The plan was foiled when the divorced fathers forgot to pick up Leo after soccer practice.

I'm back---I know you all missed me terribly. Especially since I update somewhat obsessively, a three day break was quite the undertaking for me. But when given a choice between lugging the laptop around on vacation or not having the internet, I'll take comfort over convenience every time.

While I will write about the trip, I'm not going to put up pictures. First, blogger won't let me. Second, I hate looking at other people's vacation pictures. Third, there are about a thousand available to you from either my sister or my mother, because my family has a sick preoccupation with taking pictures. I don't know why they insist on wasting half the time of any given activity photographing everything and everyone involved instaed of just experiencing the damn activity. Grrr.

Okay, so on Friday we manage to leave on time and with minimal luggage, which is an ordeal for us as usually we resemble a circus pulling into town. Imladris and the Boy take bets on how long it will be before I ask for breakfast. Which makes no sense, as they took them in front of me. I'm beginning to question just how smart my family thinks I am.

Get lovely cappuccino at McDonalds, and manage to spill it all over my skirt without ever actually opening the top. I don’t know how that happened, but it did and I ended up sitting in my underwear for half an hour waiting for it to dry. Embarrassing, I know. But necessary.

*five hours of hilly country and corn later*

We arrive at the hotel, loverly as alaways, except I am informed upon arrival that the Boy will be commandeering the rollaway bed, because my parents want to share a bed. Whatever. If they wanted to sleep together so badly, they can damn well get me my own room, because I am so past that sharing a double bed, which I get to myself every other night, with another full-sized person. It doesn’t work. They pull out the “don't ruin our vacation” card, and Imladris and I are forced to share a bed and do our much-practiced turn in unisen so that we don't end up facing each other. Of course, I never get the side of the bed with the nightstand, and I have no place to put my glasses. Thus begins a weekend where I awake many, many times to find myself almost spooning my sister. And then I have to go get a little bit sick in the bathroom. But at least the Boy has room to spread out. >:(

By the time we finish arguing about the bed and have dinner, the evening is pretty much over. Everyone falls asleep, and Imladris and I drink (Arbor Mist: Drunk Soccer Mom drink, but TASTY!!!!) and watch Harry Potter and Finding Nemo. We decide to sneak booze into more children’s movies (Open Season anyone??? ;)). I decide I’m back into Alan Rickman (its’ a hormonal fluctuation thing, comes and goes.) Imladris decides never to pair adorable teensy bottles of wine with lots of ice cream.

Next morning I finally give up on sleeping at about seven and get up to have coffee with Mommy and Colleen at the adorable little coffee bar across the street. Immediately I am floored by the fact that the girl working there has earned more tips this morning than I have over the entire summer. Oh the Joy of Customers.

Mommy regales us with tales of her dream last night, in which Colleen and I are both married and one of us is pregnant. But she doesn't know which one. Imladris immediately decides it's her, and I will die alone and barren. I am sure, despite my mother’s dream, that I am a beacon of fecundity, and am not going to be barren and childless while Imladris drags around her perfectly dressed 2.5 children. Humph.

So we plan on going out and about, but there is a parade blocking everything. Serioulsy? Mrs. Grant??? When I was little I had a First Ladies coloring book, and I never liked to color her in. Her dressed were much to ugly. Much like Eleanor Roosevelt. I know she “did a lot for our country” and all that crap, but girl did not know how to dress. Neither did Mrs. Truman, poor woman named after a cow. Really, from Mrs. Lincoln (Crazy knew how to dress, I'll give her that), there was like a seventy-five year period there without a pretty first lady. Very sad, really. And then Jackie came and saved the day. Loved coloring her in.

Spent the morning shopping. Got adorable shirts. Espresso and Merlot. Tasty. And then everybody goes back to sleep. I read about St. Petersburg. Seriously reconsidering moving there, because the apartments sound pretty damn nasty. Maybe I'll focus my husband-hunting on western Europe.

Got ice cream. Mmmmm.

More resting. I burned probably five calories this weekend, and that was hauling myself up the stairs to various restaurents.

We then drive around and go to Mass. Colleen thought she was dressed like a hooker. I thought she looked cute, but did admit to the irony when the priest did a little “being dressed appropriately for Communion thing.” Tee hee. Glad they mentioned the Holy Day, as I completely forgot and have to work at night and have to find a Mass during the day.

For dinner we got take out in the room. Mmmm. Watched CSI:NY and Criminal Minds while having tasty burgers and mudslide sundaes. Have decided that Hawkes, too, would be a good platonic husband, as he was Very Caring to that poor woman whose son was burned to a crisp because her horny boyfriend wanted them to move in with him. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to hand out around the lab, or have him mention his work at all, lest I get myself worked into a hormonal frenzy over the other members of the group, but still.

I now think I'm going to throw up.

So it's finally dark, and we can go out for out traditional nighttime drive in the hills. Okay. Imladris and I had had some more Arbor Mist during dinner, and, while we were certainly not tipsy, we were having a Pretty Good Time, and tried our darndest to find the hot reenactors, who were supposedly camping outside Grant's house, but totally weren't. Lots of fun. The evening ended with me attempting to find a bar and recruit a guy to infiltrate the Masonic ranks and tell me their secrets, and possibly impregnate Colleen, but that's a whole different story. "Hey! Have you thought about becoming a Mason lately???" HAHAHAHA.

Fell asleep watching SNL, which was crazy funny, and gave me the title, which I have been laughing about all weekend. "Yes I'd like a sandwhich!" Hehehe. Also, we feel a teensy bit sad for Maggie Gyllenhaal.

On Sunday we have more coffe. Have decided maybe I need a couple more dollars of inspiration in my tip jar. Shall test this theory on Tuesday. So after filling coffee, we go the breakfast buffet. I have now officially gained five pounds. Then we walk around some more, and drive around for like two hours, unwilling to admit that the weekend is actually over. My family has perfected the Art of Denial.

Could not find a single Taco Bell across the whole damn state. Had to have it for dinner instead. Grrr.

Yeah, you really didn't want to read all that, did you??? Oh well. This post is over, because my father is being industrious and cleaning the attic, and I have to go make sure that he's not throwing out anything that I have earmarked for my children.