Hashtagged fucking blessed! ####

Everyday is a fucking blessing right?

It’s been hard to find the time to type, when I have creative thoughts….I have so much going on….by the end of the day…I’m fucking cashed. I’m sitting on an airplane going to Vegas and pull out my computer. One should be hyped!! It’s my parents anniversary and my brother’s 40th birthday. My whole family is getting together and can wait for the comical bullshit to begin. Fucking hashtagged blessed written all over it. I don’t understand hashtags nor do I care to learn. Someday I need to sit down and take all the social media in. Or maybe talk to someone in their twenties and ask why? Damit now, I am old AF and possibly considered in the millennial generation.

Anyways, traveling with my family is fucking ridiculous. For some reason it’s tough. We do love a vacation, it’s just the actual traveling part of going from point A to point B. We either are late, forgetting something, delays make us irritable, someone has to take a shit before we board, last minute phone calls to work and home, kids are crying, etc…..We basically should never leave town.

We go through security, a Security Guard takes my dad’s cane and pass it down two security lanes.

Me:“Hmmmm wonder where the fuck did that thing just went?”
Dad:“Fuck, the plate in my knee is going to set off the alarms.”
I look at him and just shake my head.
Me:“You won’t set off the alarms dad. The machine will show metal on the screen.”
Dad:“I just know it’s going to set of the alarms.” Is he for real?

Meanwhile…..

Johnny: “What do I do?”
Me: “What?”
Johnny:“Do we take off our shoes?”
Me:“What? When was the last time you travelled?”
Johnny:“I can’t remember….” He’s right, he doesn’t get out much…Jesus you need to get out more. He probably has a shit ton of liquids in his bag. 

We get through security and my dad is looking for his cane and waving his belt around in the air like a fucking lunatic. He is walking perfectly and wondering why he brought a cane at all. Suddenly, I was pulled aside for my bag. What the shit? I thought it was for my boner size knitting needles. Excuse me sir, is it my knitting needles? Nope a candle…oops. It was an anniversary gift for my parents. Good thing they just walked away…

Chris and I grab a beer at the bar. Beers at the airport always taste better don’t they? Maybe because your already on vacation?

I get a text from my sister-in-law….”check your snap.” I view it and it’s a video of my dad looking for his paper boarding pass. My parents are not up with the times of phone apps. Love them for keeping up with the past, definitely not moving forward with these two. Anything to not change and go backwards in time is how they live life. They are going to be a fucking handful when they are super seniors. 

We are now boarding the plane. My mom somehow saved an entire row on the airplane. She was A27 and I B54. I take a seat…
Me: “Wow you saved a whole row? I’m so impressed.”
What did she do? spread her legs open and say…“Seats taken” and “Can’t sit here”. Welcome to traveling with my family…it’s probably best if you sit no where near us on a plane.

We take off and suddenly…my eyes are heavy as fuck and feel drowsy.
Me: “I’m so tired.”
Mom: “You should be, your not with your kids.”
I realized I did do a lot leading up to this trip. It takes fucking crazy planning and a village of people to leave your kids. Not to mention the “Lady maintenance” I went through to even go on vacation. I think about it….no wonder why I’m tired.

Saturday-Tuesday Lady Maintenance
Got my hair cut and colored…oh and my bush waxed…Check, check, and fucking check…time for the nail salon.

Walk in….no one was there.
Nail Technician: “You have appointment” I look around…not one person is in there.   Me: “Ummm…no” Gees…Can you fit me in?
Nail Technician: “Xnchdsnaiching Xfhisonislhg….Yea pick out color and sit in chair.”
Me: “Thanks for fitting me in short notice.” Wtf did they just say about me? Fucking hash tagged blessed to be getting my toes done. I need to record their voices and translate later. Seriously the only fucking person in the entire nail salon and asked if I had an appointment.

Suddenly a few turbulent bumps on the plane. I open my eyes, fuck I hate turbulence. Chris is sitting cool as can be. I look over and someone shit their pants. Why do people do that? I look over and Johnny can’t breathe and is gasping for air. Who the fuck farted? I think it was my dad….gross, his farts smell like dirty shit. My family is notorious for shitting their pants anywhere on vacation and small spaces, myself included. I close my eyes again….

Drifting in and out thinking about Wednesday
Drove Denny all around town to get Anniversary and Birthday gifts. He gets candy at every stop we made. At the rate we are going, his teeth are going to fucking fall out….Pick up Tucker from school, drop denny off at school….I see my car showing her age 12 years old.….fucking hash tagged blessed for my car. Chris’s car is a super piece of shit and happy I’m not driving that around. I have a reputation I need to keep up. 

More bumps come….damit knock it off, I’m sitting in the middle. I should’ve stuck chris in the middle and I sit by the window….My mom, Chris, and I ordered vodkas on the rocks. Looking over at my dad ordering shit. wtf is he doing?
Dad: “Yea I will have an orange pop.”
Stewardess: “Yea no, we don’t have orange pop.” He loves all different colored pops. Purple and orange are his fucking favorite. 
Dad: “Oh okay, how about a ginger ale?”
Stewardess: “Okay…”
Dad: “Do you have tomato juice?” He’s ordering crazy shit that is random and he’s dead serious.
stewardess: “What do you want to drink?” Poor stewardess, I think my dad ordered one of everything on the menu.

Suddenly the captain comes on.
Captain: “Little bumpy and have to pass though two cold fronts. Flight attendants will need to sit down and seat belt sign will stay on.”
Damn there goes my vodka…

I close my eyes again…going in and out of dream state. Bumps were coming and felt good to be tired during them. I have no problem flying, but still can’t get over the bumps. Suddenly I think of my little buddy Tucker. It’s been a tough month for him. I’m worried about everything. I hope he’s on green behavior at school today…probably not. He loves to tell his Teacher’s “no thank you” and fucking pretends sleeps in class. He’s our smartest kid.

I’m startled by my dad again. I open up my eyes.
Dad: “BASTARD!!!!”
I look over he’s spelled his ice all over his newspapers from his drink. Gees, we can not take this guy anywhere. He lost his paper boarding pass, told the security he has a plate in his knee, and his cane got shipped two security aisles over. My mom smiles and it’s her anniversary. she didn’t even ask for a free drink. My dad is fluffing newspapers.
Me: “My god, what else is he going to do?”
My mom just rolled her eyes. Always something with this guy.

Anyways, I go back to Wednesday with Tucker. We walk into the eye doctor. I pray this appointment goes well. We are so over due for an eye exam and could never do it before. Took me 6 times to get the dental exam and they finally did the check up in the lobby. Jesus. After the eye appointment, Tucker’s pupils eyes were so dilated and he walked into the bathroom and took a shit with no prompts! I was so excited, I started cheering and screaming like a cheerleader outside the door. Give me a S-H-I-T…what does that spell? SHIT! What does that spell? SHIT!…GOOOO Tucker! Wow…speaking of shit…what smells?

It’s Dad again. His starfish must be hot, we are only half way through the flight. He is unleashing a beast on the plane. He’s grinning like an ape….my brother and sister-in-law are taking a beating in aisle 19. I might need to pull that candle out of my bag and light it. Wouldn’t it be funny, if every time you farted an actually cloud of shit dust would come out? I imagine it being glittery. We are all covered in the shit dust getting off the plane.  

Flight attendant walked into that crop dust of shit and has now delivered two vodkas…instant relief with my first sip. Fucking hash tag this fucking airplane vodka, it is gooooooood. I love vacation.

We make it through the flight…

We walk to get our bags and my dad left his cane at fucking baggage claim. We are at the hotel and he is throwing a fucking fit. That’s to bad. Always something. I literally have about 17 text messages regarding the kids.

Fucking hash tagged we made it…gonna crop dust the fuck out of Vegas. I could write a novel about the trip. Hash tag fucking blessed and cheers for over priced drinks.