Things Michelle told me to do before vacation:
-Speak harshly to that meanie Rick Perry (He was a bad student. And he’s a racist.) DONE
-Make snarky comments to the people who actually come out to see me during bus tour (you know, Tea Partiers, doubters, people with or without jobs, etc.) DONE
-Announce big jobs speech for September, after our awesome vacation (ice cream!) DONE
-Speak sternly to that Syrian guy that’s being mean also. Why is everyone so mean? DONE
-Speak sternly to my supporters who don’t blindly support me any more. Make up some new derogatory term (Krugman,et al) DONE
-Cancel newspapers for the week.
-Trim nose hairs
-Buy new swim trunks
-Launch Justice Department probe into those a-holes at S&P. Gosh, more meanies! (Note: no probe into Fitch, they downgraded NJ. Christie=meanie) DONE
-Ignore revised jobless claims data (whistle while walking away slowly) DONE
Here are my Cranky boys on the beach at the Atlantis Resort, in the Bahamas. They had an awesome time, in spite of not staying in “better” accommodations.
Last Friday, the Cranky Daddy and I picked up the Cranky children early from school, and told them that they had doctor’s appointments. Curious about the Cranky Daddy’s presence, he just said he was along for the ride. Shockingly, there were no further questions. We began our trek heading out the Massachusetts Turnpike, Cranky Son #2 moaning and groaning all the way about missing recess, and not wanting to go to the doctor. Going to the doctor usually takes about 40 minutes, but we drove and drove and drove, crossing state lines to Connecticut (where we stopped and had lunch an hour and a half later) and then into New York. They were completely oblivious. At one point, Cranky Son #1 asked if we were going to be late, and I told them I was trying my best to get where we’re going on time.
The kids finally surmised that we weren’t going to the doctor’s after all, and we told them we were on an adventure. Aren’t adventures fun? But we wouldn’t tell them our true destination. While in New York, we stopped at a rest area that smelled strongly of horse manure. After we used the facilities, we told the kids this was our destination all along, that a guide-book said this was the nicest rest area in New York State. “Well, whaddaya think, guys?” we asked. They were horrified, and thought we had gone mad. We pointed out that they had restroom facilities, a picnic area complete with benches, and places to bar-b-que. “Isn’t this great? I hear that when the weather is warm, it’s a popular venue for weddings!” Then we discussed turning around and heading home – there would be a lot of traffic. The Cranky children were not amused, especially since they missed recess four hours earlier, and endured a long car ride in order to smell horse poo. I then told them that we might be able to hit the historic rest area on the way home – the one with pay toilets that still cost five cents! Grousing, but all the while reading through the new Star Wars books we bought, we crossed into Pennsylvania (another gigantic sign that nobody saw). Cranky Daddy and I spent the whole time giggling at how thick they were being. We actually drove right by our destination: The Great Wolf Lodge in the Poconos, and they didn’t see THAT enormous sign. We decided that “since we were about 1/3 of the way home, that we should eat before we made the final leg of our trip”. We ate at the Friendly’s that we’ve been to before on previous trips to the Poconos. When we turned into the Great Wolf Lodge, the high-pitched screaming began, and they were re-energized enough to spend 90 minutes or so in the water park. Surprise mission accomplished!
Washington: Department of Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano today announced a new program that will enable female commercial flyers to receive a Pap Smear in addition to the Mammogram they already receive as a part of new airport security measures implemented by the Transportation Safety Administration. Secretary Napolitano noted that “this is only a baby step for cross-agency cooperation for the betterment of our country’s health and security. It’s a grand day for women’s health in America!”. Secretary Napolitano was unsure if the new health measures would be in place for the Thanksgiving travel period, typically the busiest travel period of the year in America.
The Papanicolaou Test (“Pap” for short) is an internal exam that collects cells from a woman’s cervix with a special tool, and enables doctors to evaluate pre-cancerous or cancerous conditions. The Mammogram, of course, is an external testbreast designed to identify potential pre-cancerous irregularities.
Although many details have yet to be worked out (co-payments, medical records, inaccurate results), Vice President Joe Biden gave the new program an enthusiastic response while visiting a stimulus-funded new sidewalk in a vacant Detroit neighborhood. He said “Whoah, that’s great – we’re combining health care with security, wow, that’s a big f@*%ing deal! ” When Biden was asked if he would want his family to be subjected to the newly enhanced security/health procedures, he replied “Hell, no – I don’t even want my family to get that Swine Flu vaccine. I’ll stick to taking the train, thank you very much!”
If you ask my children how our trip to Bar Harbor, Maine was, the first thing they will start yapping about is how “Mom barfed”. Sadly, they are not lying.
The day started innocently enough: buffet breakfast at our hotel, some wandering around downtown Bar Harbor, a great lunch at Geddy’s. As we were leaving lunch, the Whale Watch pier was right across the street. “If we hurry we can make the 1pm whale watch” I stupidly said. Cranky Daddy ran down to where passengers board the enormous boat and asked if we could still get on. “Sure thing” said the friendly people there. We rushed upstairs to buy tickets while they held the boat for us. I informed the folks there that we weren’t Kennedys, and that this was so nice, and they were all “it’s no big deal”. Indeed. So we hustled onto the boat and the man at the ramp told us that there are 3 to 5 foot swells out there, to which I answered, “Well it’s no fun if there aren’t 5 foot swells!” How prophetic. We got some seats in the cabin of the second deck, and the boat started hauling out to where the whales supposedly feed. It was a very rough ride. The plan was to ride out about an hour, since the feeding grounds were about thirty miles outside the harbor. About 20 minutes in, people in the cabin started moaning and groaning and clinging to their “Sic-Sac” bags. (I looked it up and “Sic Sac” is still a widely available brand of leak-proof sickness bags that look like they were made in 1952). I wasn’t loving being indoors, so I stumbled my way outside for some air. Cranky Daddy and Cranky Son #1 wandered around, and Cranky Son #2 wasn’t going to leave his seat at any time. I went downstairs to buy some chocolate to make our tummies feel better, and the boys ate all of it. Now the temperature in the cabin had gone up about twenty degrees. I had my choice of freezing cold and wet outdoors or very nauseous hot and miserable indoors. At this time, people in the cabin were vomiting everywhere, and the heat plus the smell was horrific. Cranky Son #2 wasn’t budging, so I was spending only a minute at a time inside the cabin.
Finally we arrived at the mythical whale feeding grounds. The fog was very thick, and there was no way in hell we were going to see any whales. The naturalists use all their tricks (except sonar???) to spot some whales, but they couldn’t find any. I now understand that whales are expert at not being seen. Next course of action: relocate by traveling really fast again in choppy seas. Yay! I remained outside fighting the sea spray which was better than the alternative spray indoors. Stop numbers two and three did not yield any better results for watching whales, so the crew determined that it was time to go, after viewing zero whales for almost two hours on choppy seas. Don’t worry, though – they guarantee whale sightings or you get a voucher for another trip – for free! I’m almost 42 years old an I’ve never been seasick, but as we started the relatively smooth ride home, every bit of my digestive tract registered its displeasure. I asked the Cranky Daddy to get me a bag. What? “GET. ME. A. BAG.” In retrospect it was about as calm as the “Bring me a bucket” line from Monty Python fame. I puked my brains out with my sons on either side of me. During the wretched affair, one son rubbed my back and said “let it all out – you’ll feel much better” while the other son held my hand and let me know that I would “probably want to brush those teeth, or maybe rinse your mouth out”. It’s really funny to hear your own words come back at you in such a circumstance – I’ll never say those things again. They were very annoying and unhelpful. The four of us enjoyed the rest of the ride back to the harbor on the outside deck, where a man erupted in a spray of vomit two chairs down from us. He almost got it over the side. I like to think I just took care of business discreetly and moved on, as opposed to the poor folks who were moaning and retching and making lots of noise like BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAH – HOOOOWAHHAHH and ROWWWWWFFFFF. Seriously dramatic.
It took two full days for the world to stop moving when I shut my eyes. Good times. I’m sure this event will make the “What is did this summer” essays that are perennially required during the first week of school. If we’re lucky, Cranky son #2 won’t illustrate it.