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The Bang Bang Theories

Slice of Heaven

Happy Fourth of July week, Reader! Lots of things that go “bang bang” are all around.

Me? What am I  doing? Well, how nice of you to ask!

I just got back from a shortie cruise to Bermuda, from New Jersey.  We travelled on Anthem of the Seas, which was a new ship and a new destination for me, so win-win.  And we DROVE there, which is also a first-in-a-very-long-time for me, as I don’t generally do driving trips because long driving trips take up too much of the actual vacationing time. However, flight prices were horrendous and I refused to be a party to these airline games so we loaded up and made the trip, heading out on a Wednesday after working all day.

Guess what make for a really long day?

Heading out on a roadtrip at 7 p.m. at night after working all day.

I wasn’t even driving and was sick of driving.

It felt like we were in the car for hours and hadn’t covered any ground.

Of course, we did stop in PA at the original Quaker Steak & Lube ’cause a girl’s gotta eat, and that probably didn’t help the drivetime at all.

And then after we stopped to fill up the car, the dash “lit up like a Christmas tree” as it was described by MM. And so he and Dan put their heads together and opened the hood of the car and shrugged their shoulders and we all sat and just sort of looked at each other.

Me, being the bossypants of the group, said, “Let’s just keep going if the car doesn’t feel like its acting like an asshole,” because a girl’s also got a cruise ship to catch in the morning and sitting in a gas station at midnight in bumfuck nowhere isn’t moving the agenda forward.

So we did, and we made it to a Quality Inn Motel somewhere about three hours from our Final Destination, which gave us enough time to get up, have complimentary waffles, and figure out wtf to do with the broken Lexus.

Me, being the self-annointed thinker of the group, called the Lexus dealership back in Cle and asked to speak to a person who actually knows stuff about all those engine lights and not just an appointment scheduler. So the guy said, “Eh, if it feels like it’s running fine, just keep going.”

So that’s what we did. And we made it all the way to the cruise port without breaking down, and then the toughest decision I had to decide was how many airline-sized bottles of forbidden alcohol I was going to shove up each of our buttholes, because I was hellbent on doing a little liquor smuggling, despite the fact we get a lot of free liquor on the ship already.

No one was volunteering up their buttholes for smuggling purposes. Surprisingly.

So I went with Plan B because again, I’m the thinker,  which was loading up some pants pockets. Boring, if you ask me, but at that point no one was asking.

Our only stop on this trip was Bermuda, and I pay so little attention to my vacation plans that all along I thought we were stopping overnight there, and then My John Boy said nope, it’s just a one-day trip, so that was disappointing. Luckily she planned out where we needed to go in that short time, so we dipped our toes in yet another one of the Top 10 Most Beautiful Beaches, Horseshoe Bay Beach, and it was lovely, if a little on the cold side.

I’m used to more tropical southern water, and the cooler water in Bermuda took a moment of adjusting.

But that pink sand!! So worth it.  Of course I took a picture. And then realized I had some people’s legs and not-so-attractive butts in there, and asked my Artist to use his magic skills to remove, and he did.

And he left me with a little something extra, see below.

The point is, you don’t always get what you ask for. Sometimes you get a random penis pointing the way.

There are still a couple of vacation stories to share, but I purchased a set of really amazing, grown-up Wusthof knives, and mother-of-fuck, they are not kidding with those German steel blades as I’ve not only stabbed myself with the point of two different ones tonight as I was attempting to use them for the first time, but I was joking that they could probably slice my finger clean off if I ‘twernt careful and the next second I near sliced my finger clean off. Except with less drama than that sentence implies, and really just sliced off some of the skin on the side of my pointer, leaving a flap-over behind, but it hurts and was bleeding like a ‘mo-fo, and of course I don’t have new old job insurance until August 1st so I had to apply a lot of pressure and hope for the best because I cannot afford to get ‘er stitched up by a professional. I need to put those knives on a hiatus until August.

And that’s the reason you’re not getting more stories right now as my pointer finger is bandaged up and needs to rest. And also why I shouldn’t be allowed to have grown-up knives.

Lastly, the car of course made it home or I wouldn’t be sitting around Chez Bang Bang slicing off body parts and showing you sand dicks, and what a loss that would be for you, Reader. Because sometimes mechanics work with the ‘eh let it sit for a while and maybe the car will just fix itself’ method which it did and all the Christmas tree lights were off by the time we docked and headed for home. And that’s what we call a Christmas-tree-light dashboard miracle.

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