I’m back from vacation! And I really want to apologize for not responding to comments or keeping up with other blogs while I was gone. You see, I was too busy drinking, eating, and laying in the sun…it was absolutely exhausting and you must forgive me.
Oh, and here’s another apology: I’m sorry for failing you again on Cheapo Wino Wednesday. But guys, there was no way in hell I could have held a glass of wine to my lips without my liver shriveling up, I drank way too much this week. In fact, on Monday we went on one of those banana boats and I refused a life jacket, assuring the Captain that I’d consumed enough margarita salt to make me buoyant, like a raft (only I said “like riff raft” because I had too many margaritas). Luckily, I came to my senses when I saw the dollar amount of my life insurance policy reflected in Brian’s eyes, it made the boat flipping over during my “Doesn’t this thing go any faster?” rant a lot less scary.
Anyway, now that the apologies are out of the way and you love me again (just go with it), our trip to Turks & Caicos was wonderful! It began with a debate on the appropriate preflight breakfast. I selected a hard boiled egg and oatmeal. Brian chose a big fat danish.
Me: Why are you eating that crap?
Brian: Because if I eat a ton of calories now, then I won’t be hungry again until dinner.
Me: Nooo, they say you should eat protein and complex carbs, then you’re blood sugar won’t spike and you’ll be fuller, longer.
Brian: I don’t buy it, that’s health food propaganda crap. You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Kim.
Me: No, of course not…Hey, that reminds me, are we still getting those auto-shipments of lube for your ab stimulation machine? How’s your six-pack, anyway?
*Of course, for the rest of my vacation, my breakfast consisted of chocolate chip pancakes with a side of 3 egg omelet. Whatever.
As we approached the security gate, our passage to the line was blocked by a woman with 2 small crates that read “LIVE ANIMALS”, and she was complaining very loudly to the TSA agent.
Woman: They want me to pay a baggage fee for my dogs to fly, and I don’t think I should have to.
TSA: Ma’am, there’s a charge for animals to fly.
Woman: But they’re not going in baggage, they’re flying in the cabin.
TSA: Yes, but there’s still a fee for having them under the seat.
Woman: But you don’t understand, I’m not going with them. (she waves two boarding passes in the air) These are their tickets. I bought them their own seats.
Holy shit! She’s sending these dogs on vacation!
My mind started racing: Where do dogs typically vacation? Are they going to visit their mother? Did they choose the window seat and will they be disappointed to find that it doesn’t roll down?
While they were arguing, I glanced in the cages and saw 2 little Yorkies. Their hair bows and matching Burberry collars told me that these tiny bitches were flying First Class. Meanwhile, Brian and I would be in the far back, inhaling fecal fumes from the shitter.
Once settled into “Shitter Row”, Brian asked for my hand sanitizer (because he’s obsessed like that), so I dug around my bag but I couldn’t find it. I sensed he was getting anxious by the “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FIND IT?!” shouting.
Me: Jeez, calm down man! It’s not like some deathly sick person is going to walk on this plane and go on a caribbean vacation. (Just then, a woman wearing a hospital mask enters and sits 2 rows in front of us).
Me: Oh c’mon! Look, she’s probably just wearing the mask because she’s paranoid about getting sick. I’m sure she’s totally healthy. (Cue the guy in hospital scrubs who sits down next to her and holds out a handful of pills and a Dixie cup of water).
Me: Oh, c’mon! Sooo…read any good books lately?
I don’t think we talked again until we arrived. Oh wait, he did ask me for my almonds…because he was hungry…because he ate that stupid danish for breakfast.
If you care, I’ll share some pics of our trip either tomorrow or Monday. I’m sure you’re holding your breath.
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