When did this turn into va–fucking–cation week?
I haven’t been out of town in over a year. And I don’t mean, like, I haven’t been on a real vacation in over a year. No. I mean that for the past 12 months, I have been held prisoner within the city limits of New Orleans, the Big Easy, Sweet Lady Gumbo, Old…Swampy. Except for the occasional Wal-Mart spree in the suburbs, I’ve not strayed more than five miles from my own home. And I’m not even under house arrest or anything. And I can’t feasibly go anywhere interesting for many more months.
<tantrum> Wah, wah, wah. Blech. Phooey. </tantrum>
Although I detest the thought of moving, even that’s starting to look appealing.
Calgon, take me away.
How’s about helping a guy out? I want a little break from humdrum reality. I’m not asking for a free trip to the Ural Mountains or anything. Tell me a story, share some exceptionally good porn, whatever. Entertain me.
sturtle [dot] com 