Need a vacay from vacay

Lemme just say one thing: I am effing exhausted! I would never guess that going on a vacay would ever be tiring. Usually it's not. But this time -- this time -- I used muscles I never thought I had.

Case in point:

Did you know you use your inner thighs to walk? Yeah, me neither! But apparently you do because after a mere 15 minutes of squeezing a jet ski between my legs in a desperate plea to hold on for my ever-lovin' life (thanks, Brad, you *rock* at driving), I am now walking around the office in a sort of hunched over, corn-cob-up-the-behind kind of way. Attractive, yes. Pleasant, hell no.

The aching is so bad that I actually have to hold my own leg and place it where I want it. That's some good times right there, peoples. Not only do I have to practically kill myself to walk, but now I have to use other muscles in order to make the sore muscles work. And that = exercising. And, well ... Dianna don't take too kindly to that sort of torture.

On the bright side, I got to sleep on a house boat for the very first time. Which is an adventure all in itself, I must say. Going from one end to the other during a healthy wave spell is like having about a billion too many drinks and trying to take a leisurely stroll. FUN! Sounds a bit like this: Oh, hello wall! And floor, how YOU doin'? And oops, sorry, you didn't need that eyeball for anything did you? And oooh, drinkies look so lovely all spilt and pretty on your shirt like that.

Yeah.

But hey! There is some really great news. After spending two whole days on a lake; no make-up; crazy, wind-blown ala boat-ride hair; and the constant need to wipe sweat off my upper lip, somehow, someway, I still managed to hold onto my boyfriend. Apparently he likes me sweaty and bloated and dog-ass tired. Sweeeeet.

More lata. I am going to just rest my head on the desk fo r a sed lsdgk;lfkh//...