you know how when someone you know gets back from vacation and tells you how great it was, and how relaxing it was, and blah, blah, blah?

lies…all lies. here, dear readers, is how most vacations really go down.

the fantasy: plan relaxing vacation away from kids.                      
the reality: realize that as tempting as it may be to leave an 11- and an 7-year-old home alone, this is ill advised, and the last couple from houston that did this had the po-po welcome wagon at the airport waiting for them when they deplaned. instead, bribe grandparents with offer of free accommodations in exchange for babysitting duties.

the fantasy: first day of trip plan on hitting the pool for an hour or so and then getting cleaned up and going out for a nice dinner.
the reality: start drinking in airport bar at 9am and continue on plane to calm “flying nerves.” hit pool by noon and immediately belly up to the swim-up bar. after having a few drinks and becoming best friends with the couple vacationing from jersey, decide getting cleaned up is a big hassle and allow kids to order $10 hamburgers from pool bar menu. miss dinner completely. after sobering up the next day, determine eating at the hotel is way too expensive. for the remainder of the trip drag family to local eating establishments with kid’s menus containing colors not found in nature and the zoomorphic depiction of breakfast entrees, exacerbating involuntary gag reflex already in effect from tequila hangover.

(click on menu to enlarge)

short people with you appear to not be effected. 

the fantasy: pace self to get “healthy” tan.
the reality:forget to apply sunscreen due to first-day-partying inebriated state and pass out in deck chair. spend first night watching the matrix, the matrix reloaded, the matrix revolutions, and starship troopers on mexican tv due to inability to sleep because of sunbun. waste next two days hiding under umbrella.            

the fantasy: come  back from vacation rested and ready to work.
reality: take late flight home to “take advantage of” final day at beach. pop two xanax on flight home, rendering self useless for assisting with herding children though airport and carrying luggage to car. sleep on drive home, waking up long enough to crawl into bed. wake up in a fog at dark thirty and drive to work with xanax hangover. spend useless day in office with door shut researching all-inclusive resorts for xmas vacation on internet.

oh, and because i’ve deluded myself into thinking that some of you are actually interested about me as a person, i’ve made a little slide show of my vacation photos. enjoy! 

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you know what amuses me most about traveling? it’s the little things.

i think i’ve discovered my dream job – translating foreign menus into english for the tourists. with me on the job, then the following would never happen:

i didn’t even know they were separated.

apparently in mexico when you get divorced you have to sit on a pile of warm refried beans and be covered in some chopped up broccoli. this may actually be preferable to the way it happens in the states, where they hand you your ass on a platter. and it’s hella cheaper too – only $100 bones, mexican.

plus, i’m not sure about you, but my “typical” breakfast never had anything remotely to do with chicken.

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i hate to pilfer from a fellow blogger, but i just got back from mexico and i need to rant a little.

it’s been a really long summer, and i have spent the last few weeks looking forward to doing nothing but lying in the sun and getting stinking canned.

i’ve been to quite a few tropical getaways, including cozumel, playa del carmen, belize, grand cayman, jamaica, bahamas, the virgins (british and US) plus a few others whose names escape me now, so i know my way around a caribbean bender. but i have to say, cancun may take the cake, scenery-wise. here, see for yourself.

 (click to make it bigger)

however, it saddens me to say that without a doubt, i also had the most heinous margaritas in my whole life there too.

first there was senor frogs. i guess they thought they were dealing with some drinking virgins from nebraska. but me and the hubs are seasoned drinkers from texas. i spent *ahem* eight years going to the university of texas (hook ’em!), and the hubs went to the now-defunct southwest texas state university (which had a club that featured a $5 all-you-can-drink night) and his grades were so bad, his parents pulled him out and made him finish at UT san antonio. so yeah, we can put ’em down.

if you’re in party mode, you might be tempted by the offer of the margarita by the yard. but don’t be stupid. this giant plastic tube only has the same amount of alcohol as one shot.

the hubs actually asked them if it was a virgin drink.

plus this thing cost $150! pesos that is, but you know what? if i’m going to spend the approximate equivalent of $15 on a margarita, i expect to be taken home in a freaking shopping cart, like that chick from animal house.

second – never, EVER, go to mexico, unless you stay at an all inclusive resort. they say life is full of learning experiences, but during vacation shouldn’t be one of them. at our place, the only time the drinks were a deal was during the happy hour (literally – it from from 3 to 4) when drinks were 2 for 1, which basically meant you were getting two sub-par margaritas for the price of one.

the last word: go to the liquor store and drink warm tequila shots from your beach bag all afternoon. or just sneak it in a water bottle and spike your crappy drinks like my mom did. she’s a smart lady.

now, here’s the best margarita on the planet, the oh-so-delicious and descriptively named mexican flag. lime, strawberry, and midori flavored margarita lovingly layered in a hurricane glass and served for a mere $6.95, american. two’s not enough and three is WAYYYYY too many. complete pie-eyed euphoria for less than $21. take that you stupid frog.

let me know if you’re coming. i’m buying.

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men and women are so different (and not just because boys have “peanuts” and girls have “china”).

the other night after a “disagreement” the hubs said the following:

“sometimes i wish i could just strap a d*ck on you so we could just beat the crap out of each other on friday, and on monday we would be best of friends and forget anything ever happened.”

hmmmm….yeah honey, i think that would make me feel a whole lot better too.

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recently, i told you guys a story about my sister, dr. laura, catapulting a VW rabbit off a small cliff and lodging it mid-air between some oak trees.

after the post my mom sent me an email, in which she gave me the lowdown on the whole incident, including the curious lack of explosive retribution from my dad, and thoughtfully included the details of some of our other vehicular exploits.

i thought you might enjoy reading them, especially if you thought i was exaggerating, because i so was not. my commentary is in blue.

…

Leigh, you thought nothing happened, but it was behind the scenes.

The VW was a brand new car. Laura had earned her driver’s license exactly ONE WEEK before, and she asked Dad if she could take the car and drive a bunch of her friends out to a friend’s ranch for the afternoon. He said yes. When I found out, I was mad and told him she didn’t have enough experience to be allowed to take a BRAND NEW CAR out with a bunch of friends!

We had a row about it. He huffed and puffed and got mad at ME for disagreeing with him. So when Laura wrecked the car, he couldn’t say anything, because I TOLD HIM NOT TO LET HER TAKE THE CAR. And I was too smart to say I TOLD YOU SO.  It wasn’t really necessary, anyway. And I didn’t say anything, because “I told you so” would have just set off another disagreeable row.  He knew I was right, anyway.

ahhh! the power of “i told you so.” it all makes perfect sense now.

There are other car adventures.  What about the Mav? 

the “Mav” was a 1974, solid steel, ford maverick. a virtually indestructible, hand-me-down of an american tank from our dad, tricked out in lovely 1970s champagne gold body paint, a brown vinyl roof, reclining bucket seats (hubba), and a V8 engine that allowed it to haul ass (which we did).

dad loved that car, but at the time i don’t think we truly appreciated it for its muscle car stylings. we thought it was fugly. hey, most of our friends were driving europeon imports. we drove that poor car into the ground, and i think it was finally donated to goodwill for a tax deduction. 

in retrospect, i must admit it was a genius move on dad’s part, although i’m not sure it was intentional. i plan to buy my kids a cheap heap and only carry liability. check out the vintage 70s commercial. maverick, maverick, maverick, maverick!!!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2D2F2fjaHE&feature=related (try the link if the video looks weird)

apparently mavericks were HUGE in mexico. 

Dad had the fender repaired the first time you dented a fender.  By the time the last girl was driving, he’d just take a hammer out to the driveway and pound on the fender until it wasn’t rubbing the tire. Sessie said the Mav was kind of famous at Austin High by the time the third girl drove it. 

And the time someone tried to get the car out of the driveway with another car parked behind it.  I can’t remember who it was anymore, the incidents just all blend together.

ok, this one goes to sessie. quoth she, “the mav once got into a fight with the front of our house and won.” she said she thought it would be the opposite of trying to parallel park.

The car hit the edge of the house and knocked a chunk of stones out.  Much cursing and a wheelbarrow full of cement later, you can still make out the patch after 20 years.

yep. they just don’t make cars like that anymore.

And the time someone backed out and turned too sharply. 

oops. guilty as charged. i’m also the only one to take out 2 family cars in one incident.

The left front fender hit the right rear fender of Dad’s car parked in the driveway.  Two cars at once.  Dad was apoplectic.  He pulled his billfold out of his pocket and slammed it down on the driveway.  I guess that’s symbolic.

i’m sure this was just the first of many wallet-slamming episodes. we hadn’t even gone to college yet.

…

mom, thanks so much for sharing. i haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. i wonder if dad will find this quite as amusing.

p.s. mom, if you going to comment my blog, you need to go ahead and sign up for HB so you can vote for me.  you too, sessie.

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the city of houston just spent millions of dollars increasing interstate 10 to an amazing 10 lanes wide total NOT including some extra lanes for HOV and toll traffic which haven’t even opened yet.

i was rejoicing this morning as i began my commute. it’s only about 30 miles, but driving from suburban houston into the galleria area can take well over an hour on a really bad day.

because all lanes were finally open, all i could think was “sweet! i should be there in less than 30 minutes.”  ahhhh, thinking. that’s exactly what my problem is.

look people, we know the speed limit is….you know, i’m not really sure what it is. 

AND i don’t freaking care!!! it’s 6am and if i want to go 80 mph (and believe me i do) it is not YOUR JOB to keep everyone going 65 or whatever the freaking hell the speed limit is!

there’s 5 freaking lanes. get your slow mofo-going-60 mph-ass over in the far right hand lane. lead, follow, or get the eff out of the way!!

i don’t consider myself a violent person, but this morning, i reallllly wish i had some of these:

rant over. that is all.
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