me whenever my wifi signal is weakening: ♪♫ "I'm holdin' on but I'm barely breathin'..."♪♫

Today I gave myself a flat tire while I was walking, which I thought was physically impossible. How does someone even do that to themselves? 

If you had to choose between world peace and eating chocolate with every meal, would you have dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

I think about things. Sometimes a little too much. My brain doesn't let me sleep at night (especially lately...it's like, yo brain, it is not Daylight Savings Time yettttt #help). I keep thinking about my future and how my present is affecting my future and what I can do to help it along, because the future is now, and it's tomorrow, and I worry too much. That's just it. I need to stop worrying so much. I think if my heart could talk to my brain, it would say, "Baby, can you just chill for like 5 seconds?" Srsly. Calm the h down.

This blog post is just a brain barf, strictly for me. Hopefully you guys don't mind that I plaster all my ape-crazy thoughts on the internet. I feel vulnerable about it sometimes, but I mean...you don't read my journal (except for when I put that on the internet too, oops). Right? Why am I justifying this?! Gah! Overthinking again.

I think it's story time. Story time always brought joy into my heart in elementary school, especially if it was Roald Dahl (and it was always Roald Dahl, lezbehonest).

So once upon a time, I went on this road trip. In Mexico. It was a 12-hour drive (woof) to a beach town, and some ruins, and tacos al pastor. You would drive 12 hours for tacos al pastor if you had ever tasted tacos al pastor. Truuuusssttt me.

???????????????????????

(I'd just like to speak up for Sara here and say she just reached out, with reckless abandon, not thinking about where she was reaching. *drops mic*)

So we're road-trippin it, like white people do, with our Ritz crackers (or the Mexican equivalent, which is actually really grodie) and liters of Jarritos and fruit snacks and Chokis (not the gross tattoo necklaces of 90's. Duh. These were like Chips Ahoy, but 10 zillion times better, amen.). I had my Coldplay playlist ready. I mean. It was just...it was great. Road trips. But we didn't know that road trips in Mexico are a little different than they are in the Estados Unidos.

First of all, there are no rest stops. So if you have to relieve yourself, you gotta wait 'til the next gas station, which will just tempt you to buy more junk food and more Jarritos, which will make you have to go to the bathroom again. It got to the point where we would hold races on who got out of the bathroom first. It gets to be a little hard though, when they charge you for squares of toilet paper, per square.

You wanted proof. I have proof. Sorry mom that this picture exists of my hand holding toilet paper which I paid for and then used. Ugh what a terrible sentence

So our plan-o was, in order to save some monies, we would just have the bus driver drive through the night until we got to the beach.

Ummmmmmmm did you know you can't sleep on buses in Mexico? Like it's physically impossible. Because of the roads. Because there are speed bumps on the freeway and also potholes the size of Montana, so when the bus driver hits them going full-throttle, you wake up in a daze, in the air, thinking "Wait why am I levitating?" and then ka-blam, you land on your tush and your short life flashes before your eyes and all you can think of is the tacos al pastor you'll never get to try because you think you're dying, but you're actually just on a road trip.

I gave up on sleeping at around 1am, and started to take some delirious photos, which I now treasure. It's like seeing through the eyes of a drunk person. #drunkonsleep #represent #imstillwhite

#art

HAHAHA

Then I turned around and took a picture of the people behind me. About 75% of the people in this photo threw up at some point in the evening, because oh yeah, I forgot to mention, but the road we were on curved like a snake for 10 HOURS. Even the bus driver was leaning out his window and barfing. Which is just the most comforting thing, as I'm sure you can imagine.

sorry Italia. The literal translation of the light-up thing is "We Didn't Know What We Were Getting Into When We Started This Please Help Us"

#noitdoesn't

Well, by morning, we had finally reached le beach, and stumbled out of the bus nearly unconscious and covered in each other's barf (realness is what I strive for, yo. realness). The ocean was a glorious sight to see. We moved like people move that have just been discharged from the hospital way too early, if you know what I'm saying.

That day, we sat on the beach all day long. I made a very unwise decision in that I put sunblock on exactly one time, and that was right before I went swimming. By the end of the day I was fried like a Twinkie at the fair. I could barely walk I was so sunburned, and an entire bottle of aloe vera didn't do much besides make me feel like a swamp monster.

I drank about 4 gallons of agua because my body's temperature was jacked up to 1,000 degrees, and of course, that filled up my bladder quite efficiently. I like to know that my bladder is working, you guys. Even if it's an overachiever and causes me to have accidents sometimes, like for example, at the tender age of 7, right before the school bell rang and I was scrambling to put my jacket around my waist when the kid with the rattail mullet came out of class and said "YOU PEED YOUR PANTS!" I think rattail mullets should be outlawed. Just for the record.

So, as you can imagine, that night in Mexico, I did not want to change into my jammies, much less shower, because any movement caused me to feel like ten volcanoes were erupting on the surface of my skin. #ouch

But I had been road tripping for over a day, and there was definitely barf residue on my clothes, and Mexico beach residue, etc, etc etc. So I showered. In Mexico, the toilet and shower area aren't separated by anything. No little wall or tub or anything. It's all the same floor area. Ya feel me? Do you see where this is going? Straight to haaaaaaillllll.

I was showering and minding my own bidnez (like most people do when they are showering....??) when I noticed the toilet water starting to overflow....

Is it weird to get on your knees and pray in the shower?

Yeah. It's weird. I didn't do that.

But I know I screamed, which probz woke up everybody in the hostel, and probably in the country, because YO, toilET WAter was FLOWING TOWARDs me! And I was completely exposed to it! A river of death and disease was making its way toward me, and I felt something like what the Egyptians probably felt when the Red Sea was hurtling towards their perfectly eyelined faces. I know that was sacreligious butttt....

I immediately screeched through the slatted door to my roommates to go get a toilet plunger from the hostel manager/owner/whoever was sitting by the front desk and had a mustache. They came back and reported that duh, there were no plungers up in here because this is Mexico, and the plumbing is super lame and everyone just deals with it.

Why? WHy. I didn't do anything to deserve this. I didn't even use the toilet to make it overflow. So WHERE WAS THE JUSTICE. I resigned myself to this awful fate, while the toilet water started to make its way toward the door....which led to the room....I mean. Get yo hasmat suits on, errybody!

Btw, I was still in showering mode, if you know what I mean. Luckily, being without clothing does not hinder my thinking abilities. I actually get the best ideas while in the shower! So maybe this was meant to be. I can't believe I just said that about almost drowning in toilet water.

Well, I thought as fast as I possibly could, and mustered up all the courage I had left in me, and thrust my fist into the...toilet....

I've never actually typed or written those words. This was going to be one of those oral legends that just gets passed down through generations, and never written down until someone like Shakespeare or Homer got a hold of it and made it sound 10x more eloquent than it actually is.

I used my fist as a plunger, and it worked just fine, but then I used up the entire bottle of soap I had on just that arm.

I wouldn't blame any of you if you never wanted to touch me again.

There is a good ending to this story, however! We got our tacos al pastor. Heh.

And then we drove home on a different road, which wasn't as curvy. 

Road trips.