The Apology Department here at Chintz of Darkness humbly begs your pardon, dear readers, for our neglectful posting practices this month. Perhaps there have been several mishaps, some minor blood loss and a hectic work schedule or maybe a shirking of responsibilities…NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW. But now that we are back we must clearly state two things in advance: 1) We DO indeed leave the comforts of our Obsidian Halls on occasion and DO NOT (despite the persistent rumors) spend all of our time lounging around on velvet pillows under ornately tented ceilings conferring with our collection of jeweled skulls…well, not all of our time anyway… 2) We DO NOT have anything whatsoever against outdoor activities such as camping, hiking and picnics as long as they are done inside in the comfort of one’s home…HA!
Now the reason for this clarification is simply that we can smell the scent of impending doom in the air (oh, wait, that is just our neighbor’s barbeque…) no, the dreaded smell is the first whiff of summer that will inevitably inspire our friends and relatives to start planning a torturous roster of outdoor activities that we must attempt to dodge like a basketful of rabid kittens. This year we have decided once and for all that if anyone suggests a camping trip they will need to provide an inflatable Victorian style tent complete with stained glass windows, hardwood floors and turret. Not to mention a FREAKING TOILET. As for the camp ground, let’s just say the farthest that we are willing to trek into the wilderness is the back parking lot of our apartment building, thank you very much.
It seems that we are blessed (as in cursed) to live in the part of the county were people revere nature. And we do not mean “revere” as in “respectful admiration” but as in JUST PLAIN EMBARRASSING. Case in point, Pemco Insurance enjoys humiliating our region on a daily basis by airing commercials pointing out that we are “a little bit different” with our rabid recycling ladies, our socks with sandals guys and the dudes that make chainsaw sculptures out in the woods. Thus it follows to reason that people embrace (quite literally) the outdoors. We swear to Darkness that one cannot walk five feet without bumping into someone hugging a tree or tripping over a dreadlock encrusted hippy trying to embody a wolf spirit, and that is right here IN THE CITY LIMITS. Now do not get us wrong, we appreciate nature just as much as anyone else. In fact we find nature rather tasty when chopped up in a delicious salad...
Speaking of salad, the cool cooking shows on TV (that we find ourselves hopelessly addicted to…) make outdoor dining look like a fabulous soiree to be enjoyed by all. These evil shows plant otherworldly visions of a vast outdoor kitchen arranged in graceful tiers with a spatula and a crock of cilantro at every turn (damn you Rick Bayless and your sexy kitchen, too!) They feature laughing guest drifting through the gauzy sun drench yard, gracefully balancing a plate of delectable morsels and a shimming glass of wine. HA! What they do not show you is the dark side of garden parties. Flocks of terradactyl sized wasps, excrement drenched flies and of course the race of demons that live in potato salad. Do not even get us starting on the armies of ants that would use your fishnet stocking as a ladder if given half a chance. Mark our words, dear readers, TV chefs are LIARS AND SCOUNDRELS who retreat to the safety of the indoors as soon as the cameras stop rolling…
Now perhaps we would be more open to the great outdoors if things were a little more like a lovely Gustave Moreau painting where one could lounge around half naked in a mystic courtyard surrounded by hazy shrubbery while an attendant helps one put on a collection of enchanted jewels…hmm…
You got your sugar
You got your spice
You got a kitten
Now isn't that nice
You just can't wait for a picnic in Spring
I just get nauseous
When I think of those things
(“Give It Up” by Alice Cooper)