In Which I No Longer Have To Listen To Kevin From North Dakota Rap His Way Drunkenly Through "Baby Got Back."

Hear that?

Hear what, Kathryn?

That.

We don't know what you're talking about. Remember? We don't live with you. We're your internet friends.

Oh. Well, then I'll be more specific.

It's the beautiful silence that comes from NO LONGER HAVING TO LISTEN TO ANY MORE CRUISE SHIP ENTERTAINERS WARBLE OUT BAD RENDITIONS OF "I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU."

I had a great time, truly, but I had to get that off of my chest. My tan chest. Southern Belle Boob looks fabulous. British Boob too, though a little less so, as he tended to be shaded by the book I was reading. Oh well.

Things I learned while away:

The urge to travel to distant places and buy t-shirts that say things like,

"I've lost the hair, but I've still got the huge dick: Cozumel, Mexico"

is perhaps the most mysterious of all of mankind's many, many mysterious urges.


Ditto to white teenage girls getting their hair braided with those colored plastic beads a la Bo Derek in that movie that is like the only movie I think Bo Derek ever made. The one where she's in that gold swimsuit looking all hot and exotic and awesome in her plastic-colored-bead hair THAT NO ONE ELSE EVER LOOKS GOOD IN OR HAS EVER LOOKED GOOD IN SINCE TIME BEGAN.


Everything tastes better served in a pineapple.


Pretty much all of popular music can be divided in two categories: Karaoke Songs That Rock and Karaoke Songs That People Should Just Stop Singing Now And Never Sing Again Or I Will Find Them And Cut Them, And I Mean It For Real So Don't Fuck With Me On This. Songs in the former category include pretty much any song that gives the karaok-ier ample time for air guitar and drunken jumping. Songs in the latter category include any song in which Celine Dion talks about her heart.


At a certain age, all men must be required to buy a braided leather belt. A braided leather belt, to a man over forty-five, is, it seems, the only kind of belt worth having.


There is such a thing as "too tan."


If aliens ever come to Earth, and we can't figure out how to talk to them, and we're all just standing around in a big circle around their ship feeling all awkward, and strange, like there's so much to say, but we just don't know how...

...someone should probably just start doing The Electric Slide. I'm fairly certain the aliens will join in.