Apparently I Wasn’t a Fish in Another Life and OCD has NO Place on Vacation…Or…How I Almost Wretched all over my Florida Vacation

One of my life goals: Swim with dolphins. Because I think that I was a fish or a fishy mammal in another life. Seriously, I’ve always loved being in the water. They threw me right in as a baby, and I’ve been in love ever since.

This year, I wanted to go to the Florida Keys to swim with, hug and kiss a real, live dolphin. One that wasn’t wild in the middle of the ocean with the potential to kill me. (I know. Dolphins. But still. Wild. Animals.)

I also wanted to snorkel. Last year, when we went to Marco Island, Brian’s mom told me that we should get his dad to take us snorkeling in Key Largo, because she absolutely loved it. I promised myself that we would do that, even if we didn’t do it last year…

Being the only one in a group of 4 that thought it was acceptable to pay several hundred dollars to swim with a dolphin…my P1 became the P2. Unfortunate…but…it was fine (and not the I’m-a-girl-and-going-to-say-it’s-fine-but-it’s-really-not kind of fine, just normal I’m-not-a-crazy-bitch fine). I’ll just go to Florida and swim with dolphins on my own time.

So snorkeling it was. We drove the 3 hour ride through the Everglades to Key Largo where we 1. Didn’t have a plan. 2. Apparently had TWO maybe plans. That required back and forth driving to decide which was a better deal.

This is where I had to get one of my bloggie besties to calm me off my ledge…

OCD has no place on vacation. OCD has no place on vacation. OCD has no place on vacation. OCD has no place on vacation. OCD has no place on vacation.

OCD has no place on vacation 2

OCD has no place on vacation 2

So, I listened to reason. And stopped freaking out. Brian and his brother also made a solid decision to stay at the place we were at and not drive around looking for a better deal or a longer snorkel trip. And so we slowed our day down. And got things ready for this snorkel trip. And walked around John Pennekamp to explore the beauty and such.

It was a REALLY perfect day too. We wandered for a few hours, got all of our gear for snorkeling, sunscreened the fuck up (when I came back just as pale as when I left, my co-workers and even the conductor on my train were all, WTF, Christine? And of course I responded, um Um hello?! Irish skin. And I don’t want cancer. Or a nasty leather stomach like some of those old ladies I saw in Marco sporting sports bras and power walking.)

When it was time to head over to our boat, I KNEW it was going to be a great day. The name of the boat said all I needed to see. I mean, imagine the good fortune and the joy that came with a sweet ride named after one of my favorite sea creatures. It was definitely going to be a great day.

Does that sound like ominous foreshadowing to you? Sarcasm? Dirty, rotten lies? You’ll see.

The boat ride out to the Coral Reef was awesome. The breeze through my hair, the amusing boat captains cracking jokes about boozin’. The quick lesson in snorkel gear. It all sounded good to me. This was my first trip out on the Atlantic that I am aware of. I’ve been of the beach before, but never in the middle of the fucking ocean.

After a brief training where the people in charge explained how to snorkel in about 15 minutes, we were ready to roll. Brian and I were the last ones out of the boat…

And as soon as I hit the water, I freaked the fuck out. Like full-blown panic. Apparently, it didn’t hit me until that EXACT moment that I was IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING OCEAN. I had my snorkel mask on and the snorkel in my mouth and was wearing the most buoyant wet suit on the planet (which I didn’t even realize, to be perfectly honest–I just knew I wasn’t swimming hard or sinking) and flippers. This was the closest to being a fish I’ve ever been in my life.   And I was TERRIFIED.

Thankfully, Brian calmed me the fuck down as we floated 30 feet in the wrong direction of the boat. Apparently, it’s really fucking hard to swim with flippers on. I couldn’t get the hang of it. At. All. Brian had to hold my hand and cart me around, pretty much the entire time I was in the water.

After being yelled at by the boat captain, we made our way back toward the coral stuff. And I got acquainted with having my head in the water. Which was weird.

Head. In. Water.

 

I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you about the cheap disposable camera we purchased. I ALMOST bought an underwater camera for this experience. And decided to instead invest that money in a sweet Canon camera that I got a great deal on thanks to Amazon:

(It was the highest rated point and shoot on Consumer Reports; also shameless plug for my Amazon affiliate…if you click above, you might help me buy more cheese</cheesemoneytalk>).

So at the gift shop, we got a disposable camera to take underwater photos for you. Underwater, I pointed and Brian shot. It was a good system…especially when I saw a Dorie-fish (not sure what she was and too lazy to Google anymore…) and was yelling through my snorkel, “DORIE! DORIE! Get a picture of Dorie!)

Dorie

Honestly, I’m not sure this is the Dorie picture or not. It was all very confusing.

Yellowtail Snapper

According to Google, this blue fish with a yellow fin is a yellowtail snapper

Rainbow Parrotfish

Rainbow Parrotfish – It was a lot prettier underwater.

Barracudas anyone?

It’s hard to see, but there is a fucking school of barracudas down there. A fucking school. Well, like 12. But still. Holeeee shit.

Up close and personal with a barracuda.

Up close and personal with a barracuda.

Eventually, I decided that I wanted to play with the camera. Or Brian wanted a picture of himself. One of those.

And he relinquished the camera to me.

Which was pretty much the worst idea ever. Not only could I not figure the damn thing out, things started to go downhill. Fast. I’m not sure if I swallowed any water, or if the floating motion got to me, or if the looking through the lens of the tiny camera underwater was the ace in the hole…but vertigo hit and it hit fucking FAST.

Immediately, I had to lift out of the water, remove my snorkel and freak the fuck out. Again.

I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit all over the Coral Reef and myself and Brian and the fish and the barracudas were going to eat me and it was all over. I’m only a little bit of a drama queen.

I knew I needed to get out of the water and out of the suit and out of the mask and the flippers and be done. But I didn’t want to ruin Brian’s fun. The saint that he is still voluntarily pulled me to the boat, while I panicked and tried really hard not to puke into the water that everyone was swimming in, unaware of my agony and that they might just swim into vomit at any minute now.

We made it to the boat. Brian pulled off my flippers (because bending down seemed like the worst idea ever. Worse than anything. Ever.) and I crawled up to the boat. I spent the next hour sipping water and wishing I were on land while everyone else enjoyed being fish for a day.

Brian got a picture of himself (I think courtesy of his brother)

R1-02237-003A

Before it was all over, Brian and his brother even saw this GIGANTIC goliath grouper. Apparently it was the size of a large cow. And bad ass awesome. I’m so jealous.

 

  Don’t feel bad for me, though, Blog Friends. I had a good time and got a story out of it.

Have you ever had high expectations for something that didn’t quite go as expected?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

That One Time You Asked Me For Ridiculous and Impossible Blog-Souvenirs From My Vacation? This is What You Get.

I was on vacation. For a whole week. 8 days to be exact. 8 days out of Chicago. 8 days out of the cold. 8 days in Florida. On a tiny little island, where grandparents hang out with each other and walk on the beach together with Chrissy. You asked me for the following:

  • Gators modeling swimsuits.
  • The hottest guy you can find. I want the six-pack, tattoos and everything. And you can say it was totally my fault if you get in trouble. SEE, I’m already a bad old lady!
  • Every beach has “that guy.” You’ll know him when you see him. I want to see him and maybe a great woman in a two piece suit to remind my wife how fun vacation is and that we need to start saving if we plan on going.
  • Awkward people.
  • Maybe a great pic of you and Brian and a palm tree.
  • Dolphins!!
  • Toes in the sand (a request from a Google Hangout)

Unfortunately…I didn’t see ANY gators in swimsuits. The lucky bitches were all naked.

Turtle gator ride

Would you settle for a turtle taking a gator ride?

Finding hot guys on Marco Island is tough. I totally was a creeper and took this one, just for you. Closest I could find.

The back end of a hot guy

The back end of a [maybe] hot guy (also includes “that guy” and one of the “awkward people.”) Fuck, I’m awesome.

OK, fine. You asked for awkward people. As if that guy isn’t enough. And me taking a picture of those two guys. And really, me in general…I’m pretty fucking awkward. But fine.

And if that’s not enough for you, I went all the way. I randomly video’ed the beach just to show you how far I’m willing to go for you guys. Point out the awkward, hot, etc etc…BTW, the guy reading the book? Totally hot just because he was reading a book. That is all.

My mom wanted Brian and I by a palm tree…

Beach vacation

There are palm trees back there somewhere

I fucked up on the dolphin picture. So I didn’t really know how to work my camera on Day 1…when the fucking dolphins were 20-30 feet off the shore. Brian’s dad kept telling me to run in to swim with them (not understanding that I wanted to PAY money to swim with tame dolphins…not get raped by wild dolphins…)

So here are dolphins from last year.

Dolphin pictures

OK fine. This dolphin is from 2 years ago. You love me anyway, right?

You really don’t WANT to see the Flintstoes…but I’ll show ’em off anyways.

Things you didn’t ask to see, but I’ll show you for funsies:

So, Blog Friends, I’ve got a few more posts with random happenings from last week lined up, but based on the pictures above, what do YOU think happened on my vacation? Tell me a story. The funniest story wins a fabulous mystery prize. Ready. Set. Go.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Things I’ve Learned on Vacation…Mid-Vacay Edition

Hey Bloggy Friends! I’m still in sunny Florida. Don’t miss me too much. I wanted to pop in really quick to give a sneak peek into our trip. Here are just a few things I’ve learned this week.

image

1. It’s much better to appreciate and enjoy your vacation than document every second of it. So when I’m short several hundred photos, please don’t be sad.

2. There will ALWAYS be something you forget at home which results in a $75 trip to Walgreens, but thank God for Walgreens, right?

3. I should never eat pizza outside of Chicago, because no matter how ok it is, it’s not Chicago pizza.

4. When sunscreen says 80 minutes, they sort of mean business…when you spend 3 hours walking away from the sun you’re going to get your ass (well everything underneath it) burned.

5. Live sand dollars are fucking awesome. They’re purple and furry…except the furry part is all wiggly and awesome.

6. It’s really nice to blow dry my hair without blowing a fuse.

7. Beers to acquire: Big Rod Coconut Ale and Schofferhofer Grapefruit Hefeweizen.

8. Yelp rocks my Yelp Elite socks off. I’m 2 for 2 in restaurant selection. 

9. Eleanor and Park is my new favorite book.

10. I want to live in Florida.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Peace Out, My Bitches…This Girl’s Headed South for the Next Polar Vortex.

I hear there’s another Polar Vortex thing happenng in the Chi. Fuck that.

I’m on vacation until further notice. Or this weekend. One of those.

Quirky Chrissy at the beach

On Saturday, Brian and I jetted out of town to Marco Island to visit his dad and my dolphin brethren. (BTW, I’m totally writing this shit ON the plane. $8 to write you a blog post and play Simpson’s Tapped Out for the last time until next weekend seemed worth it.)

After waiting in an hour long TSA line, we made our way to the gate JUST in time to send a few instagram pictures for your viewing pleasure and slam and airport breakfast sandwich.

So, in the long wait in line, I found myself encouraging other people who were running SERIOUSLY late for their flight to cut their way to the front. This sweet elderly couple was the only pair that took me up on it, and I was glad for them, because it looked like they were barely going to make their flight.The best part was when the woman looked at me and said, “Well, if anyone gives me trouble, I’ll just pull the old lady card.”

I fucking love old people. I can’t wait to use the old lady card! I’m going to be so inappropriate.

Anyways, it reminded me of the mad dash I had on my way to NOLA in 2010 when the Drug Addict, who was driving my friend, brother and I to the airport made us ridiculously late for our flight. We literally had to do the Home Alone run through the airport, begging for passage through the long-ass TSA line. My friend wanted to kill me, and I wanted to kill the Drug Addict.

This time, the Chicago weather was to blame. Apparently flights were cancelled on Friday night, so everyone was trying to get through security at the same time. Total clusterfuck.

Marco Island Florida

Well, Blog Friends, have a wonderful week! I’ll try to check up on comments and make a video blog post to say hello from Florida.  I’m taking requests. What do you want to see in Southwest Florida?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

In Which Uncle Murphy Paid a Visit to the Girl Who Won’t Stop Bragging About Vacation…Which Starts Tomorrow.

And by Uncle Murphy, I mean the writer of Murphy’s Law. The bastard.

So yesterday, I started the morning with my usual dash to the train and had a few missteps. And once I passed those missteps, thought I was home free. So I Facebooked that shit. Because. You know…that’s what I do.

Crazy Commuter Morning


Note to self: Don’t post this shit on Facebook until the next day.

So I made it to the train; piece of cake. Stuff in tow. I sometimes get on the train on the back car and walk all the way to the front car. I like to be one of the first people off the train to avoid the Union Station cattle call. It’s a good thing. Usually.

As I made my way toward the front of the train, I started to unwrap the layers of warmth surrounding my body that were causing me to sweat. The train gets toasty when it’s full of people.

I sat down in the little vestibule like usual (So I don’t have to sit next to loud, annoying smelly people) and typed up my ordeal. As I started to re-layer up, I realized that my sweet Bears hat was missing. Somewhere between Car 137(this is a made up number FYI) and Car 1, I had dropped my warm and cozy hat. With a one-mile walk and a -20 degree windchill to look forward to. Awesome.

It’s okay, Christine (I call myself this, when I’m angry at self.) You’ve got the scarf and the face mask and the hood. It’s all going to be okay.

Winter 1: Chrissy 0

So I went on with my morning routine. Buttoned my coat, snapped my face mask, wrapped up my  sweet 12-foot scarf, slipped my glasses into my pocket and was on my way.

Doctor Who Scarf

Twelve glorious feet of scarf. More on that next week.

As I crossed the street just outside of Union Station, I slipped on a patch of ice. LUCKILY, I am a master of correcting myself so as not to fall. I know. I know. You’ve seen how many sweet spills I’ve taken. From spraining my ankle on a mountain to tripping over invisible wires to walking into No Parking signs…You can’t exactly call me Grace.

So I didn’t fall. Which is good, because if I had, I would have either A. face-planted into Adams street or B. gone backwards into the metal bridge dealie. But I screamed the obnoxious scream that usually scares the crap out of Brian.

Good work, Christine. You really sealed it with that one. It’s okay though. Let’s go find some breakfast.

I walked the cold walk to Pret, where I picked up a tasty little breakfast thingy with bacon (because all that matters is the bacon. Obvi.)

After Pret, it was only 3 blocks to the office, so I was almost there. I checked the time; things looked good.

We’re ready for the day. It won’t be that bad. You’ve got bacon. You can get a hat on your lunch break. Work’s going to fly by. And vacation is in 2 days. You can do it.

I stepped into my office building and started deconstructing my walk-wear. Because I was pretty blind when I walked (the face mask fogs up my glasses), one of the first things I did was pull out my glasses from my sweatpants pocket.

Well.

Part of my glasses anyways.

As I reached in to grab my specks, the motherfuckers cracked. Something about them being frozen and crackable made that the perfect moment to die.

“MOTHERFUCK!”

I’d like to tell you that I just thought that in my head. I really would.

But no. It came out in all it’s obnoxious glory. And the lovely security lady came to check on me, because I was visibly on the verge of a breakdown. She wanted to help. But she couldn’t. There was nothing anyone could do.

Glasses broke in half because of cold

FML. That’s about the end of that.

So I thanked her. And probably apologized, because I do that when I’m upset. And got into the elevator. Alone.

And then…I cried the ugly cry.

It started with a few Claire Danes sniffles and snorts, but then it went full-out bawling. I could NOT win this morning if I tried.

I crawled into my office, trying to hide my eyes, hoping that they were masked by the cold look everyone seemed to be wearing. I found the only secluded place I knew of in the open office and I just let it all out.

Eventually, I had one of my co-workers come rescue me and she even brought my SWEET work slippers. There’s something about sequined camo that makes the world seem just a little bit brighter.

Sequin Camo Slippers

I’m Polish, OK. So stop judging my holiday Minnie Mouse socks and camo slippers.

I was blind for the first half of my day, but picked up a set of contacts (after getting an unnecessary eye exam in order to get the free trial) and ordered some adorably sassy new specks. And then I remembered that vacation was only HOURS away now.

So here we are. 27 hours away from my flight outta this Frozen Tundra and after a week of vacation joy, I’m coming home to a new pair of specks, the Superbowl (Go Peyton! My LOVE!), the Olympics, house-hunting and so much more joy.

See, things can turn around for the better!

Have you ever had one of those days? Where you just can’t seem to catch a break? Tell me about it. No seriously, tell me about it.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Innocence is in the Eye of the Beholder…Especially in New Orleans

Welcome to this week’s edition of Monday Memories to Make You Laugh! Today, we’re using a quote prompt instead of an idea.

“I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald

Innocence. When did I lose my innocence? I bet you’re thinking about virginity right now…but I’m not.

  • I’m thinking about the time I went to the dance club, even though I wasn’t supposed to and had to sneak into the house.
  • Or the time I went away to college and started drinking heavily.
  • But maybe the real downward spiral of my innocence truly was my first trip to The Big Easy.

What Happens in N’awlins…

I was 19. At a conference in New Orleans. Pre-Katrina. With more than 2,000 college kids. My fraternity brothers. (Co-ed service fraternity, thank you very much.) The week between Christmas and New Years Day. Unsupervised vacation for the first time in my life. It was glorious. Here are my top three less than innocent moments from that trip.

New Orleans Bourbon Street

5. Experiencing Bourbon Street in all it’s boozy glory. Now I was in my sophomore year of college, so I was no stranger to liquor…But I definitely indulged in all sorts of deliciously potent concoctions. That I got at bars. And not from older friends. Yes, blog friends, I snuck my 19 year old self into several bars, and ordered booze without being carded at others.

4.  Acquiring beads. Hear me out. This was a little unorthodox…but it happened. Instead of the traditional way of earning beads (which I may or may not have done…), my girlfriend and I set up a team effort to help our favorite shy guy out. Now, this was a guy who stayed in a room full of 4 very open ladies who believed You’re a brother…you don’t count…as we walked around in our underwear. And he would run to the window and stare out politely, waiting for us to cover our lady bits. So Mel ran the camera while I yelled down to the lady that our dear gentlemanly friend chose. “Hey! You! You down there with the green shirt! Show us your titties!” And then Mel would pop out from behind our pal and snap a shot with his camera. And then he gave us beads.

1. My first viewing of man bits. And then my second viewing of man bits. Yep. There were dudes just as willing to show their junk as ladies showing their tatas. And one of my newfound lady friends was ALL over that shit. And yes. I was a sophomore in college who had never seen man bits. And so, innocent little Chrissy fell down a little rabbit hole of crazy.

New Orleans Karaoke

For more Monday Memories, or just because they are awesome, check out It’s a Dome Life and First Time Mom and Dad.

 Tell me about a loss of innocence memory that YOU have (and no, I REALLY don’t want to hear about how you, you know…lost IT…unless it’s hilarious. Then you can share with the class.)

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Brian Shares Saturday: February Quickie

Hey kids! My little sister is getting married today, so I don’t have much time…but I know you look forward to the sweet shit my boyfriend finds on the internet…

Surprise Vacation?

That was my response when Brian directed me to this Reddit discussion. He said no.

A Balinese Swim Resort

A Balinese Swim Resort

For Katie at Words for Worms

And everyone else…Brian said I should send this to Katie, but I figured that it would be much more appreciated by EVERYONE. Because it’s fucking adorable.

Baby Penguin

Free Books from Dolly Parton

COOL! Your kiddo can receive a free book every year from Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library until they are 5 years old. I think this is awesome, as I tend to buy kids books instead of cool toys… Or sometimes in addition to cool toys. 🙂

Cheshire Cat

Knowing my adoration for Chesh, Brian sent me this sweet little Cheshire Cat Image…

Cheshire Cat

Sweet Sweet Love Note

Sassy Love Note

Brian sent this, because 1. It is hilarious and 2. I would write that to him except replace Sprite with Ginger Ale. He is always drinking my Ginger Ale! And then it’s gone when I want it!

My Valentine

For those of you who don’t follow me on Facebook or Twitter, I added the fancy valentine that I made for Brian. And the one I made for my lady friends. And the awesome Brian picture of awesomeness that was revealed at our dinner date…

My Valentine to Brian

My Valentine to Brian

The Valentine for all of my lady friends

The Valentine for all of my lady friends

Brian snuck the tuxedo tee-shirt to dinner and revealed it when I least expected it. As if you didn't already love him!

Brian snuck the tuxedo tee-shirt to our “romantic” dinner and revealed it when I least expected it. As if you didn’t already love him!

That’s all kids! You should wish my sister happy congratulations today!

 

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

In Which I Annoyed the Crap Out of 138 Souls, 6 Flight Attendants, a Pilot, Plus 4 Lap Children on a Small-ish Aircraft

I remember the day that The Bloggess starting following me on Twitter like it was yesterday. I was stoked. I mean, she’s the freakin’ BLOGGESS! And she’s funny. And her blog makes me laugh. But it took me a while to read her book. In the end, I couldn’t put it down. I finally finished.

Flight to Florida

Last week, Brian and I made our way back to Florida for another fun-filled vacation of joy in which I did a whole lot of awesome things when Brian wanted to be sleeping. But this post isn’t about our trip. This post is about airplanes. And The Bloggess (Jenny Lawson). And her book, Let’s Pretend this Never Happened.

On our flight down, I was reading a book that I was less than impressed with (and will not name) because I wanted to finish it before getting back to laughing hysterically at the one and only Jenny Lawson. I was stuck in the middle seat next to a larger older lady who took up her seat, half of my seat and some of the aisle. Needless to say I was not pleasantly seated for the 3 hour flight.

Not only did Bitchy McBitch feel the need to take up half of my seat, she also glared at me. Like I was spewing poison from my left cheek or something. Sure I was sitting up, leaning on my tray, but that was only because I needed somewhere to rest my arthritic, carpal tunneled wrist and she was in my way.

I feel that it’s important to say here that people who are stuck in the middle seat should be granted BOTH fucking arm rests. Also, people who recline their seats on airplanes are ass hats.

But we landed safely.

On our flight back, on the other hand, I had an excellent seat. I went in with a plan. My seating on Southwest was about 60 people before Brian, so I got on, and made my way to the very back of the plane, where the flight attendants informed me that there were 175 seats and 139 purchased. (I also overheard them say that there were 4 lap children. I’m not making shit up, people.) I sat down, and reserved the two other seats in our row.

When Brian arrived, I took the aisle, and he took the window. No one was going to come all the way to the back to sit in a middle seat. It was a brilliant plan. Once we were in the air, I scooted over and snuggled up against a sleeping Brian. Then I started to read.

Let's Pretend this Never Happened by Jenny Lawson

Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: A Book Review

When I told the world that I was going to read this book, the world responded with a resounding “OMFG this book is amazing!”

I’m not going to lie, though. It took me a few chapters to get into it. I totally get that the strange happenings in Lawson’s life made her the brilliant and funny writer that she is, I just couldn’t really get into the Wall, Texas thing. I didn’t totally relate. I had heard there was laugh out loud humor…but I longed for a little Chelsea Handler…until…

Jenny Lawson grew up (sort of). And found Victor. And started making me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. Twice.

Once the Bloggess grew up, I found that I wanted her to be my new best friend (Don’t worry Katie–you’re irreplaceable). I would be reading in bed and Brian would tell me to quiet down, for fear of waking our neighbors (like seriously, not jokingly.)

So there we were on the plane with 142 other souls ( I think it’s entertaining to say souls instead of people. Does anyone know why they did/do that? Please enlighten me!) and I was reading. And laughing. And reading. And laughing more. And every time I laughed, I looked at Brian and if he was awake, I made him read the paragraph that made me laugh. Or I would wake him up to tell him. Or I would just look to see if my laughter woke him up. And then I looked around to see if anyone was silently judging me. Which they were. But I didn’t care because Jenny Lawson is hilarious.

She talks about being weird and kind of an outsider (which I can TOTALLY relate to). She talks about being a writer and a blogger and a daughter and a woman in a relationship with her person and a mom. Minus the mom part, I totally get it. And I feel like she’s one of my people.

I love that she interjects with comments about her editor. I love the randomness that the book is created out of. I love it all. And I bet if I went back and read that first part, I would love that too.

And the whole time, Brian would wake up and comment that I needed to be quiet because the captain at the front of the plane could hear me laughing.

Jenny Lawson, welcome to my hero club. You have 142 “souls” to apologize to, because I was all up in their business during that 3 hour flight with my echoing laughter. They really should just read your book, and then they would totally get it.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Get Drunk and Hug Inanimate Dolphins in Tuxedoes and Other Sordid Tales

The Dolphin

For some reason, there are random dolphin statues all over Marco Island. Last year, I got drunk on fruity cocktails, and hugged this guy:

Dolphin statues

Dolphin statues

Hugging dolphins

This year was no different.

dolphin love dolphin love dolphin love dolphin love

Of course, a lot more than drunken dolphin hugging happened…

I Hate TSA

If you remember from our trip to Disney World last September, with the drama of the skunk (actually, go read that. Right. Fucking. Now. Because it’s an awesome story. I’ll wait.) I have a packing problem. Not that I pack too much, but that it takes me a really fucking long time to pack things properly…And then TSA fucks it all up. So after I spent hours packing for Marco, I wrote TSA a little note.

A Letter to TSA

A Letter to TSA And you’ll never guess whose suitcase they checked this time…Brian’s! I think that they opened mine, and though Fuck That…we’ll open the other one. SUCCESS!

The Injuries

It wouldn’t be a Chrissy trip if injuries weren’t involved. Yes, I managed to carve several gashes into both of my feet, slit my wrist, slice up my hand, burn random designs into my body, and die of dysentery a la The Oregon Trail because I couldn’t carry the whole buffalo back to my covered wagon. OK, maybe not that last one. But I did tame a giant albino boa constrictor with my bare hands. (That one may be a bit of an exaggeration.)

OK, so the gashes (at least 5 in each foot) may or may not have come from the beachy shells stuck in my pink Walmart water shoes that have braved rivers, lakes, and oceans…Apparently when you let the ocean wash into your shoes, you shouldn’t walk like 5 miles in them. Just a word of advice…

 

Gashes on my feet

Ignore the Polish cankles and the Flintstoes (Flintstone toes) for just a minute to admire the colorful bandaids…More cuts ensued…It was not fun.

And the slicing up of my hand…Apparently you shouldn’t put your hand under water in the ocean feeling around for shells. One just might bite you.  Or three…

Stupid injuries

Slitting my wrist? I think that wine glass tried to kill me! I was drying the wine glasses when I must have been drying a little too hard. The next thing I know, I’ve got a stem in one hand and a foot in the other…and the wrist near the foot of the glass is gushing blood from the broken stem jabbing mighty hard into my wrist.

Cut wrist with a wine glass

I had a picture of the cut itself, which is ugly as fuck, but I decided not to do that to you guys. Do you like my Mickey band-aids?

This is how to properly burn one’s self in the most random designs imaginable. Let the water of the ocean rush all up in your leg business and forget to reapply the sunscreen.

Ridiculous sunburn Ridiculous sunburn

Braving the “Wild” Animals in the Everglades (ish)

I was bullied. Seriously bullied into a snake around my neck. And an alligator in my hands. You can see the fear in my eyes.

Wild animals at skunk ape research facility

He protects me from beasts.

Wild animals at skunk ape research facility

I was bullied into wearing this snake like a scarf. Brian kept saying they felt like good boots.

Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility Wild animals at skunk ape research facility

Wild animals at skunk ape research facility

He liked me…

In Which I Said “Hi” From the Beach During My Sand Dollar Hunt

I had been out since 7 AM (sunrise), but I took a break from sand dollar hunting to say hello to my blog friends! Also, I feel goofy on video.

In total, I found about 50 sand dollars that I brought home with me. Some cracked along the way, but holy crap. They call it sand dollar spit for a reason.

Sand dollar hunt Sand dollar hunt Sand dollar hunt

In Which I Promoted Quirky Chrissy

Quirky Chrissy at the beach

Want more Chrissy? I wrote a Top 10 List over on my side blog…The Top 10 Most Frustrating Book Characters.

I missed you, guys. Even though I was off social media for 6 days, I thought about you! What did you do while I was gone, blog friends?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Monday Memories: Vacation? Or Hell? But James Van Der Beek was there!

Everyone’s got at least one “vacation” that wasn’t a vacation at all. I, of course, have several. My mom probably thinks that I’m going to write about the worst vacation ever, which is also known by me as the worst Thanksgiving ever…but I’ll save that gem for another time. (Love you mom!)

This is one that we all look back on and think. Wow. Just freakin’ wow.

I was 15. A sophomore in high school. It was Spring Break, and we were going on vacation! We had gone to Florida the previous Spring Break (my 3rd visit of now 8 trips to the Sunshine State). That was the magical trip in which we named our dog, Buck, where we ventured through Disney World, traveled to the west coast and spent half our vacation beach side. My sophomore year, though, no Disney  World or beachy ocean view for us. There’d be lots of sand…but no beach.

I heard they called it The Desert.

We were off to Arizona, land of the sun. No rain. No snow. No oceany watery goodness. Just sand. Lots and lots of sand. Mom’s best friend had moved out there with her family, so we were going to visit them. Even at the airport, Brian (my brother), Dad and I stared longingly at the Florida departure gates.

Mom had heard about the beauty of Arizona, and was the only one who was really excited about the trip.

Here are the highlights:

  • I had given up pizza for lent. On the Friday night we were there, my family decided that it was a brilliant idea to order pizza for dinner at the hotel. I walked to the Cracker Barrel next door so I could pick up food that I could eat.  The smell of pizza made me wish I wasn’t Catholic.
  • When Mom and I went to breakfast one morning, James Van Der Beek, or his damn well doppelganger was sitting a few tables away from us…I kept staring, and he even smiled at me. (This was at the very beginning of Dawson’s Creek, when all of my peers were obsessed with the teen heartthrob).
  • That same day, some of my parents’ friends from Chicago were also on vacation in Arizona, and came to our hotel to spend the afternoon poolside with us. Imagine my surprise when James Van Der Beek was someone’s son! I was this awkward 15 year old, talking to this beautiful older boy. I’m almost sure I made an ass of myself.
  • After getting a raging sunburn during the aforementioned super hot poolside afternoon, it rained. And then it snowed. IN FUCKING ARIZONA. Where it never rains. Let alone snows. Especially when one is sunburned.
  • I climbed a mountain. Yes. Me. Klutzy. Crazy. Falls down like a boss. Me. I got all the way to the top of Camelback Mountain. I was a proud Chrissy. I rocked. Even though I only had sandals…and had to wear socks with them. And looked ridiculously stupid. I climbed a flippin’ mountain. And then I got all the way down the mountain. And there were stairs for the last leg of the journey. And at the very bottom stair…I sprained my fucking ankle. Like a boss.
arizona camelback mountain

Note the sandals with socks. I brought an entire suitcase full of shoes and not one pair of gym shoes…

What about you, Bloggie Friends? Any vacay memories that you’d like to share with me? I’d love to hear them!

Join in the fun! Blog your memories and grab the button!

This week’s participants are

Monday Memories

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!