When I invite you to stay for the weekend at our family lake cabin, I will, in the same breath, mention how this cabin is in the middle of nowhere. To reiterate, I’ll tell you there are no Starbucks, no Walmarts, no GROCERY STORES. I’ll also remind you that this cabin is in a dry county. Which means you’ll find no alcohol in a 100 miles radius.

Given this information, if you are male, I will expect nothing less than for you to show up completely unprepared and I will forgive you...and feed you. However, if you are a female over the tender age of 21, I will expect you to predict and prepare for your own needs.

Sub-Adult Male Jumping spider - (Habronattus mataxus)

Bring with you a change of clothes, a bottle of booze, and the making for smores and I’ll roll out the red carpet. However, commit any of the offenses below, and you’ll face the silent wrath of a blonde:

Offense: Showing up for a weekend at the lake with only the clothes on your back and a smile.
You require clothes, food, and something to cure your parched state. As a card-carrying member of functional society, you should be aware of this fact. On what parallel universe do you show up somewhere for an extended stay and not bring something to wear, eat, and drink? As an added bonus, you should bring your own sunscreen, beach towel, hair conditioner, and SHOES!
Punishment: I will make you my special muffins where I bake discarded bug parts and dust mites into the batter. (tip: if my husband isn’t eating something I’ve baked, best to avoid it). Bon appetite!

Offense: You drink my favorite bottle of wine all the while telling me, “Eh, it’s okaaay.”
If you did not bring your own libation, than at least pretend to like the alcohol I’ve painstakingly smuggled into this dry county. Or chug the cheap stuff.
Punishment: 10 squeezes of eye-drops to your next glass. Salute!

Offense: Hide in your guest room while the rest of us are bonding via card games or firelight chatter.
After a full day of wakeboarding in the sun, we like to hang out with a few drinks and play poker or board games. If you are antisocial, then stay home.
Punishment: I will pull out my skimpiest jammies, pour your significant other a really strong drink, then unabashedly flirt with my husband while your guy watches, causing him to turn into a raging hormone, break down your door and solicit you all night in a drunken stupor. You’re welcome.

Offense: Refer to me (behind my back or to my face) as a Barbie.
Punishment: I will wait until you’re in the bathroom brushing your teeth to sneak into your room and plant random creepy crawly bugs and spiders deep into your bedsheets. Sweet dreams.

I make no apologies for sounding harsh. It’s only self preservation. Years of dealing with weekend after weekend of princesses lounging their tush on a raft while drunkenly announcing to me “I’m on vacation” has grated on my nerves.

I’m not the hired help. And if you treat me as such, you’ll be pulling bug legs out of your teeth for weeks.