Of COURSE I didn't forget about you!

Monday, Feb. 20, 2006, 7:45 p.m.

Hey everyone! Congratulate me, for I have managed to survive two full weeks of doing whatever the fuck I want.

To make up for having missed out on writing a pivotal "one year on DiaryLand can you believe it?" entry on the 17th, I'm prepared to regale you with a whole lot of entirely useless (yet surprisingly filling) details about my little vacation.

Oh, and it contains approximately thirty kafrillion pictures, so ... yeah. Sorry, dial-up users. Time for an upgrade.

Shall we begin? We shall. And hopefully we shall also stop already with the royal "we."

Wednesday, February 8

Husband and I hopped on a plane to Philadelphia, deftly avoiding a layover in Chicago (even though our tickets did not even remotely mention Chicago on them, I still consider it a lucky break. Ever since some overworked travel agent decided that Illinois was "on the way" to New York from Georgia, I have made it my mission in life to avoid O'Hare airport as though it were a horde of underfed zombies).

Apparently, though, when you miss out on going to Chicago, the air travel industry's sacred balance of Passenger Rage goes all wacky, necessitating at least one bag to be delayed by a good hour or so after arrival at one's final destination. Thus, Husband's bag showed up after mine.

"And God said 'Let there be grumbling," and verily, Husband did grumble, and did curse the very existence of all baggage handlers everywhere, who cared not, for they were obviously smoking the reefer. And then the bag was finally found just as his loving wife was about to backhand him if he would not SHUT UP ALREADY WE WILL FIND THE FUCKING BAG, and there was much rejoicing."

We spent the evening in Philly with two of my cousins, my brother and my mom (who surprised the living SHIT out of me, because I had no idea she was going to be there, but yay, she was there!), eating and participating in a year's worth of pent-up silliness.

We also ate cheese steaks. At this place.

This is my brother! We are Cabbage Patch Kids, at the moment.

My brother and my cousin made us all some tasty dessert which included maybe eight tons of chocolate and a scoop of ice cream. It tasted like heaven a la mode.

This picture was taken during one of the maybe four seconds in which we were not either shoveling down chocolate heaven, making faces at each other, or teaching each other new and exciting handshakes. The one in the middle is my mom (which, how many guesses did you need? Come on, now), who, despite her youthful appearance, did not give birth to me when she was twelve. Although I will tell her you said that.

Thursday, February 9

We got the truck, after a semi-eventful journey through the Twirly Swirly Gumdrop Forest and the Scary Wary New Jersey Transit System (motto: "We don't care where you're going, we just drive"), and met up with Jim, the truck-selling guy.

I am ashamed to admit that I have not taken a picture of our new truck (which, incidentally, we have named "Cletus") from the outside. I do, however, have some top-notch images of our recently-installed stereo system:

It's not bad for short trips, but on a long, interstate voyage, it's a little annoying to have to change the station BY HAND every forty miles or so.

Why, yes, that is duct tape! We thought you'd never notice!

We made our way to Maryland, where we spent an entertaining, drunken night at Batten's place. Although Husband had a few initial misgivings about meeting "internet friends," Jenn's kindness, hospitality and ready quantities of beer soon won him over.

Thanks, Jenn! We had a great time -- perfectly concluded with an unforgettable hangover picture:

Oh, and by the way, I hope you liked the present I left you on your fridge ...

Friday, February 10

Since we didn't acquire our high-speed stereo system until Saturday, the monotony of Friday's driving was broken up by a variation of our three favorite activities, 1) Bickering, 2) Loudly Singing Random Songs To Which We Don't Know All The Words But Can Easily Make New Words Up, and 3) Making Fun Of Each Other.

We eventually made it to North Carolina (with no bloodshed, even! Go us!), where WarCryGirl and her squeezable family welcomed with open arms, and then led us to some excellent Chinese food.

I believe she's already mentioned the F-Bomb Incident, but to recap: I said something to the effect of "Yeah, wait a couple months and I'll be writing diary entries focused on Guess What, The Fucking Truck Broke Down." Which wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that WCG's young 'uns were sitting near us.

"Near us," as in, "right next to me." Haaa. My bad. Luckily, they were easily distracted by food, and, moments later, by teaching me to walk like a penguin, which I totally excelled at.

Later on, we drank a couple shots of very aged Jack ...

... donned a couple Spiderman masks ...

(the guy on the left is Husband, by the way)

... and got the party started with the silly hats ...

... and scarves ...

... and stormtrooper action figure.

She sent us on our way with full bellies, four portable jello shots, and this button:

Good times!

Saturday, February 11

We were supposed to stop and see NoGoodDaddy, but Husband was being "in a hurry" and decided to "miss the exit." Oh well, maybe next time.

Okay. This entry is getting to be longer than a talentless starlet's fifteen minutes of fame, so I'm going to stop here, and finish this thang up in a day or two.

(Teaser: That's when I'll tell you about how we ended up not going to the Dominican Republic and why that ended up being okay. Is the suspense killing you yet?)

To be continued ...