Guess Who's Back?  

Ahhhhh. Vacation. How sweet it was. So good in fact that it's taken two full days of work to snap me back to this humdrum existence oft referred to as "reality." Sadly, despite numerous attempts and countless scars to prove it, reality isn't exactly a nuisance I can ignore like Jehovah's Witnesses. Although I've learned that alcohol does well to mute reality's impact on me, it also does pretty damn well to mute the part of my conscience that keeps from exposing myself to strangers on the bus. Moving on.

A week away is really only long enough to whet your appetite, to get your frame of mind primed for laid-back living. Then, just as you start maximizing your relaxation, you get ripped from your womb of contentment and have your ass double-slapped by the hands of responsibility and accountability. "Oh, that's right." you start to remember. "I have shit to do."

I will say, however, that this year was the most fun I've had to date. We spent a lot of time at the beach, little time spending money, and I even had fun shooting the two worst games of golf in my life. The funny part for me is that I drank way less than I ever have on vacation. It should be of little surprise then that I only gained 5 pounds this year, nowhere close to rivaling the obscene 16 extra pounds of me that came back from the beach in 2007.

My return to the working world was wholly unceremonious, save the yet identified co-worker(s) that transformed my cubicle into a palace for kittens. Pictures adorned the walls, paw prints weaved throughout my desk and cabinets, and other assorted tchotchke was placed with just enough discretion to make my workspace look like it quite possibly belongs to the gayest man alive. I wore my shame well though, keeping it up for an entire day. You know, in consideration of the great effort that was expended and all. Plus it served as a welcome distraction, as several times I imagined each of the furry little bastards was a tiger, who might just leap from the walls and upon me, offering a merciful end to the vacation withdrawals that were starting to creep in.

Now that the pleasure coma has faded, I rescind to normalcy once more. On the bright side, there is still plenty of warm weather left, and work isn't really the loathsome, giant sucking void on my soul that I make it out to be. Not that I don't have an exit strategy heavily leveraged on lottery tickets, but who doesn't? Am I right? Hello?

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