's go to the bathroom"
B2: "No. Go yourself. It's dark."
B1: "ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU'RE NOT GOING WITH ME?"
B2: "No, Dude, go by yourself."
(10 whiny minutes later) 
B1: "WTF, dude? I ALWAYS go with you!"
(2 whiny minutes later)
B2: "FINE!"
B1: (Half way to the bathroom) "Are you serious? You're going to just leave me here?! WTF dude!" 
B2: (single footsteps heard) "Brah, It's too far."
B1: "Dude, I'll never forgive you!" (Stomps away & I swear I heard sniffles)


4. Sleep? I hardly knew you. We finally get settled and drift off to sleep from a long and tiring day. Then it starts. Whispers, whispers turn to laughter, laughter turns to "let's get drunk" talk, "let's get drunk" talk turns to loud obnoxious chatter and unfunny fart jokes. We realize we are dead set in the middle of said ginormous family...REUNION!!!!11!!! The chatter grows louder and louder. Of course, being the ever passive couple we are, we decide to wait it out. 4 hours later, the groups are drunk, making dares, reminiscing, and making lame jokes about douchy people. Irony? (For got to add that the camp "host" is nowhere in sight and is closed up for the night) Of course my husband sleeps like a rock, so I'm alone and about to have a legit nervous break down. At about 5am they finally drift off the sleep. I'm teary eyed and exhausted. Hubby turns over and says, "Good morning. Ready to pack up?" Meaning pack up and drive to our next camp site in Santa Cruz. 

I think a little piece of my sanity died that night.

Why go back for this trip? I don't know. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm really hoping this experience will be a lot better and I plan to bitch proof the tent. 

End of the Year Things

This end of the school year couldn't come too soon. I'm not sure if people understand the frenzy that happens at the end of the school year. I would liken it to the running of the bulls. This frenzy starts Monday and "ends" Friday at your (teacher) check out time. Packing up and removing things from the walls is in itself a huge task. Why bother packing up if you're returning next year? For a fresh start the following year. Since students aren't allowed to help, the burden falls on the teacher. If you're fortunate enough to be an ELA teacher with a million and two books, then you need a strong (physically and mentally) husband. :)

Things of note at the end of the year:

-Notes from graduating students that are really thoughtful and amazing. I read one that made me cry. It's the small things that really make your day and keep you from going insane.

-The end of the year treats. I had a student make exactly four cookies for himself and teachers. He said, "Here, I made this for you to say thank you...I should've made more." Of course I say, "I appreciate it, but you should eat it." He looks at it longingly and then hands one to me and says, "My mom helped me make these cookies...HEY!...how about we split this cookie?" "Sure?" I say and take my allotted half. I was so sweet. I know it was hard to part with.

-Being ready to leave for your check out time. Amazing