Happy Taint Patrick's Day

That's it. I have lots of ideas to post but no time right now. We're trying to get our new house all painted so that we can move our stuff in & then put out CURRENT house up for sale.

"Why wait to put your house up for sale?" you ask. Simple. We have 5 cats who aren't afraid of people. They will greet prospective buyers at the door, turn around and show them their little cat butts. They will follow them throughout the house, showing them where I hide the jewelry (it's not just a "dog thing" to do with burglars). They will jump on counters to beg for food. And sweet jeebus they will probably all race to the litter boxes to compete in the "Who Can Shit the Largest, Smelliest Pile Without Covering It Up" contest.

I think it's best to move them into the new place so that people can wander around here unassaulted by friendly felines.

I was thinking of reprising the Tiva Stories from Spring Break last year... If you've not yet read them, they are back in the archives--some of my first few posts in May. You'll need to start from the bottom up. Ten parts of the most annoying-ass traveling companion you'd ever want to encounter. I never DID finish them lol.

Here's the first installment, then you can click over for the rest:

Adventures in Spring Break 2005, Orlando (part 1)

GIRLS GONE WILD!!!! Naw, that was just the MOMMA hehehe. I don't think I have EVER said "FUUUUUUCK" as much in one week. If I'd put a quarter in the Swear Jar, I could have upgraded to First Class my flight home. FUUUCK

Let me first say that WE HAD A BLAST. We laughed, we vegged, we talked, and we definitely rolled our eyes a LOT due to one of our group members, whom I will call "T," per her request. Even doe we ain' in duh club, k? On second thought, I will call her Tiva, cuz "T" was a DIVA. She is the basis for this post. Her cellphone was an issue, but I will discuss this in part 2.

I just about had a heart attack when she showed up at our house with not ONE, but TWO large suitcases PLUS a carry-on. For a 7 day trip. To ORLANDO. Where we were most likely gonna be in the amusement parks all day, and somewhere else at night. Let's see, that should be about 7 daytime outfits & 7 night-time outfits (give or take a couple for bed-wetting incidents), wouldn't you think? We discovered otherwise, but I digress.

The reason we'd set a baggage limit of 1 large/duffel-type bag and a carry-on was because of LIMITED TRUNK SPACE IN THE RENTAL CAR. At our trip planning meetings, Tiva & her momma nodded like bobbleheads when I asked if everyone was clear on that ONE rule. REPEAT AFTER ME: "WE HAVE LIMITED TRUNK SPACE IN THE RENTAL CAR." Understand? Bobble, bobble. Good.

So we stuff the van way beyond capacity in order to get to the airport. We get to the airport planning about 1.5 hrs to spare. SURPRISE! The airline changed the flight time (and flight number) and didn't think it was important enough to notify me. We now have just 20 minutes to get checked in and get our asses onto the plane. Shit.

Four of us checked our luggage without incident. Tiva was another story. She drags her luggage to the counter, and flings up bag #1, only getting it halfway onto the scale. She needs to give it a full-body push the rest of the way. Fifty pounds even. Phew!! That was close, or she might've had to pay the "oversized luggage fee."

She can't even lift bag #2 up onto the scale. Our track star/pole vaulter pushed her out of the way & easily flung it onto the scale. Uh-oh! Looks like Tiva packed a shitload of bricks in that bag. DING DING DING!!! Seventy-five pounds! We have a WINNAH! Shit. On a stick.

The clerk tells her she needs to pay the $25 fee. Tiva wonders what she is getting for this extra $25. She stares at the clerk, wide-eyed. Then blinks once. Twice. Slowly shakes her head as she grumbles, digs through her carry-on, then through her purse. She purses her lips with "attitude" & with a little head shake and a "mm-mm-MM" hands over the cash to the clerk. Remember, we have 20 minutes until our flight leaves. They are boarding. We are on the other side of the airport. I am fat and cannot run like I used to. Plus, it is Easter weekend & we haven't even gotten to the security checkpoint yet. Shit. On a stick. With sprinkles on it.

Needless to say, I am One. Pissed. Off. Momma. Dis ain' NO way to be startin my bay cayshun.

Surprisingly, we make it through security relatively quickly. Nobody gets cavity searched, or even wanded. Yay. We haul ass to the farthest fucking terminal at Metro Airport's Smith (which should be called "Shit") Terminal. The boarding area is totally clear of people & we manage to be the last people on the plane.

Being a fat girl, I HATE being the last person on the plane. Especially when I have a middle seat. Nobody ELSE wants the fat girl to be the last person on the plane either. Especially when they thought the middle seat would stay empty for this leg of the flight.

When I sat down between 2 younger guys (who had a look of sheer terror on their faces as I approached--I KNOW this look, I have had it myself), I promised them that I wouldn't spill into their spaces and that if I fell asleep, I wouldn't lean on them & drool. That seemed to break the ice, as they chuckled nervously.