Christmas is almost upon us and the one thing about Christmas that is almost a dead certain is the fact that I'm going to be going on another road trip to British Columbia and it also certainly means that something terrible is going to happen on this road trip. It's not like I'm being a road trip grouch or anything but considering that the last few times I went on a road trip we had several dead animals flung at our windshield and that one time I started hysterically crying because our hotel got messed up and I ended up having to sleep in a grocery store parking lot. Yeah, that time was fun.
This year we are driving down to The Pilot's parents' house for Christmas because for some reason it always ended up in the last two years my parents got all the holidays and The Pilot's family was neglected. I'm not sure how that ended up happening as it did but I'm also not saying it may have been rigged that I always won the road trip destination lottery. Because it's fixed. That's what I'm saying.
Of course this means that we're going to have to pack that asshole that lives with us into the back seat and it's always fun to be on a two day road trip when your dog acts like you've punched his mother in the uterus and destroyed his siblings in front of him or something because that's how he totally acts.
I'm anticipating horrible things to happen that will eventually turn out to be something we can laugh pompously about in years to come because I imagine myself to be rather pompous in my old age and the type of person that will drink Bourbon from fancy glasses and wear golden underwear and blankets made out of thousand dollar bills.
Basically, I picture myself as Donald Trump when I'm older and that's fucking weird because I'm a girl and don't have a penis.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
I once punched a baby kitten and then it died of cancer. The punch might have given it cancer. Comment or I'll punch you in the baby-maker.