I am so Hardcore (or I’m Not Dead Yet)

Dear Internets,

Yeah.

So.

Um.

Sorry.

I was going to tell y'all that I was leaving on vacation, and then I got all excited about jetting out of town (OK, not jetting, driving. In a fabulous rented Toyota Corolla. Yes, it was fabulous. Shut up. You can have your dreams of luxury, and I can have mine, OK?) and I didn’t post the post that I was planning to post to let you know I was going to be gone.

So when I got back, I got all these messages, “Are you OK? What’s happening? Are you dead?” and I felt bad, but also kind of vindicated, like the internet NOTICES when I’m gone.  I am friggin' famous.

Here’s an example of what happened when I came back to Google+ and put up a picture:

(click to enlarge picture)

My old buddy, we’ll call him “Pyro” for the sake of the story (just randomly and NOT because he set me on fire one time in a coffee shop but that WASN’T the reason we called him Pyro, and I mean, hypothetically, if we DID call him Pyro back in “the day” it wouldn’t have anything to do with setting himself on fire at a 7-Eleven or anything). Anyway, Pyro noticed I was gone. Angie Uncovered and Hoodyhoo and Wagthedad noticed I was missing. Heck. I’ll bet loads of people noticed I was MIA.

So driving this morning, I said to Boyfriend, “All these internet people noticed I was missing!”
Boyfriend: “They’re addicted to you.”

Me: “I feel so loved!”

Boyfriend: “… Gee. Thanks.”

Me: “Awww… I didn’t mean that.” Reaches over and pats his leg, “I just mean I’m loved by strangers.”

There was a pause.

We both talked at once.

Me: “Yeah, that didn’t come out right.”
Boyfriend: “I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

Me: “OK, and it isn’t like they’re strangers, anyway. I met them on the internet.”

Boyfriend, “OK, that’s better then.”

So what I ‘m saying, Internets, is that I didn’t mean to worry you.

XOXOXOX Leauxra

P.S. This is the post that I forgot to post before I left off posting.
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Sometimes, I think that deep down I really just want to be totally straight edge. No smokes, no alcohol, no meat, no caffeine, nothing.  I imagine I would feel really good, become a morning person, and be all kinds of superior to the other mortals.

Luckily, when I think I want to be all awesome and healthy, my mind goes, “AAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! FRIED CHICKEN!!!!!!!!! BEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!”

I keep sabotaging my poor health choices by doing things like this:

I take a week off from work to go on vacation.

I don’t go to Cabo san Lucas where the margaritas are plentiful.

I don’t go on a cruise.

I don’t even go somewhere tropical at all.

I don't go to a place famous for the cuisine.

Where I am going, there will be no cabana boys to refill my pina coladas.

Where I am going, there will be no room service, no gambling, no flushing toilets, no motorized vehicles, and no alcohol at all. I can’t even bring my own. There will be no towels to steal. There will not, in fact, even be “permanent shelter”.  I will not have access to a phone or the internet (although it is possible I will see a double rainbow).

And yet, I am desperately excited to go.

Crazy, right?

I promise, this isn’t some psychological break. This is something awesome.

No, I am not joining a cult.

I leave in the morning. I will be back in a bit over a week.

All packed up and ready to go (I am not bringing the Jazzy cat nor the couch).

(Written on 9/16 and I left the next morning.  More to come)