However, I am going to keep a detailed "trip log" which will brief my daily activities whilst I am on vacation. Okay, that said, I don't tihnk I'm going to actually be relaxing much. I'll be staying up in my FOUR-STAR SHERATON TENTH FLOOR ROOM WITH A BEACH VIEW, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. I didn't pay a shitload of money for that room just to stay out of it all day, you know.

Last summer, me and Belinda vacationed in Pensacola Beach, Florida. But damn it all, a fucking hurricane came through while we were there. Okay, that vacation sucked. In any case, I'm staying in my room a lot and possibly the hotel pool. I'm getting my money's worth, dammit.

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I went go to see "The Crocodile Hunter" last night with my mom and her boyfriend.

Like, the entire population of Zimbabwe was at the movies last night. Luckily, I pre-ordered our tickets via the internet, so we didn't have to wait for that. And we (actually ME), being the smart people we are (I AM), made sure to arrive early to get seats because I was sure the theater was going to just be crawling with Crazy-Croc-Hunting-Steve fans.

I'm not a Steve fanatic, but I just wanted to see the movie because I had been watching his show and it was catchy and I had a shitload of caffeine that afternoon and WHATEVER I just went to see the fucking thing, okay?!?

But I digress.

I found our seats, which were situated nicely in the middle of the theater, kind of towards the end of one row. Perfect. So Mike and my mom left to go get popcorn or something. (I, for one, don't see the point of eating at the movies. You're not really hungry! But it's just the fact that it's a tradition to eat popcorn while watching a movie. You know you're just getting fat because you're going to eat when you get home. So why subject yourself to the Great American Movie-Going Tragedy?)

I had not been sitting down five minutes when a woman with, I don't know, SEVEN kids wanted to sit on MY row. And I was sitting in the eighth seat, which was apparently where the woman wanted to sit. So she asked if the seats on the other side were saved, and I said yes, but that I could move over a little. So okay, I moved over so she could sit next to her kids. (They were hers, I'm assuming. They weren't just kids she picked up from the social services office like some pedophile. That would SUCK! I gave my movie seat up for a fucking PEDOPHILE!!) It was like the Brady Bunch gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Okay. I moved. The previews start. First that annoying Neste commercial with the skeleton-slash-snowman, etc. Then that United Artists thingie that starts off every movie, where the woman in the white tank top says "Welcome" like she's possessed by the devil.

No mom. No Mike.

The movie starts.

No mom. No Mike.

I start to panic, because maybe they've abandoned me and have sneaked into "Road to Perdition."

But no. They come walking in about fifteen minutes into the movie, then they can't find me. So I wave my hands around like a lunatic until they spot me. Then they have to cut across the seven kids and the pedophile before they can even get to their seats.

"What'd I miss?" my mom asked casually.

"A satellite exploded, a crocodile ate Steve, and the world is ruled by damn dirty apes," I explained. She threw some popcorn at me, and we finished the movie in peace.

Afterwards I walked over to Barnes & Noble (it's next-door to the movie theater) and I bought the soundtrack to "Thoroughly Modern Millie," so I guess that makes up for my mother's tardiness and the fact that I sat next to a pedophile for almost two hours.

Crikey...it's a wonder that I even survived. I could be dead right now. In fact, if this were medieval times, I WOULD be dead.

Yep. Dead. Me. That close.

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I think the kittens open a Flying Cat Circus at night while I'm asleep.

I woke up again this morning to the sound of the claw-induced Ripping Noise.

I looked up and saw all three kittens hanging onto the curtains for dear life. They were about halfway up and the curtains were swinging with their weight. Then, one by one, they dropped onto the floor, shook themselves off, and hid under my bed.

Yep. Flying Cat Circus Ringmaster. That's me.

So I got up and laid down on the couch in the living room. Hmm...my feet felt a little wet for some reason....

It didn't take me long to figure out that DAMMIT, THE CAT PISSED ON THE SOFA!

So the couch cushions are now soaking in the sink, which is full of soap, hot water, and anti-bacterial lotion.

Ggrrr....damn cats.

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Today is my brother's 18th birthday. Yeah, he just thinks that he is the king of the world. (Pardon my "Titanic" reference.) As far as I know, he cruising down to his parents' resort on the beach in North Carolina in his Mustang.

Oh yeah, did I mention that he now has a fucking MUSTANG?!?

Damn parents. I won't get a Mustang, I'll tell you that right now. It's called favoritism. No...it's called discrimination! That's exactly what it is!

I'M CALLING JESSE JACKSON AND NO ONE IS GOING TO STOP ME!!!!!!!

I'm like the giant Lightning Rod Of Hate in my family. Don't have anything to do? Aww, come pick on me. I don't mind.

No, I don't mind the fact that I'm going to be driving my stupid Bronco until forever because my dad is an asshole and won't buy me a Beetle like he promised. But go ahead and buy Drew a Mustang. He'll let me ride in it once or twice before you trade it in for a Rolls Royce!!!!

Jesus God Almighty!!!! Will the hate never end?!?

I'm in some sort of Family Purgatory between abnormality and hell.

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I am oh so tempted to just walk into my room with a leaf blower and see what the kittens do. Yeah.

That'll show them not to piss on the sofa!

Okay. Gotta go take my Valium. Trip log when I get back, I promise.

Happy Trails to me!!

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!