Y’all, just typing the word ‘vacation’ has made me feel so much better that I think that’s just what I need. I start thinking about taking two weeks off in March and I feel like this big weight has just been lifted off my shoulders.

Who the fuck cares what I do? Maybe the dog and I just spend all our days at the park, then we come home and tell you all about the shit we saw.

Maybe I mop the kitchen floor or watch shit-loads of TV or throw eggs at the passing trains. Does it matter?

Whatever it is, it’ll be different. And lord knows I need some “different” right about now.

7 thoughts on “Vacation

  1. Now you’ve got me thinking about one.

    I’m thinking a good hard week of some Beale Street debauchery would do me good. Plus. I’ve never been to Graceland…

    Fuckin’ A! I’m goin’ to Graceland!

  2. Memphis sounds great. Too many beers at the Flying Saucer, Big Green Alien Plastic Sippie Cups filled with alcohol for adults that tastes bad but isn’t, music that makes your skin feel alive. (I suggest catching The Dempseys)
    Debauchery is such a good thing.
    I need a vacation myself, problem is, there is no time.
    Maybe “running away” is what I need.

  3. One of my best roadtrips was an unplanned vacation to New Orleans. Got drunk as hell in Mobile Al, drove half drunk to N.O., spent a week drunk there, was propositioned to swing by the wife of a one-armed man, saw topless women over breakfast at 8AM, almost killed a guy, got drunk in Mobile on the way home.

    Classic road trip. Made 500 friends, 50 enemies.

    I’ll never see any of them again.

    Thank God.

  4. Knucklehead, I should tell you that I’m pretty feral. Mop or let the dog lick it up–in my book, those count as the same thing.

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