Lies and other fun facts

As we prepare to say goodbye to the herpes infested bag of dicks that is 2016, it is time to reflect on the past year. We have lost so much in the past 12 months. Prince. Alan Rickman. David Bowie. Brangelina. Our country’s self respect. Gene Wilder. Cultural tolerance and mass human decency. Muhammad Ali. Harambe. Anton Yelchin. Glenn Rhee.


Not gonna lie, some of those really hurt.

What hurt the most though, was the death of facts. Facts, real news, truth.

I’m not here to add to the conversation on the fucked up-ness of fake news and the profound effect they’re having on our society. There’s way too many people who are far more eloquent and smarter than I am discussing it. I don’t even care if you don’t agree with me politically, morally, or religiously. Opinions are opinions. All I ask is that if you’re going to debate about something, just make sure you are factually correct.


That’s all changing now. When you debate someone, you don’t need to actually be correct anymore. And if someone calls you out on it? Just tell them to go google it if they don’t believe you. That’s right, just post a meme showing your position (preferably with a picture of Morgan Freeman) and pawn off all responsibility on others so you don’t have to waste your valuable trolling time with things like fact-checking. So because facts aren’t really a thing to concern yourself with anymore and it’s now socially acceptable to make up whatever the hell you want, here are some of my favorite new “facts”.

  • After Harambe was shot, a new federal law saying that anyone who willingly goes into an animal enclosure gives up all their rights when it comes to not being mauled and/or eaten was signed.
  • Queen Elizabeth has made 3 cameo appearances in Doctor Who, and did voice-over work for an episode of Sherlock as a poodle that offered love life advice to the Watson after a hilarious incident involving wild mushrooms, a balloon, and a trumpet.


  • Actor James Woods actually served as the governor of Idaho for a week while researching a movie role in the late 1990s.
  • Trump makes Mexican day laborers choke him in the shower while he masturbates.
  • Armored Hippos were actually being trained in WW2 as a ferocious weapon in the Pacific theatre. The program was highly successful, but was ended when a rogue hippo killed 5 marines and admiral Norman Scott before it was able to be put down by a special ops team that were later named navy SEALS.


  • DIA was actually legally owned by Nigerian scammers for 36 hours in 1998 when a receptionist in the Dept of Aviation in Denver, CO was told she needed collateral before she would be eligible to make a profit of $9,090,845,832.21.
  • In Australia, a female peacock is actually called a peacunt, and her offspring are called Chickpeas.
  • Fred Rogers (aka, Mr Rogers) was one of the original members of Megadeath. Despite his incredible bass guitar playing, he was kicked out of the group because of his cardigan fetish. Bob Ross was considered as a replacement, but he refused to perform out of respect for his friend.


(Side note: You’re probably thinking, “uh, you’d be making up shit like this anyway, just for the hell of it”. And you are correct. The difference is that now, I might get the future president of the United States to believe and tweet it. Sweet.)


Lemur Abroad, part 2 (aka, Lemur Abroad…er)

In this post, I continue my Irish adventures, because why the fuck not? Would you rather me talk about the election? No, I thought not. (Side note: I’m so fucking sick of this election already. I mean really, I’m looking forward to the apocalypse as much as the next girl, so can we just already get on with the fucking end of our country already?) So sit back, pour some wine, and let’s all look at some goddamn pretty pictures together.

Day 4 – Galway

The rainiest day of our trip. Such a cool city. I could totally live there.


My life motto. Well, that, and “Well fuck me, that was unexpected”.




Translates to “Galway Love and Happiness”. I think. It could mean “I’ll fecking fight you with my heart spear, bitch”






Day 5 – Cliffs of Moher

The Cliffs of Moher are one of those things I’ve desperately wanted to see my entire life. I was actually pretty nervous to go, because it’s so easy for something you’ve wanted for so long to be underwhelming.

It was not underwhelming, not in the least.

First, a quick little stop at the Burren…



Lord of the rocks










Next, the Cliffs….


Here we sneak up on the Cliffs of Moher, so as to not startle them. The Cliffs are known to be quite skittish…


Sadly, my husband was not a fan of my plan to stand in the doorway and scream “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!” at tourists wanting to go up to the top of the lighthouse. It’s not like I had bridge in a cave to do it in….


“I’m the Queen of the world!!!! Or, at least of all the lemurs… in a 1 mile radius. Maybe. I don’t know where the nearest zoo is. But if that weird guy in the trench coat is harboring a lemur, I’m totally queen of it. 


I just noticed the thing in the bottom right of the sign either looks like a very judgmental pelican or a horrified bug screaming for the guy not to jump. Or for the guy to take a running leap, since bugs are usually total assholes.




















Day 6 and 7 – Dublin

We didn’t get to see half of what we wanted, but we did sneak in the Guinness factory, Trinity College and the Book of Kells, Temple Bar, a horse drawn carriage ride tour, and tons of food.


View from the top of the Guinness factory. Cool view, but too many fucking tourists there. 


Is George RR Martin a Guinness fan?? I like to think he is.


St Stephen’s Green


The Long Room Library at Trinity College. Nothing snarky to say here, I wanted to start twirling around like Belle when she finds the Beast’s library…




Brazenhead pub, apparently the oldest pub in Dublin



This needs no explanation. The world is watching us, folks

Until next time Ireland….

Best. Trip. EVER!!! 

(Side note: Now that I’ve gotten to relive my awesome vacation, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled bitching in no time at all)


Lemur Abroad

This month, I checked something off my bucket list. Something that’s been on my list for as long as I can remember.

I went to Ireland.

I went to Ireland, and it was everything that I had hoped it would be. 14495508_10209047673565888_2688577457491625713_n.jpg

So, because I’m one of those people who can’t stop talking about myself, and because this is my blog so I can do whatever the fuck I want – here’s my Ireland recap – complete just a fraction of the pictures we took. (Side note: Sorry, this probably won’t be as snarky as my usual posts, but this was just such an amazing experience for me I don’t have much to be bitter and snarky about.)

Day 1 – New York Blitz

On our way out to Ireland, we had a 6 hour layover in New York City. I had always wanted to see NYC, and since we had a few hours to kill, we decided to take a break from the airport and do some sight seeing.

We realistically only had about 3 hours to hang out, so we decided on a visit to the Empire State Building, and because it would just be wrong not to, get some pizza.



You can practically smell the urine from here

Notes from NYC

  • It’s totally possible to see the Empire State Building in under an hour, especially if you have no disregard for anyone’s feelings, personal space, or their/your own personal safety.
  • I would totally start the zombie apocalypse in NYC.
  • The Empire State Building view was cool, for sure. 14441169_10209020931657357_6600005385352449013_n.jpg14485119_10209020933617406_8900143736008040905_n.jpg


  • The pizza was all it’s cracked up to be.
  • I didn’t see Pizza Rat, any superheroes, or any Ninja Turtles. This whole city is a lie.

Over all, I’m glad we got to see a tiny part of the city. And now I can definitively say that I couldn’t care less if I make it back there.

Day 2 – Hello, Ireland



I found Rivendell, and it’s now a gated community in Dublin! Elves apparently drive Mercedes now, because of course they do.



  • Best fish and chips EVER.
  • No one’s kidding when they talk about how pretty Ireland is.
  • All the cool houses seemed to be named. Henceforth, my apartment shall be named Lemur’s Roost. Do lemurs have roosts? Well they do now.
  • By the way, we stayed in a motherfuckin’ castle, yo. How cool is that shit??

Day 3: Our Day of the Doctor

Thankfully, I’ve managed to drag my husband as deep into the rabbit hole of my Doctor Who obsession as I am. We made sure to spend a day of our vacation in Wales, chasing Doctor Who.


We found the Doctor Who Experience…


Well, where do you want me to dump bodies then?



Worst milkshake I’ve ever had, but who cares? I got to sit in the booth that Amy, Rory and River sat in after the Doctor got shot by an astronaut coming out of a lake! (…. Stop looking at me like that. You knew what you were getting into when you read my blog…)


I love the round thingies!!!!



I’m so lucky to have a husband who so throughly encourages what is probably a really unhealthy obsession. (Side note – hey, at least it’s not an obsession with hookers and blow?)


More to follow….


Honest Orientation

The new employee orientation and team building exercises are almost as painful as the interview.


Get to know each other questions

What’s your biggest fear? 

That I died on my way here and this is hell and I’ll spend the rest of eternity learning about dress codes and sexual harassment policies.

If you were a superhero, who would you be? funny-anxiety-girl.jpg

If you could commit a crime without getting caught, what would you do? 

Let’s just say, we all know a motherfucker who you wouldn’t be sad if they disappeared…

What’s your greatest accomplishment?



What they should ask instead…

Fuck/Marry/Kill: Chris Pratt, Ryan Reynolds, Bradley Cooper

If you were stuck on a desert island with a man or woman, would you rather they be top half fish/bottom half human or bottom half fish/top half human? 

 Would you rather have sex with a sheep and no one knows about it? Or not have sex with a sheep and everyone thinks you did? 

50 Shades of Grey or Twilight? (Trick question: either answer will get you fired. The only acceptable answer is neither.)


Team building activities

Instead of…

Trust falls



         Fight clubs. That way you know who the alpha of the group is.


First rule of fight club: Shut the fuck up before Sally in HR gets her brass knuckles out

Instead of…





Divide your group into teams of 3-5. Leave them in the middle of the wilderness of rural Georgia. If the team survives, they’ll be much closer. And probably won’t give you or the rest of management any problems in the future as long as your mental health benefits are superb. Employee assistance programs FTW!


I’ll get that report to you by lunch, Bob


(Side note: Game of Thrones marathons are acceptable team building activities, as is beer pong.)


Other helpful hints

  • Don’t skimp on the catered lunch. Let us start working for you before we know how cheap the company is.
  • What are some of the unwritten policies? i.e., which bathroom do employees avoid using because either the plumbing is terrible or the entire department can hear you straining after Taco Tuesday? How casual is Casual Friday? Does that mean a fun tie with your suit, or is my lemur once acceptable?
  • Let us know who wins the “Most likely to have a body in their basement” award at the holiday party, and how much IT prefers to be bribed to ignore your internet search history (at least, until there’s a court order to hand it over).





Honest answers

Just once, I want to go into a job interview and be as honest as I want.


Tell me about yourself.

Well, I initially got into this line of work because I genuinely cared and wanted to help people. I’ve come to realize that I don’t. But frankly, I don’t know what else I could do for this money and job security, so here I am.

Why do you want to work here? 

You’re hiring. Since I’m not yet independently wealthy and I hate the outdoors, I need to be able to pay rent. It’s kismet.

Why should we hire you?

  • I really, really hate having to job hunt. And as I told you earlier, I have no idea what to be when I grow up anyway. Basically, if you hire me, there is a really good chance that I’ll be here until I die.
  • I will never be more than 3 minutes early. I’ll be on time more often than not, but I get anxious about being early and will sit in my car and check Facebook until it’s time to clock in just in time.
  • I will try my hardest to abide by my canary theory. What’s that, you ask? Well, you know how they would take a canary into coal mines, and as long as the canary was ok the miners were ok to keep working? I pride myself on finding the coworker who is causing the most problems for you (the canary), and doing just a little bit better work than them. That way, I’m not having to try too hard and you’ll only have to deal with the one employee (who’s not me) causing problems. When possible, I will try to pin any of my mistakes on the canary, so again you only have one problem employee to deal with at a time.

Tell me about a time when you went above and beyond at work.

Honestly, I never have. I assure that I will always do the bare minimum to keep me from getting fired, and I will never disappoint you by breaking any promises I may have made about doing extra work – or doing it but turning in sub-par work to ensure you never ask me to do it again. My work for you will consistently be average.

Tell me about a time you had a conflict with a coworker.

Well, he wasn’t a coworker, but I did once try to get a roommate arrested for possible DUI, domestic abuse and selling drugs. He did none of the above, but he did lay on the couch and masturbate a lot. Another roommate was the recipient of a ginormous pair of yellowing underwear bought at Goodwill that was liberally coated in peanut butter (smooth, all natural) and mustard (spicy) to simulate an epic skid mark. Said panties were then hidden between his bed and wall when he was out for the evening. Technically, my then fiance/now husband was the true skid mark artist, but I managed the shit (pun intended) out of that project. Wait, can I use these answers for the “above and beyond” question??

What are three of your strengths?

  • Day drinking.
  • My moodiness really makes my coworkers shifts more interesting.
  • Apathy and disdain for humanity. I know many people foolishly think that this might be a bad thing, but they’re wrong. So wrong. It’s liberating to have no fucks left to give, and frankly it’ll probably make me less likely to snap in the future because I’m already beaten down by the system.

What are three of your weaknesses?

  • Despite having no discernible practical survival skills and few life skills in general, I firmly believe I will survive the zombie apocalypse.
  • If I bring in any homemade food in, you should realize that I base my entire self worth on what you think of my cooking. I do not want your honest opinion, meme, gordon-ramsay-yelling-meme1389195524831.jpg

  • The last time I was allowed to talk to a vendor, I ended up ranting about how annoying Andrea on The Walking Dead was, and the only reason I was sad she died was because her vagina was like a divining rod for the bad guys. Seriously, if she fucked someone, they turned out to be a bad guy (Shane, the Governor).  This is a 100% true story. You should really not let me talk to people.

What questions do you have for me?

None, really, but I know you’re going to be all butt-hurt if I don’t play along, so …

  • On a scale of 1 – walking on legos, how painful is the busy work required of this position?
  • Are there a lot of assholes working here? What is the general ratio of douchebags to people who I don’t want to punch in the throat?
  • How much time will I have to nap/Facebook/poop/Pinterest at work? I’m really looking for a company that will allow me to maintain my long term relationship with Hulu.




I apologize for not having been around for the past few months. I’ve been busy, but that’s no excuse to ignore you. I’ve been crafting, drunk buying a metal rooster, drunk buying a lemur onesie, planning a fundraiser, planning a vacation… This all actually makes me sound a lot busier/adultier than I really have been. Honestly, most of this summer has been spent binge watching multiple shows (side note: Shameless, how have I lived my life without you?!), drinking margaritas, eating tacos, and trying to figure out what the hell that smell in my car is. (Side note: I’m almost positive there’s not a dead body in my car, but I just can’t be sure anymore).


Don’t fucking judge me, Netflix. Hulu never pulls this shit. 

Two weeks ago, I celebrated the anniversary of the day I valiantly fought my way out of the tyrannical oppression of the womb to earn my sweet, sweet freedom.

Translation: it was my birthday.

I’m 35. Shit. How did that happen??


I feel like this birthday, more so than the rest, has triggered a major existential crisis in me. After all…

  • I can no longer pretend I’m in my 20’s.
  • The only skills I’ve cultivated in 35 years are: day drinking, cupcake baking, sarcasm, apathy, basic lock picking, and an unbreakable love of tacos.
  • I am not an accomplished singer/songwriter, actress, or athlete. Granted, I’ve never had any talent in these areas. It just bothers me that if I HAD had any talent in these areas, I’d basically be shit outta luck at this point. If I were an actress, I’d be at that point where Hollywood wants me for mom roles. If I were an athlete, I’d have to retire to be a coach.
  • I haven’t backpacked across Europe, I don’t own a home. But at least I do have crippling student debt that I’ll eventually have to fake my death to get out of.
  • My youngest coworkers have never seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or the Breakfast Club or the other classics. I’m not sure how relevant that is, but it makes me very  sad for them.




Please don’t get me wrong – I’m extraordinarily lucky. I have an amazing husband whom I love beyond words and all reason. My family is supportive beyond words. My job isn’t something I want to do for the rest of my life, but I have some fantastically supportive coworkers and friends who I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. My mid-life/third-of-a-life crisis is basically entirely warrantless.



So what am I trying to say here? My life does not suck. Not even a little bit, not even at all. My real regrets are far an few in between, and after my little freak out involving anxiety followed by tequila followed by a shopping spree on Victoria’s Secret online, I realized I really don’t care about that list. What do I care about? That I…

  • Cross “Go To Ireland” off my bucket list
  • Remain felony free
  • Find out where that goddamn smell is coming from. (Side note: Seriously, it’s like a wet dog rolled in spoiled milk. It’s like if brimstone and bad decisions had a love child, and that child didn’t take a bath for a few days. That would be what my car smells like. I mean, you get used to it, but you never really get used to it, you know?)
  • Write more. I may have given up my childhood dreams of being an actress, a dancer, a dolphin, and/or a trust-funder, and I’ll probably never make a living writing, but at least I’ll be doing something I love to do

But seriously, what am I trying to say here?

I’m not sure. Just plan to see me here more often.


I’m definitely not cool enough to have drawn this – credit goes to




Goodbye, Sweet Dalek

Last August, my husband threw me a surprise birthday party. In case anyone wasn’t sure which party at the park was ours, he got me this in lieu of a birthday banner.

IMG_1075.jpgNo, your eyes aren’t deceiving you, my friend. That is in fact a 6 foot dalek cardboard cutout (side note: For those of you who don’t recognize daleks as one of the main villains from Doctor Who… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.)

I love my life-sized dalek. We put him outside our front door. Delivery guys who knew what it was got huge tips. The UPS guys hid any packages behind it. Friends didn’t have to remember what apartment we were in. I even dressed up the dalek for holidays, because why would I make a wreath I found on Pinterest when I can do this!









Alas, all good things come to an end. Today we got a call from the leasing office of our apartment complex. After nine months having it outside my door, the leasing office has decided we can no longer have the dalek outside.

I blame myself. I hadn’t dressed it up for Memorial Day yet, and honestly, Easter Dalek was pretty underwhelming.

Unfortunately, we have about 10 square feet of available space in our little apartment, keeping it inside isn’t really an option. (Side note: It also seems like it would be pretty traumatizing to walk into a dalek at 4am. Or to let it watch you sleep) So before we send our dalek to the garage tomorrow ….




Pour one out for my homie


Things That Make The Angry Lemur Angry


There’s been a lot of horrible things in the news lately. It’s really fucking depressing. Politics. Mass shootings. Essential oils, homeopathy and pseudoscience. Climate change. The Kardashians are considered still relevant. I could write whole webpages on my hatred of those things alone, but,

1. There are tons of articles on these things out there already that are way more informed and entertaining than anything I could write, and

2. It’s all so awful and overwhelming that i just don’t have the energy to scream into the empty void that is the internet about it all.

My first inclination to deal with all this awfulness is to embrace my inner hermit and buy a cabin as far from civilization as possible. Unfortunately, my bank account and love of food trucks vetoed this idea.

I could take the high road and instead of focusing on the excruciating negative, talk about how inordinately and profoundly grateful I am to have my husband, dog, family and friends in my life, and how I would be nothing without them. #motherfuckinblessed

Or, at the very least, I could post a bunch of inspirational memes on Facebook. If I get 20 likes, maybe all my societal hopelessness and anger will be wiped away!


I’ll just get mad about things that aren’t soul crushingly depressing.

So here it is, in no particular order:

A Few Things That Really Just Piss Me Off


AKA: A cup full of lies. They’re the overpriced watered down shot of espresso that’s masquerading as coffee. It’s not a cup of coffee though. Get your shit together Americano, and decide to be a coffee or an espresso. No one thinks your hipster attitude is cute anymore. (Side note – I do realize that my husband probably gets me iced americanos a lot, whenever our local coffee shop is out of regular iced coffee. I accept that while I probably can’t tell the difference in a blind taste test, I still stand by my anti-Americano stance). Just be who you are, Americano coffee. Stop trying to be who you aren’t.


The movie. Not the stuff that signifies a delicious piece of pizza. Although I really am not fond of that kind of grease either. But I really do love pizza. Why does Sandy have to go and change everything about herself to get Danny to like her in the end? Oh sure, he promises to try harder in school, use less hair gel, and I don’t know, stop telling her it’ll be just the tip just for a second this time? But those are empty promises, like when I say I’ll lose 5lbs, or when I say that I thought I paid that bill, it must still be in the mail. Spoiler alert: I won’t, and it’s not. We both know it. That’s Danny, he’s the check in the mail that “must’ve gotten lost”. Then you have Sandy. She’s all sweet to start, and ends up a chain smoking whore to earn Danny’s love and adoration. How is that fair? Why did she actually have to change instead of just promising she won’t key his car or fake a pregnancy for attention again?


(Side note – I’m also suspicious that Sandy’s parents just decided to stay in America, instead of going back to Australia like they initially planned. This just screams “avoiding certain and unpleasant legal obligations/convictions” to me).

Don’t get me wrong, if it seemed like Sandy was dying to break out the leather pants so tight there’s no way her camel toe didn’t end up chaffed, power to ya sister, you chaff those lips! But whether Sandy was using Danny as an excuse to break out her dominatrix gear or was just trying to impress a boy, Danny is still a dickhead.


Backfeifengesicht: German for “a face that’s badly in need of a fist”


“Look at what an awesome thing I did!” stories

These are the stories that always start off as click-bait articles. I fucking hate click-baits, but every once in a while, I do get suckered in. I’m not proud of myself, and I’m almost always disappointed by what I find. These particular stories even worse than regular click-baits, thanks to their self serving/begging for adulation nature.

It always starts off with some douchebag being a douchebag or some sort of indignity. Usually it involves some sort of military folk. (Side note: In the interest of time and energy conservation, I will condense and summarize the following stories to what I feel are the main points).

“I was sitting on a plane…and noticed 10 soldiers sitting around me not ordering lunch… Everyone was so impressed that I bought them lunches that they cried and gave me money and wet panties, but being the selfless true hero I am, I gave the money to the soldiers”

“I was a pilot on a major airline, and found out I had a deceased soldier and his family on board… I got the entire policy of the airline changed so that the family could see the casket and everyone cried and told me how amazing I was. You should definitely admire how much I did for the soldiers, I’m a goddamn hero”

“Someone was being horrible to a cashier. I stood up for them and everyone in line cheered for me and the cashier cried and said I changed his life and look at what a good person I am!! ACKNOWLEDGE WHAT A GOOD PERSON I AM GODDAMMIT!!!! LOVE ME LOVEMELOVEMELOVEMEMEMEME!!!!!”

  1. If this story is true, why are you (the author of the bullshit story, not whoever is just reposting this shit) telling this story like you are? You’re not trying to impress people with how heroic soldiers are, you want everyone to gush over how selfless and heroic YOU are. YOU are not being selfless. YOU are being a douche-canoe. (Side note: If you notice you’re reposting these bullshit stories, stop, punch yourself in the balls/vag as hard as you can, and then delete these posts).
  2. Spoiler alert: The vast majority of these stories aren’t even true, so stop spreading this click-bait shit. Stop encouraging this behavior. ( (



Day 3

8:00 am: We’re in Cozumel!!

10:00 am: Mom and I go on a tequila tasting tour. As mom doesn’t drink, I gallantly offer to drink her samples. The tour started with two frozen margaritas. (Side note – technically one for each of us, but I have them both to keep mom from feeling bad about a drink going to waste. I’m a giver, folks. I care)

11:45 am: I’m starting to reconsider the wisdom of drinking 5 of the 6 samples provided to my mom an I. The 6th I gave to a fellow tour-goer, as I have almost fallen off the stool. Twice. (Side note: In my defense, sometimes I do have problems with stools and chairs while completely sober)


12:00 pm: I consider starting a fight with a patron in the store because he was staring at me. It turned out it was a mannequin, but I still think it was rude.

1:45 pm: The tour provided us tacos for lunch, and one more margarita for each of us. And by that, I mean 2 1/2 for me, because someone else on the tour shared a third with me. Jesus, this tour does not fuck around with its tequila. Thank you Jose Cuervo tequila tour!!

4:00 pm: Back on the ship, but to be honest, I’m not sure how I got there since mom thought I didn’t need to be drunk-sat and went back to the ship after our post-tour shopping. Judging from the pictures and the lack of an international criminal record (that I know of), I didn’t get into too much trouble.


Hammock and a pina colada? Don’t mind if I do!



I’m still not sure if this was a statue or not, as I went to the bathroom and came back and he was gone. Or I was in another place.


Gratuitous foot picture





What’s an ass like you doing in a place like this?


Day 4

8:00 am: Hello Belize!

9:15 am: Today mom and I are going to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef via a little island named Rendevous Island.


10:00 am: The weather’s a little colder and stormier than expected, but at least mom and I had the satisfaction of knowing that our tour guides were freezing their asses off in the 70 degree weather and that we’d be in something like 40 degree weather back home.

10:20 am: We’re in the warm water. Apparently the visibility was way worse than normal, but it was still pretty amazing.

10:45 am: I chance becoming a statistic, abandon mom to the tour guides, and wander away from the group to see another group that’s looking at a sea cucumber (Side note: The tour guide swears that the sea cucumber is not in fact peeing on the girl holding it, but I politely decline to hold it anyway. I don’t really want to have to explain to my husband, whom I’m desperately home sick for at this point, that I may or may not have gotten sea herpes via sea cucumber salty golden showers. I just don’t see that conversation going well)

11:10 am: I help a little girl back to shore and, having balanced the day’s karma, I no longer feel bad about leaving mom.

11:30 am: I find mom lounging on the beach and decide that this is the best idea ever. We commence lounging.


No idea who this chick is, but I promise she is in fact wearing a swimsuit. Probably.

11:40 am: It turns out that the storm that seemed awfully far off in the distance wasn’t actually that far off. We hide under one of the three palm trees on the island. Luckily, we’re both short and everyone else had the same idea, so we were fairly well blocked from the rain by our human shields.

11:50 am: Our tour guides decide to abandon the island. This is ok, we were ready to shop anyway.

1:00 pm: It’s still raining here in Belize City. I bet this place is unbelievably gorgeous in good weather, because it’s still pretty damn nice in the rain.

IMG_0459.JPGIMG_0462.jpg                               IMG_0463.jpg

3:00 pm: Like the toddler sitting next to us on the way back to the ship, we are cold, tired, hungry, and on the verge of an epic temper tantrum.

5:30 pm: After a shower and a snack, we go see this cool little presentation on Thomas Kinkaide (mom’s favorite artist). Surprisingly interesting. We’re getting all sorts of learning in today.

6:30 pm: Dinner. Feeling significantly less stabby.


The waiters had to participate in a totally spontaneous-but-completely-coordinated-song-and-dance number mid meal. This was our waiter. I don’t know where he was hiding the sleeves because 43 seconds earlier when he dropped off our food, he wasn’t wearing them. I just hope hands were washed before and after.


To be continued…..

Caribbean Cruise, or, Buy The Booze Pass If You Vacation With Your Mother; Part 1

A little over a year ago, my mom and I realized that we had never taken a vacation together, just the two of us. We decided we needed to fix that and booked a 9 day cruise to the Caribbean.

I decided to keep a log of our trip for posterity sake, and recently I found a copy of that log. Because it made me giggle, and because it’s a good excuse to post some of the gratuitous beach porn, I decided I would share our trip with everyone.

Day 1


10:25 am: Checking into the cruise. The line is absurdly long, despite us getting there extra early. Luckily, mom needs a crutch to walk so we were able to cut through a lot of lines.

2:25 pm: Made it to our room. Drink pass, which allows up to 16 drinks per day, bought. Drink #1.

2:50 pm: A vaguely overwhelmed looking little old lady come up to me and holds my hand. I consider that I’ve had far worse people try to hold my hand and decide to just let it happen until her daughter claims her.

3:45 pm: Apparently there’s a safety drill we have to go to. We head toward our muster point (side note: because mom is considered disabled, our muster point was one of the dining rooms. I wonder if they assume that if the ship starts to sink, disabled cruisers will find it easier to float out on tables ala Jack and Rose on their door rather than get in, you know, a lifeboat).

3:55 pm: Mom is looking for a crew member to make sure that the captain of the ship isn’t the same one that crashed the cruise ship in Italy. I make a quick stop for drink #2.


5:00 pm: We go up to the pool, where an old guy in a speedo walks by with one testicle literally hanging out. Like, the speedo was trying to divide the scrotum into two separate scrotii (side note: I have no idea what multiple scrotum are actually called, and I know that scrotii isn’t a word – although it totally should be.). I’m equally horrified and fascinated now that I’ve made eye contact with the nut and the 3 absurdly dark hairs sticking out. I’m hypnotized by the nut. I’m nut-notized. I follow at a distance to try and get a picture, but I lose site of the nut in the buffet. The spell was broken so I left and got a consolatory drink (#3).

5:45 pm: Drink #4. Have reached the “I wish I could dance!” stage.

6:30 pm: Drink #5. Have reached the “Wait a minute, of course I can dance!” stage.

8:10 pm: Drink #6-…9ish? Dinner, followed by the floor show. Mom and I agree that the main chick is spectacularly horrible and clearly blackmailed someone to be there.

11:45 pm: Drink #well into double digits (side note: thank you, drinking at sea level!). We’ve just finished watching a comedian, and mom’s now talking to him about sex. There’s no amount of mind bleach to erase this conversation. I find a trash can to vomit into instead.



Day 2

9:00 am: Oh My God. Can’t remember the last time I was this hungover. Vomit. Almost get stuck in absurdly small bathroom. Extricate myself, back to bed.

11:00 am: Vomit a little more. Shower. I swear to my liver that if it survives, I’ll never drink again.

11:50 am: After a breakfast burrito, I feel human again. I have, however, lost my mom.

12:30 pm: I spot the testicle again!! This is so exciting, it’s like spotting a shriveled little Yeti in the wild twice on the same camping trip! (side note: how is that thing not sunburned and chaffed yet? Is he rotating nuts every hour? Or is the other one just the groundhog and only comes out once a year, and if it sees it’s shadow it’s 6 more weeks until he can get his Viagra prescription filled?)

1:00 pm: Found mom, and explain that her note of “I’ll be by the hot chocolate machine” is not helpful when there are no fewer than 4 hot chocolate stations on that deck alone.

2:00 pm: Mom spills some of her diet coke, and looks at me very innocently and says “oh good, I didn’t lose my cherry!”. This brings back flashbacks from the conversation with the comedian. I am now drinking again. Sorry, liver.

8:10 pm: I am so proud of mom for trying new food! I am so proud of myself for not throwing up during the mid-afternoon thunderstorm!


Post-thunderstorm sunset. This pic doesn’t begin to do it justice.

9:30 pm: Have made up for the sobriety earlier during the day and have reached the “wait a minute, I think I can sing after all” stage, and am happily singing along to all the 90’s trivia songs.

10:15 pm: We go to the 90’s music show. I am hoping that this show will be better than the one the night before, and have several more rum and cokes to help this not be a horrible mistake.

11:00 pm: I was wrong. So very wrong. Not enough rum to make this chick sing better. Her voice is vocal equivalent of that guy’s sweaty ball sack rubbing against my face. Cabin service and my book salvage the rest of the night.



The floor show stage. Not pictured: Horrible singer. I assumed she’s backstage, blowing the director because that’s the only way she got this gig.