Leavin' On A Jet Plane

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go...

OK I really don't hate to go. I'm so excited I might pee my pants. I will miss all of you and think of you as I bake in the sun and drink til my liver explodes. This is my last post until June 1st. Please don't forget about me. Danny don't you dare fuckin' unlink me. And you bitches give TMC a lot of attention but not TOO much if you know what I mean. I am giving you a copy of my itinerary so y'all can think about me. It'll be almost like you are there but not quite.

Saturday 5:00a.m.
Pop first Xanax so I can fly without freaking out and being arrested by the Air Marshals

Saturday 6:00a.m.
Repeat repeatedly "The plane will not crash. The plane will not crash."

Saturday 8ish
Curse the fucking DFW airport. Run like crazy. Curse some more for not having a direct flight.

Saturday 9ish
Repeat repeatedly, "The plane will not crash. The plane will not crash."

Saturday 11:00a.m.
Purchase first of many in flight alcoholic beverages.

Saturday 2:30p.m.
See the ocean. Decide the plane will crash into the ocean and I will be eaten by sharks. My blog friends will never know. I will just disappear. Repeat repeatedly, "The plane will not crash. The plane will not crash."

Saturday 3:00p.m.
Finally get out of the fucking airport. See my mommy wearing some kind of goddamn weirdo hat. Praise Jesus it's not Christmas time so she doesn't meet me with those fucking antlers on again.

Saturday night
Eat, drink, be merry.

Sunday 8:00a.m.
"Fucking Christ, I'm not gettting on that seaplane." Repeat repeatedly, "The plane will not crash. If it does the sharks will eat me. I do not want to be eaten. The plane will not crash. If it does the sharks will eat me. I do not want to be eaten. "

Sunday 8:30a.m.
Arrive in St. Thomas

Sunday
Check into the hotel. Hit the beach. Begin drinking. Eat lobster for dinner.

Monday
Wake up. Hit the beach. Begin drinking. Eat lobster for dinner.

Tuesday
Wake up. Hit the beach. Begin drinking. Eat lobster for dinner.

Wednesday
Ferry to Tortola. Drink on ferry. Hit the beach and begin drinking more. Think about eating lobster for dinner.

Thursday
Snorkle in Virgin Gorda. Freak out because the sharks will want to snack on me. Drink at night. Eat more lobster.

Friday
Ferry to Jost Van Dyke. Hit the beach. Drink. Go to Foxy's on Friday night. Probably puke up the lobster I had for dinner.

Saturday
Wake up, hit the beach, begin drinking. Eat fish for dinner. (Hey, I gotta mix it up a little.)

Sunday 8:00a.m.
"Fucking Christ, I'm not gettting on that seaplane." Repeat repeatedly, "The plane will not crash. If it does the sharks will eat me. I do not want to be eaten. The plane will not crash. If it does the sharks will eat me. I do not want to be eaten. "

Sunday 8:30a.m.
Arrive back in Puerto Rico. Sleep. Wake up. Go to beach. Drink.

Monday
Shop. Get lots of presents from my mommy. Spend last day looking for Sugar Daddy so I don't have to go home.

Tuesday
Fuck I have to come home. Do the whole xanax, airport, plane will not crash, fucking DFW airport extravaganza. Weep silently about having to go back to work