Technical Difficulties, Technically
ARGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH is the sound I have made sixteen jilliion times this week, as I complete writing YET ANOTHER entry for this site, and then I watch as it promptly dies and deletes itself upon uploading, and babies cry and puppies whimper and the world collapses in on itself and we are left in another black hole. Or maybe I am exaggerating, and it is not exactly an event of such catastrophic magnitude, but it is totally pissing me off anyway. Also pissing me off: the damn comments are totally not working again. PAIN.
So, I am going to have to try to figure out what the hell is wrong with these various issues (oh, and, also screwed: e-mails, apparently, but I think I've got that fixed), but in the meantime, the comments are dead, and maybe this is about to delete itself, but frankly, I think I will survive all of that because know what, Internet? Know what? I'm on damn VACATION. SO SCREW IT.
Hello! Hi you guys! I am at the beach! I am not working for two whole weeks, and instead I am going to drink tropical beverages and try to get some tan on my fish-belly-white legs, and I am not going to think about briefs or filings or motions or anything, and Dukay is coming to meet me here soon, and so is Ziz, and for now I am with my parents and every once in a while I kind of whimper and hold out my glass and say, "Eeeeeemmmpty," and someone (hi Dad!) pours more wine in there, and it's totally awesome.
Equally awesome is the fact that this year, unlike last year, there is no deadly hurricane hanging out with us at the beach. This year it is all sunny, and the dreaded sea ook is safely inside the ocean, not crawling around on the beach all Night of the Blob-like, swallowing up pomeranians and toddlers and being generally unpleasant. This year, we just have sand. It is WAY better this way.
SO. I'm at the beach, and I'm with my parents at the moment, and it is sunny and gorgeous, and I will probably post sixty million pictures of the beach and all of our really rocking and important tasks here (Tasks for This Afternoon: Lie there. Turn; lie there. Hiccup.) and that will be super fun for all of us, I am sure. I do not have any rocking and important tasks or pictures or stories yet, though, because so far, all I have done is woken up. And, yes, I am aware of the fact that it is currently like 11:00 in the morning, but I do not think I am getting your point.
Although, I will say that yesterday I drove from Atlanta to Gulf Shores with my parents, in their car, in the backseat like a surly nine year-old who likes complaining, won't eat Krystal burgers, and who enjoys thinking lusty, probably sinful thoughts about Jon Bon Jovi (sigh), and I use this example because I totally remember having THAT exact vacation, circa 1986. That was the year I actually cut out JonJon's picture from my copy of Bop magazine, scotch-taped it onto the back of the driver's seat in the car, and proceeded to stare at it, transfixed, all the way from Atlanta to Florida. And, all the way, I refused sustinence in the form of Krystal burgers (whose child was I? Seriously), and all the way, I gazed lovingly at Jon, and then somewhere around the Keys, all love and lust turned to abject disgust when my mother absently looked at the picture, remarked, without joking, that "You know, I have always thought that guy had your father's face, and my haircut," and while I was rolling my eyes (Because, Eyerolling: The Official Passtime of a Nine-Year-Old Leigh) I caught a glimpse of Jon-Jon's eyes, and then Jon'-Jon's feathered, blonde hair, and at that second, something about his picture just...shifted, and holy God, yes. He DID look like my father, and that WAS my mother's haircut, and it was all...feathered and momish, and this ruined Jon, the beach, Livin' on a Prayer, and Bop Magazine for me for the rest of my life.
That...had nothing to do with the trip of yesterday, actually. That was...well, apparently, it was another example of a time I rode in the car. Relevant! Timely! I am just here to share.
Alright, I am going to try to post this, and I will be back ASAP, but right now, my mother is standing over me, saying, "But we need to goooooooo. We have to go to the groooooocery store. I don't wanna waaaaaaait anymore. I need to eat! I've gotta take my back pills!" etc., and I just told her that I was going to tell the whole entire internet that she eats fun for breakfast, and so she stuck her tongue out at me and said something really offensive about my origins on this planet, and now I kind of have to go.
I will be back soon, internet! And I will drink a lot of things with umbrellas, and seriously, I will do it just for you.
Updated, to say:
Look! Comments are working now. I left myself one and everything! Yay!
So, we have had dinner, and I have, for the third meal in a row, eaten and enjoyed a big old basket filled with fried shrimp, and have, for the second time in two days, ordered something that is called, on the actual menu, "The Big 'Un," which means that there are enough fried shrimp on the chosen platter to choke a horse, or gag a maggot, or some other metaphor/simile which ultimately leads you to understand that "there were a lot of fried shrimp that I ate." Please send me some larger pants.