Yeah, that was me up until an hour ago.  There isn’t enough vodka in the world to make me forget the road trip to and from hell this weekend.

First, I started Atkins yesterday, Day One of Two Day Road Trip, so of course, I had to be snarky AND difficult when choosing where we’d stop for lunch because sorry, scrambled eggs and nothing else really doesn’t last that long in your belly. I tried, though.  I did eat breakfast before we left.  Three fucking scrambled eggs. And some pistachios on the trip down south. I needed a goddamned SALAD.

Then, my obnoxious brother kept interrupting me all the way there and my lovely non-BF, who is WAY too nice to say, “Shut the fuck UP, dude!” like I would have (and did, quite a few times) just contributed to me getting more and more pissed off at him. My brother. And yes, sometimes the non-BF.  And probably you, if you had walked by at the wrong moment. Hell! I wanted some bread in the worst possible way!

By the way, I really don’t get the appeal behind road trips?  You are stuck in a car for hours.  There are accidents and traffic jams, and the restaurants that are close to the major highways? Ick.

Nope, plop me on a fucking plane and serve me cocktails and make me forget that yeah, I’m 35,000 feet in the air and we, as humans, are really NOT supposed to be doing this shit.  And please, Baby Jesus, don’t let my plane be the one in 3,000,000 odds that crashes.  Did I just see the captain or pilot or whateveryoucallhim taking a drink? Was that gin? Oh hell, hand me a Xanax!  *Note: I am TOTALLY over that stage in my Traveler Life now.  I don’t even flinch in horrible turbulence when others about the cabin are turning green. But there was a day when I did…

I knew someone who only went on vacations where they could drive (no, not my parents, even though, yes, that would be them as well).  Wow, how limiting.  Where are you gonna go when you’ve seen everything in America??  It’s not even about the money – it’s all that TIME spent in a car just getting there. AND they went to the same place every year.  “Hey! Maybe it’s changed since last year? No, wait, still the same.” Give me a new adventure any day.

So back to this road trip.  I volunteered to drive back. We are heading out of the destination city today, driving home.  When I-35 decides to back the hell up like me on Thanksgiving, where I start reliving the past six hours of overeating, but in a physical way, not in a nostalgic way, unless you count throwing up in my mouth “nostalgic,” the non-BF and I decided on the 281 Detour.

281 Ways to Delay Your Trip

281 Minutes More Than You Should Have Spent On The Road

281 Reasons Why I Won’t Be Visiting San Antonio Anytime Soon

Six and a half hours later, I am home.  He still has a road trip to get him home.  I’m just glad I don’t have to be sitting my ass behind a wheel, braking to make the assholes behind me slow down and speeding up to pass the asshats in front of me who don’t get the Left Is A Passing Lane, Motherfuckers! rule.

I’m way too angry to go on a road trip.  Staying home next time.  Just bring me a souvenir