It's Not Exactly Pepperland ...

I am going to run out of stupid ways to injure myself sooner or later.

This is one of many VERY TRUE statements which I could make regarding my past three days of vacay-shun, with a few others being:

I absolutely HATE spending my days just laying in, next to, and/or in the vicinity of a beautiful, temperate, clear, refreshing pool.

Sleeping in is stupid and should be outlawed.

I most certainly DID NOT DRINK ANY ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES. AT ALL. BECAUSE THAT IS ILLEGAL AND WRONG ALTHOUGH NOT QUITE SO BAD AS STARTING A GIANT WAR.

Ahem.

Now that we've got that out of the way, I'd like to call your attention back to the first point. That point being, my score on the Gracefulness-o-Meter for this weekend would have been right around that of a coked-up mastodon. I have spent most of today poking and prodding various areas of my body to see if they do not hurt, but sadly, this process has mainly just resulted in the discovery that my own involuntary yelps of pain are more entertaining than I would have expected.

It's a good thing, too, seeing as how I failed to make the discovery, in a timely manner, that jumping off of the high dive ("All 35 Feet Currently Under Construction! Keep Off! Yes, Even You, Girl Who Has Definitely Not Been Consuming Alcoholic Beverages!") in the middle of the night without following the proper jumping procedure (namely, feet pointed down) would probably not be too dandy of an idea.

Also, the discovery that if you must fall down, it is best not to do it near spiky bushes. This goes along with the discovery that spiky bushes want to make you cry.

May I again mention that I WAS NOT CONSUMING ANY ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES AT THE TIME OF THESE EPIPHANIES. Hello, Big Brother! No drinky-drinks for me, no sir! I Love The Army!

Anyway. I obviously took several metric fucktons of pictures, so rather than just telling you all kinds of stories and then showing you said pictures, I will do for you, my devoted ducklings, a little-bitty Pictorial Tale O'Fun And Much-Needed Vacation In Baghdad.

I walked into the ex-presidential hotel which now serves as an Army resort, and the first things I saw were the largest chandeliers I had ever been that close to without having to pay anybody large amounts of money to walk into the room containing them. They took my breath away, and HA HA if you now have that song in your head, because I totally do, too.

Then there was the Pool Area, which we will just call AaaaahLand, or Heaven, whichever you prefer. Either way, Saddam evidently knew that being an evil dictator necessitated keeping his visitors nice and cool and happy in the sun's heat if he ever wanted them to trust him long enough for him to turn on them.

The reallyreallyreallyreally tall high-dive there -- the one which is visibly taller than the sun? -- that is the one which turned me into The Walking Welt. At least, I am just going to go ahead and blame it on the board. It's not like I can blame it on the ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES WHICH I DID NOT DRINK.

And that last room, there? That was my Sleep Room, wherein I did NOT pass out in a drunken stupor, EVER.

I spent most of my time with these three fine, upstanding individuals, whom we shall just call Hannah, Todd and Mark, for those are their names. And if they hate me for posting these pictures of them, well, that's too bad, but they'll never know 'cause they don't read this. Which settles that.

Have you noticed AaaaahLand in the background and/or foreground of most of these pictures, by the by? We figured that it was the best place to be, since indoors is not known as an ideal place to work on a tan, unless you are doing it the cheating way. Which I know none of you do -- RIGHT?

Hannah and I also participated in Sumo Wrestling, which could more accurately be called Getting Into A Large, Heavy Suit And Waddling Around In Front Of A Bunch Of People Who Will Not Help You Up When You Fall on your Back Because They Are Too Busy Helplessly Peeing Their Pants With Laughter.

But we got our revenge -- we judged their "big splash" contest. I of course, was the Pain Judge, which meant that I gave more points when the contestant emerged from the water hollering, "Fuuuuuuck!!" preferably while bleeding. As you can see by the "8.5" I am about to give out in the above photo, the corresponding jump probably went something like this:

NOW! Now we see several instances where once again, NONE OF US HAD BEEN DRINKING ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES.

We learned how to hold cigars in or near our mouths without feeling the need to vomit heartily ...

And then I learned what happens when you are gullible, and respond to "Just take a big pull on it" with "Okay! I will do that!": you experience the desire to put said cigar out on your instructor's eye or other highly sensitive body parts rhyming with SHMESTICLES.

They remained blissfully ignorant of my evil schemes, though, since I've learned a lot from not ever actually attending the Anger Management classes which my commander deemed necessary.

I ADORE the karaoke, folks. Especially when I am NOT CONSUMING ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES. As one can plainly see I am NOT DOING, by my tendency to NOT BREAK FORTH INTO DANCE.

So all righty, then! That's enough of the NOT ALCOHOL-INDUCED madness for now, I should say! If you absolutely insist on seeing more pictures, I invite you to visit my special flickr page which contains a couple more, a couple different, a couple of the same.

"Which are we saying, hello or goodbye?"
"I think it depends on the context. Just keep smiling ..."

I must add that the stupendous War Cry Girl informed me of my keychain victory, and how fucking cool is that?? That means that you all gave me all kinds of vote-tacular loooove, and it makes me want to shower you with gifts of the invisible and free variety.

Also! Ploppy has bestowed upon me one of the greatest DiaryLand honors ever -- I am on Quoted.

For real! Right now! I so very am! And that just makes me happier than Britney in a Cheetos factory. Which is kind of sad, because I bet you anything that Britney's weekend DID INDEED INCLUDE ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES.

Congrats, Britney, you total lush. Here's hoping your kid's meals don't all taste like Nacho Cheeze.

And there you have it, folks -- my vacation, and how it ultimately boiled down to NO ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES CONSUMED.