2003-11-09

Vacation Log, day one: Tuesday, October 14th.

The trip began officially with me being practically patted down by security at John Wayne Airport. I blame the metal toe in my Docs and the dime I didn't know was embedded in my pocket. Grandpop stood to the side, chuckling. But did I even twitter last time when he'd forgotten the miraculous medal in his shirt pocket? Nooooo. Thanks a heap, Grandpop.

We had a connecting flight in the Magical Land of Mormon (or Salt Lake City- whatever), then to Philly. Grandpop was gracious enough to let me sleep both flights away, for the most part. I have this trip-induced narcolepsy. If I'm in any car or plane and I'm not driving, the vibrations put me to sleep. Sort of like how babies are. Anyway, he complained about it last time, but I guess I provided enough entertainment for him that record number of times I tripped or dropped things. Then there was that moment right before we landed when an entire can of Diet coke found its way into my lap. It soaked my crotch on both sides as well as the seat and making it look, to the untrained eye, like I peed myself. Grandpop leaughed heartily and recommended diapers till I was ready for the toilet. Well, I never!

We arrived in lovely, stinky, rainy Philly and I part ways with Grandpop. He goes off with my Aunt Mimi to stay at her humble abode (And aren't I lucky to have not only an aunt named Mimi, but an aunt named Gigi as well. Adds a certain color to the family. Yes, the gods have indeed blessed me). I waited for my darling D-San. He lives near the airport and has issued an open invite for me to bum rides off him from said place.

Anyway, there was some extreme wind and rain happening, so we took shelter in a shady all-night diner. I immediately lit a cigarette (Mmmm, indoor smoking). Turns out neither of us are having the luck with men. As a consolation (and because it was true), I told him he looked thinner. Though he could not return that specific compliment (because we all know it would have been a dirty, dirty lie), he did say my hair looked good. In fact, I have gotten so many hair compliments over this vacation that I may stop stop frying it into submission. My hair's curly. It might not be a bad thing. Maybe we should all accept the hair fate has dealt us and stop the constant changing. Let the hair do what it will.

Yeah. Off topic, as usual. Dan dropped me off and even manfully carried my giant bag into the house for me. That was when I saw my Dad and gleefully squealed, "Father!" in his ear. See, he was going to be away. But he wasn't. His truck wasn't fixed right or blahdy blah blah. Anyway, I was happy he was home. I wasn't looking forward to being in the house without him. I mean, the Evil Stepmum was there and we have fun and all. But Dad lends a certain stability to the house that is lacking when I'm there with my brother and his wife and kids. Did I ever mention The Sean and the entourage live there? Cause they do. Because my brother, though once lovable in his... can't think of the word... slackeritude? Is that a word? Okay, I know it's not. But can I make it one? Anyhow, The Sean has become incapable of holding down a job for more than six months. There is a constant cycle of Sean/Dad battling, then Dad rescuing Sean from poverty. Then the battle starts again. But The Sean wasn't there that night because of a pending divorce. You might wonder why The Sean is out and The Wife is in. The Sean and Dad were in battle mode again. The Wife, or we could call her Denise, was not involved in the battle. More importantly, The Denise was holding down a job and was the kids' primary caregiver and bla blah blah. I didn't want to go into detail. Suffice it to say, my Dad believed that The Sean wouldn't get a job unless he had to in order to have a home.

Okay, my head's all hurty. It was that night as well. For I learned of all these strange developements that night. I went to bed. Thus ends day one.

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Outside of Vacation Log Land:

Have been watching reruns of Daria on Noggin. Cannot stop. Remembering how I idolized her and Jane. Isn't Trent hot for a cartoon? I think he's the hottest of all animated men. And that's saying a lot. Because I like the film noir-esque Batman's Patrick Warburton thing. Mmmmmmmm.

Am trying to watch Daria without getting sucked into the Junior High Melodrama that is "Degrassi, the next generation." It's tough. Because I love people who say "aboot" and I love when characters annoy the living crap out of me before I've even heard them speak. I love to be a hater. Man, Kendra, Ashely, and Manny's ears must be burning with the fire of a thousand suns right now. Dammit! I am getting sucked in!!!! Apparently, Degrassi Junior High has the same power that it did fifteen years ago. Damn you, Degrassi!!!!!