Get comfortable, kids.
There are two things I'd like to say, right off the bat:
First: oh my bloggy friends, I've missed you! Have you missed me? WAIT--who just said they didn't realise I was gone? Meh, whatever. GROUP HUG, EVERYONE, GROUP HUG.
Second: I think someone should form a benevolent sort of organisation whose sole purpose would be to keep little jerk kids who never, ever, ever seem to be too tired EVER out of burnt-out parents' hair for a whole day immediately upon returning from a family vacation. I'd pay for that.
Because, seriously: when you've just returned from a week of endless activity, and you're up to your a$$hole in dirty laundry, shouldn't you be allowed to have just one freaking day to not worry that the little %&#*'s are IMMEDIATELY bored, and just alternate between naps, self-rehydration and washing all that sand-choked stuff you brought home in great, sweaty bags?
Oh wait, I was supposed to be all refreshed. I kind of am, but it's been a long day.
We just spent the week renting a lovely vacation trailer/home from a local family, in a little resort town not too far away. We've actually been renting trailers in this place since Jack was two. And when I say "trailer," don't think of some baked out, super boring trailer park with one rusty swing set, a green pool, and a bird-crapped picnic table. This place is nice with great beaches, a swimmable quarry, a total rip-off family FUNPLEX (complete with swimming pool, terrifying water slides and bullsh*t arcade), and everyone zips around on battery--powered golf carts.
I've mentioned this before. I even blogged an entire long-winded vacation journal last summer, in which I complained ENDLESSLY about the trailer we stayed in. It was a) super gungy and b) CHOCK FULL O'SPIDERS. By the end of the week I was so angry about the freakish amounts of spiders that I lost it a bit. Blah, blah, blah, read about it or not. You won't hurt my feelings. I think I'll give it a read after I clack this out, for comparison to this year, and because I amuse myself people. I'm all I have. Don't judge me.
Anyhoo, the trailer was super nice this year. I coveted the trailer kitchen. Let's face it. It was much nicer than my c.1950's bullcrap kitchen, with literally 12 inches of counter space and single sink. Now I have to rant:
karen's rant about having only one kitchen sink
Okay, does anyone know just what a pain in the ass it is to only have one sink, and not a super convenient double sink? Say you're right in the middle of washing the dishes, but there's that stupid pot of CORN ON THE COB WATER sitting on the stove:
Say you're washing the dishes but there's that disgusting combined glass of those last un-drunk (undrank?) beverages the kids left behind, that you combined into one glass, so now it's a curdled cocktail of orange juice and chocolate milk. Where do you dump it?
here endeth this rant.
Yeah, the kitchen was super nice with a ceramic tiled floor, really good sink and good appliances. Sigh. Dreamy.
Anyhoo, the lady who owned the trailer had a journal there, which anyone renting at the time could write in about how WÜNDERBAR their vacation was. You know, your basic sop:
Thank you so much for letting us stay in your trailer! Our family had a wonderful time! We loved swimming at the beach and the corey [sic] ! We hope to come back next year!
So many exclamation points it made my eyes bleed.
I didn't write anything, because mostly I was either a) swimming, or b) asleep by 10:30 from all the swimming. If I had writ up an entry in her journal, it may have gone a little something like this......
karen's 2011 Journal
Thank you for letting us stay in your trailer. It's nicer than my house in some ways, which is sad considering it's just your vacation home. Anyhoo, I have discovered that your cream coloured toilet, marbly brown ceramic tile floor and sand speckly sink made me nearly want to weep with how well they hide man-hairs, pee spots and general filth. I'd like to give a small re-cap of the hi-lights of our week:
Let's face it, day 1 sucked big hairy moose c*cks--pardon the crudeness of expression. The Man drove all of our stuff up to the trailer first because we have a stupid too-small car still, and then he came back to get all of us. We happily hopped into the car, and the 30 minute drive passed by pleasantly. We'd just started to unwind, and The Man even took his shirt off, because HELL, he was on vacation! when Jack said:
The Man: "Didn't you pack Dave?"
Me: "NO I PACKED EVERYTHING ELSE"
The Man put his shirt back on, hopped into the car and said; "well, see you in an hour." Which turned out to be an hour and a HALF. I know this, because the last half hour went a little something like this:
"WHERE'S DADDY? I NEED DADDY! OH! DADDY'S NEVER COMING BACK! I WANT TO SWIM. DAD'S TAKING FOREVER! IS HE COMING YET? WHY ISN'T HE COMING? I'M HOT! WHEN IS DAD GONNA GET HERE?"
Oh, and the best part is when somebody from the trailer next door came careening past the front of our place on their golf cart, nearly hit the side of the house and drove over the lid for the fire pit, and I had to go over there and get all MOM-ISH on their asses.
The Man returned finally with a bucket of KFC (bless you, Colonel). Then we got our bathing suits on and went to the quarry for a swim. But first, the keys. The Man was a little concerend as to where we should keep the key chain with the trailer and golf cart keys. I shrugged;
"Just put them on your bathing suit string. Tie it in a good double knot. They'll stay on."
Happily swimming....and then...
The Man: "SHOOT!!!! The keys came off!"
I was in no mood by this point. We had no change in our bag, no cell phones, no phone number of how to reach the owners. The vacation was almost over before it began.
So, I took matters into my own hands: "KIDS. GO TO SHORE." I searched around for less than a minute and found those keys. Damn straight I found those keys.
And then I was completely burnt out. My favourite was the next day when I told this story to my Dad, who was staying nearby in another trailer. The Man interjected and said;
"you didn't say 'DOUBLE KNOT!'"
I know, you're confused right now. You think he's not very bright perhaps. He's very bright, but there's no explaining THAT. I told him that even if I didn't say the words "double knot," which I did, it shouldn't matter. You should tie so many knots around those f*ckers that when it comes time to get back up on the golf cart, you actually have to take your FREAKING BATHING SUIT OFF in order to drive, because you can't get through ALL THOSE KNOTS.
OH SWEET MOTHER OF KAKA, WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?
Wow, isn't that interesting? That sickening, gag-able stench is ONLY in the exact section where our trailer is! No, it's nowhere else in the whole park, and we know, because we've driven around. We are fortunate enough to be near the part of the beach that kind of comes in like a bit of a cove. Nobody is allowed to swim there because there are two many rocks, and maybe the under-tow is worse or whatever, and guess what: piles upon piles upon piles of seaweed (yeah, it's a lake, so call it water plants if you want) are stuck there ROTTING.
I defy ANYONE to name a worse smell than rotting seaweed. It's like poop if it married sulfer and took a honeymoon at the dump. It went straight through your nose and coated the back of your throat.
We decided to leave the air conditioners off that night because where they are located means we were FREEZING. Two window air conditioners; one beside each bed.
I forgot one crucial thing: I hate the heat. I hate being hot. I hate being sweaty (unless I'm all liquored up--then, bring it on). It was 27 degrees in the trailer. The computer is telling me this is 80.6 degrees F, my American friends. I think I nearly lost my mind that night. The heat nearly broke me. Let us speak of this oven sleep no more. It's too painful.
My sister finally arrives with her little family! Hooray! We get to gab endlessly about bad humidity hair, those girls on the beach with the IMPOSSIBLE KNOCKERS, and back fat. Yay for sisters!
Oh yeah, Jack broke the kick pedal on the bottom of the garbage can.
Asleep by 10:32 pm. Rock on.
The Man's parents and brother came down for a visit. It rained NEARLY ALL DAY, so we tried to go swimming while my mother-in-law sat shivering under a towel on the beach. Then we tried to go swimming at the quarry and thunder chased us out. We got back to the trailer and it stopped raining, but The Man forgot to charge the golf cart the night before and it was completely out of juice.
This filled me with good, old fahioned WIFELY RAGE, so sadly, when The Man came into the little kitchen to see if he could help me, the convo went like this:
The Man: "Would you like me to do anything?"
Me: "yeah, THINK!!!!!!!"
I'm not proud, but whatever.
Super tired of THE STANK. Have decided I am cursed, and that is why THE STANK is only in my section of the whole vast park. Still, managed to get completely snookered thanks to Dad bringing his fancy liqueur over for COCKTAIL TIME. COCKTAIL TIME, incidentally, is my favourite part of any vacation. Dad didn't get snookered, because he left to go have dinner. Once karen is on the PARTY TRAIN, karen does not GET OFF the PARTY TRAIN until she is forced to, but I still managed to swim to the rope and back at the quarry, BITCHES, and so what if the water is 30 feet deep at that point?
I'M A ROCK STAR.
Worst day of all: the water park.
I hate water parks. They are super noisy, some jerk kid is always splashing water into my eyes, and I get so, so, so tired of having other peoples' hair stuck to me. Plus, somehow I got duped into going down the water slide, despite being completely lacking of any kind of back bone.
My sister went first.
My niece, second.
I won't speak at length of how FREAKING TERRIFYING IT WAS, or how I almost fell over backward from my conservative sitting-up position, and I bashed my knuckle on the side of the slide when my arms flailed out. I also won't talk about the laughter and the delight from everyone at the bottom of the slide witnessing my bloodless, horrified face before I plugged my nose and got ungracefully dumped off my mat like a sack of potatoes at the bottom.
Things improved slightly when The Man bought me a $6 piña colada, but I had a wicked headache and a sunburn after that.
And so now our vacation is over. Another few weeks of this and I've have been in ROCKIN' SHAPE.
Ah well, maybe next year.
How have all of YOU been???