Vacation: All I Ever Wanted
Hi. How are you?
Oh really? Good to hear.
You are looking well.
Wow. That’s a little forward… but appreciated.
Here’s the thing:
1) I’m exhausted. I’ve had a super busy few days – doing something I love – and need some downtime. I’m completely zonkered.
B) I’m a little bored with the straight prose-y stuff I’ve been writing here. I write it. You read it. You don’t comment. (Bastards!) You fall in love with me. You begin to doubt your own relationships… and/or sexual orientation.
Today I am going to try something different. (If you just thought, “Write something interesting?” Get the hell out of here. We don’t need your kind.)
Today I am taking a va-fake-tion. That’s right. It has all the recuperative qualities of a vacation, but you don’t need the time, money, or inclination to deal with people. Awesome, right?
One thing you do need for a va-fake-tion is a matter transporter. I haven’t checked in a while, but I am relatively sure you can pick one up at WalMart. And you need a destination. I picked the Mayan Riviera. (Which is essentially the show-off’s way to say “Cancun.”)
(I was going to do a running diary of this, updating hourly. But, I am too tired for that kind of dedication. So, you get it all now.)
What I Did on My Va-fake-tion
By Peter DeWolf
7:00 am – I arrive at the local matter transporting station. (WalMart gave me a raincheck.)
7:03 am – I take my place in line behind a sweaty, sweaty man. I don’t want to be mean, but he looks like he ate the Comic Book Guy on The Simpsons. He is singing along to T-Pain’s “I’m in Love With a Stripper” on his iPod. Him paying for companionship… shocking.
7:04 am – I notice that his t-shirt says “insert irony here” on the front. I resist urge to say, “That t-shirt is stretched so tightly that we couldn’t insert a fucking molecule there.”
7:07 am – Don Henley tells me about an empty lake, empty streets and the sun going down alone on my iPod.
7:18 am – My turn to be transported.
7:18:12 am – Helloooooo Mexico.
7:19 am – Rough ride. Feels like my balls are up in my stomach.
7:20 am – They were. Sent back through matrix again.
7:22 am – They lost my luggage!
7:25 am – Buying Hawaiian shirt in gift shop. Wondering if I’d look like Magnum PI if I grew a moustache.
7:37 am – Eddie Vedder is on my iPod telling me not to call him “Daughter.” Done.
8:00 am – 10: 00 am – Napping on beach.
10:04 am – Meet lovely chamber maid. She can’t speak English. I can’t speak Spanish. She is either propositioning me or trying to sell me the family donkey.
10:07 am – Yep. Definitely the donkey.
11:14 am – I drank the water.
11:25 am – I… can… see… through… time…
1:06 pm – Relatively sure I puked out spleen.
1:07 pm – Make note to look up purpose of spleen.
1:14 pm – Wondered why I can’t pick one tense and stay with it.
2:30 pm – 4:57 pm – Napping on beach.
5:00 pm – Back at transporter station for ride home.
5:02 pm – It’s mine and my donkey’s turn. Hope that my balls don’t end up in his stomach. Or vice versa.
5:02:32 pm – Eeeeeeeeeeeep.
I told you I was tired.
[Most bloggers would admit this post was crap and delete it. But, that’s not how I roll. You are seeing behind the curtain here, people. Be afraid…]