FIREFLIES: Gross Up Close?

I have never seen fireflies in real life before, but I've always wanted to. All those cute little creatures with softly glowing butts, whose only purpose in life is to be trapped in a jar and used for romantic mood lighting at a campground, rustic houseboat or even a redwood deck attached to a timeshare in South Lake Tahoe. Unfortunately, I don't think they make fireflies in California... at least not in any of the places I've been. So I decided to look up some images of fireflies on the inter-web. I was planning on Photoshopping them into a romantic tableau of Matt and I holding hands in the woods while surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, each carrying a scorpion on it's back... until I saw THIS:
THESE are nature's glowsticks? Gross. Just disgusting. But it gets worse... apparently, fireflies have better things to do than jump into your jar and save you money on your next PG&E bill:

Look, they hump each other just like you and me! And, like my Junior High volleyball coach, the male firefly has a fondness for piggybacking the pubescent female just after she's hatched from her cocoon... and the result? (WARNING: don't scroll down if you just ate gherkin pickles, uni, bay shrimp or firefly larvae)


Oh god, I can feel the barf rising in my throat as I type this. This is a motherfucking firefly larva eating a slug. YES A SLUG. So not only is the spawn of those doggy-styling "Demons of the Dark" one of the most hideous, exoskeleton sporting, offensively segmented organisms I've ever laid eyes on, but it snacks on goddamned slugs. Slimy, blobby, booger-like slugs. Gee, Mother Nature, thanks... thanks a lot. A real swell gift you've given us, gonna put that right in the broom closet along with the swarm of mosquitos and the fresh dog poo you gave us last Christmas.

In conclusion, I have discontinued my naive desire to surround myself with a cloud of fireflies, and I highly suggest you do the same. I have also added the fireflies to my "Do Not Babysit For" list, right in between cobra snakes and Mr. G*.

*My Junior High volleyball coach

But that doesn't mean I don't want to go camping anymore! I just can't go anywhere to the East of Kansas, or to tropical Asia or Central and South America.

xoxo Jenni

Skirting the Edge of Danger

I get a lot of crap for wearing dresses and/or skirts in the out-of-doors, and I'm starting to believe that this is one major prejudice preventing me from being invited along on camping trips. Frankly, I don't understand what all the fuss is about. Throughout history, plenty of career campers frolicked in nature sans pants, including (but not limited to) Annie Oakley, Indian maidens, and Mel Gibson in Braveheart.

I may not own a lot of pants, but I do seem to have an endless supply of bossy ex-boyfriends who were fixated on ridiculing me for something as innocent as wearing a Marni halter dress on a beach hike (TIP: maybe if you concentrated more on your own attire, you wouldn't have gotten arrested twice for panhandling in Pac Heights). I find that skirts are not only more comfortable than pants, but much more attractive when fluttering in the gentle tradewinds, framed by a pair of dolphins leaping gracefully under a rainbow . Also, if you are bitten by a water moccasin or a large scorpion, I can use the sash as a tourniquet and save your leg.

But look, I'm willing to make a compromise if you promise to take me camping this summer! I have already started a working list of camping-appropriate outfits, keeping in mind the close proximity of an open flame and my low tolerance for alcohol after a light meal of trail mix and wild berries. This over here to the right is just a sample...

So, what do you say? Are you going to take me to the woods, or what?! Please continue to visit Take Jenni Camping for further arguments for taking me camping until someone fucking takes me camping! Happy summer!

xoxo Jenni