Too stoned!

Never been stoned while blogging…

To be clear, I’m high on cough syrup. I have the plague and so the doctor sent me home with enough drugs to dope up LSU’s entire team to the point of letting Notre Dame win…

Anyway, according to the label on my cough syrup it is a federal crime to give the medicine to anyone but me. I tell you this for several reasons: 1. to impress upon you how severe this bout with the plague is 2. to make you wonder how concerned the government really is about my cough medicine when we have things like this going on 3. and apparently there were only a few reasons, not several, but I’m too lazy to go back an edit.

So I usually come back from the holiday break with a plethora or stories to tell you, a glut of anecdotes if you will, and this year is no different.

It begins…

I have been fortunate enough in my small time here on earth to have traveled to many places. I have traveled both internationally and domestically. I have traveled by myself. I have traveled in groups ranging from two to SEVENTY-FIVE people. In my lifetime, I have never traveled with anyone as annoying as my own father. He really might the worst traveler in history.

Despite waking up before all of us on the morning in question, he is still the last one ready to leave the house. He is one of THOSE people. I seem to be surrounded by THESE people. THESE people are those who have seemingly normal “getting ready” routines and yet somehow move so slowly it boggles the mind that they ever learned to read or graduated from middle school. My boyfriend is one of THESE people. My best friend is one of THESE people. THESE people drive me up a wall…but I digress. So he leaves the house grumbling about being later -- mind you, we are not late, we are not even in the realm of tardy, and yet my father has already begun dooming us verbally to miss our flight. I ignore him, this is typical Dad stuff, right? Fine, I’m ignoring him…

Until we get to security.

We’re in line, waiting…waiting…waiting.

“Sarah, are you going to zip your purse?”

“No Dad, it’s big and bulky and zippering it will be annoying”

“Sarah, you need to zipper it.”

“Leave me alone Dad.”

“You’re a WALKING TARGET for pickpockets.”

“Dejame tranquila, por favor!!!” [Leave me alone, PLEASE]

At this point, people are looking so he leaves me alone…

For five minutes.

“Sarah, I think you should zipper it for when it goes through the X-Ray”

“OH. MY. GOD. ::ZIP!:: ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!”

“Yes, yes I am.”

Some observations:

1. My bag is obviously the tote bag kind that NO ONE zips. Also, do you think that if my valuables were in any way easily accessible and not at the BOTTOM of the huge bag, that I would be so cavalier about it? Of course not.

2. THERE ARE NO PICKPOCKETS IN THIS FREAKING AIRPORT. But if there were, can we please talk about how you are so narrowed in on MY BAG that NO ONE will get within thirty feet of it. Thanks.

3. I’ve done this before, probably more times than you. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

I swear to you, if I didn’t think it would have caused a scene I would’ve turned to him and said, “See you at the gate.”

So now you think maybe he will calm down after the flight, but you’re wrong, because as we’re driving toward Jackie’s house, he begins to GIVE HER DIRECTIONS. She LIVES there.

I begin to hack up my soul somewhere in these next twelve hours. It’s unclear to me what happened exactly.

Jackie and I had a heart warming exchange two days later. It went something like this:

“Sarah, your hair is oily, you look gross”

(This is after I’ve spent the last day and a half in bed, dying.)

“Leave me alone.”

“And your face looks gross.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have mascara under your eyes. You look gross.”

“You’re just jealous because I look better than you right now.”

“You look like Rudolph; your nose is all red.”

“I’ve been blowing it non-stop. But I think you’re just sad because I have a cute nose, and you have that large appendage on your face.”

“Whatever, I’m prettier than you.”

At this point we just both dissolve into laughter. This little conversation def happened in front of eight other people. We don’t care. We’re vicious. But we LOVE each other! We really do, that wasn’t sarcasm…

Some other quality quotes:

“Why is your mouth moving? What are you eating?” ~All of us at some point

“Wanna see Jeannine cry? Watch…watch” ~Jackie

“He brought a showerhead with him! He is a GUEST! He should not bring ANYTHING to fix the water pressure in the house where he is a GUEST.” ~My mom

“Who is James Brown?” ~Jackie

Well, that is all for now. I am too doped up on meds to continue this post any further. Tune in next time for more on the following:

1. The bangin’ New Year’s Eve Party
2. Shoe shopping with Jeannine
3. My dad on the trip home

Oh, and while this might be very unrelated to this entry, it is a very relevant piece of advice: Don’t talk smack about people who are smarter than you. They usually find out. It usually ends badly for you, the meddler. That is all.