The drive

One thing topped my vacation, and it happened during the 18 hour drive back home. Stopping in Pennsylvania at the best hotel, king sized bed, ice-cold Coors cans, and Invader Zim at 1am after 12 hours of driving. That, my friend, is probably the best thing a person can experience.

Driving with a person you've spent 10 straight days with isn't the easiest thing to do. Their driving skills, annoying quirks, and constant attempts at conversation that are drowned out by even constant-er traffic noises can wear on anybody's nerves. I was the biggest bitch I could possibly be. I didn't even sing along to Mamma Mia songs (yes, Adam likes me enough to take my bitchiness along with a broadway soundtrack). The poor car has never had its air conditioner switched on and off more times, or compared its results to livestock, than today, I fear.

"I am drying up like a turkey jerky, turn it OFF!"
"Turn it ON!!! I'm fucking sweating like a pig in here!!"

We Sang in the Sunshine

God help me, I'm peeling like a masochistic banana. Now I know what my pet iguanas used to go through.

Most of my stuff is packed and ready for the long drive tomorrow. The problem, for an unorganized person like me, is that being 'packed' comes in different phases. The first packing phase (achieved this afternoon) is the general picking up of strewn clothes, folding whatever is clean, and throwing/recycling away the obvious garbage (wine bottles, empty Eggo boxes, etc.). Basically this afternoon is a cleanup that should have been done on a daily basis.

Tonight comes phase two. A little more detailed with the things that need to go into the suitcase. There's the clothes I wore today, the final laundry cycle hill, the beach things I was hoping to use after dinner but never did. Half bags of chips will be thrown away because I don't want to be reminded of the ridiculous amount of calories consumed after a seafood buffet. Some sweeping is also on the list here - the kitchen tiles are filthy with sand.

Tomorrow is when the panic actually sinks in. The pajamas. The dried bikini. The sheets. The bags and bags of things that need to be carried into the car. The shower products. Also, since I plan to be sleepy and hungover, I'll be worried that I'm missing something important and there's no time to figure out what it is. Last cleanout of the coffee machine. Every counter will be carefully scanned twice over to make sure it's clear. Someone who isn't me will do the dishes. The liquor cabinet will be mournfully locked.

And I'll be on my way. Looking forward to Tim Horton's, beer pints, and Gir.

Past Blasting

"So what happened with you two?"
"It was a long time ago. It didn't end well."
"In what way?"
"It didn't."

Drink. Smoke. Drink, drink.

Flaunt It

Cleaning up today. iIt's amazing how messy creative people can be in a week. Also, I think I've finally got the hang of wearing a bathing suit without feeling like a bloatfish:

Just gotta flaunt it. And make sure the teen boys notice.

my favourite things

*stretchhhhh*

Vacations are officially my favourite thing about life. My chest is burnt, my eyes are glazed, and I'm on perma-drunk patrol, but for the first time in a long time, I can actually inhale at full lung capacity. Everything back home seems like a dream away, although I miss the people in it.

I've realized that I've become the girl I most avoided in my teen years. I woke up this morning and knocked over an array of beauty products off my bedside table. This is a sign of too many things that are required for my daily routine. Dristan, Lancome nightly moisturizer, Eye-con eye moisturizer, Cocoa Butter body lotion, Razzleberry lip conditioner, and a bottle of Vapour water(Vapour water, for those not in the know, is water that scientists have collected from clouds instead of ground water sources. In Canada, this prize is worth $2.98 for 500ml. In the States, a dollar for 3 litres. So it's a questionable value).

My bathroom hosts my hair and shower products: Blonde Serum, Root Awakening, brush, a comb, hair straightener, more moisturizer, Wired Hair gel, 3 different shampoos, 2 conditioners, 2 face washes (1 for deep cleansing and one foaming action that's not as abrasive), Dove body wash, a pouf, Satin Care shave gel in Flower Blossom, Venus razor (fyi, completely useless if trying to shave your business), hair pins, body mist spray in Cucumber Melon, and baby oil.

I hated rooming with girls who brought an entire army of products for a weekend away, and here I am, joining the ranks. I know I'm on vacation and it shouldn't matter what I look like, but I think that if one is blonde and not completely obese, one should make an effort to become somewhat of an eye candy display on the beach. You know?

Also, I finally have my own bathroom and think I should girlify it a little. Just for spite.

Voyage

I've been in a creative frenzy daze lately. I'm glad of these opportunities but I'm really ready to throw in the towel. Or at least, use another towel...say, one for a beach? Oh, yes. Orgasmic. Even freelancers need a vacation.

Frankly, I need a vacation from everything around me. My heart needs to breathe a little bit. My brain needs to shut off the stress. My body needs to forget feeling fat. I need to be the one who runs away this time.

Will I bring the laptop? Of course. My life doesn't exist without my lappy. But otherwise, I'm going to run away, find a cute beach-ian boy who looks great in shorts and plays volleyball and has bronze skin and hopefully attract him with a hot red bikini and get laid. Or at least, get him to buy me a drink with an umbrella in it. Who knows. Who cares.

I'm excited, and will post some happy pics of me finally smiling for real.

The Sip, The Gulp

Of course, the first thing that happens to me on my way to Independence-exclamation-mark (a.k.a. London) is that I get lost. I always do this. There's something inside of me that reassures my entire being that I know how to get to where I'm going, irregardless of whether or not I've ever been there before. Usually, I have company. Usually they know this about me. "Do you know where we're going?" is a question I've been asked most of my driving life.
Of course I don't know where I'm going, exactly.
A big sign announced 'Welcome to London' after an hour and a half. Now I just have to figure out precisely where I can park to begin my day. Ever notice how reality hits right about the time it's too late to prepare for it?

Eventually, after many wrong turns and hopeful detours, I ended up running into my dad. Totally meant to do that. Totally. By this time I was starving, so it was a perfect situation. He feeds me. :)

He also drinks with me, thank god. We began with a pitcher of 50 and wings.

We talked about life and broken hearts. We made fun of our waitress who talked like Ellen Greene from Little Shop of Horrors, though he didn't mind the flirting. We talked about theatre and hockey and my best friends. We talked about music and dancing. It was thrilling, since we don't talk much. I felt like I was introducing him to my life.

I noticed his eyes. Unconditional love eyes. Undying faith-in-me eyes. I started to understand that my sub-par relationship with my dad had me searching for someone who could look at me that way. I have unfair standards of what the men in my life need to be for me. On that patio, I had a Wizard of Oz moment: I had what I was looking for all along.

My dad is my soft place to fall, and he'll always catch me. I can fix me without being afraid of failure.

6 Degrees of Perfect

It is gorgeous outside, and there's no better term for it. Gore. Juss. 27 degrees and counting - I'm definitely quite tropical when it comes to weather preference.

Today London, Ontario will be my host. I can't wait. I need a change of scenery, and this is the perfect town to escape to. Those who have never been to London need to visit soon. I'll show you the marketplace, and we'll buy fresh coffee beans, fish fillets, mangoes, and watch the man by the door make balloon animals. Then we can take a walk through the city and window shop, stopping every other block for a college-bar-sized pint. I'll take my shoes off. We'll feed the ducks and swans by the river, and follow the trail down to the park. We'll have dinner at this great Italian restaurant that seats 20, meet the owner and let him buy us another round. Then you can come up to our condo, swim with me in the salt water pool, and we'll dry off on the top of the building, overlooking the city. My happiness will be doubled because you're there to share it with me.

It's even better in the sun! Come!