My lovely wife at Hollywood Studios.

If you’re really looking for ways to procrastinate, I’ve posted more pictures from our Disney trip.

Me: Grrrr…

Wife: Don’t be mad — just listen to The Go-Go’s!

Me: Fine. They better have the beat.

Wife: They DO have the beat!

The Go-Go’s: ♫ We got the beat! ♫

And all was right with the world.

Except for, like — you know — famine and war and shit.

But… well, you get the idea.

And the fact that she has not thrown me bodily from a moving vehicle is a testament to her preternatural patience.

However, I am quite certain that when she finally does snap and fill my ear canal with millipedes, it will have been motivated by a variant of the following statement:

“That’s awesome — can I [blog/twitter] that?”

My Lovely Wife: suppressing a killing rage for your amusement.

Me: You know what’s on her CD player, don’t you?

My Lovely Wife: What?

Me: TERRIBLE music. Maroon 5, Mariah Carey…

My Lovely Wife: I disagree.

Me: Really?

My Lovely Wife: Yes. She’s “New Country”.

Me: Wait! I know what she has on her CD player!

My Lovely Wife: What?

Me: Well, anyone that really knows her knows that she tells everyone that she likes “all kinds of music”.

My Lovely Wife: And?…

Me: So… she has Maroon 5, Mariah Carey, AND New Country.

My Lovely Wife: Ah. That sounds right.

…

My Lovely Wife and I — stereotyping Chevy Cavalier drivers so you don’t have to.

“dude srsly. what up. u r lamez. COME BACK TO THE INTERNET.”

-Sweetney

Hellzapopping, my peeps. THE GUILT. I have THE GUILT.

For the past [rustle rustle rustle] too-freaking-long, I’ve being buzzing along, with this nagging, chronic ache in my belly. An ache that said, “Sommmmethinnnnng… izzzzzzzz… wroooooonnnnng.”

But you know what I said to that nagging, chronic ache?

“Yo! My homey! Chill! Everything is GROOVY. I’m just busy. All cylinders firing, know what I’m saying? I’ll get back on that horse [Cut to shot of bleached horse skeleton in the desert, single tumbleweed drifting by] soon enough. Cool. Your. Jets.”

Yes. I really said this. And then I punched that nagging, chronic ache in the arm. Like a drinking buddy. Or second cousin.

But things… As they say — THINGS HAVE COME TO A HEAD.

I HAVE THE GUILT.

DAMN YOU, GUILT! STOP EATING MY INSIDES!

YEEEEEEEEARGH! MY PROCRASTINATION! IT GNAWS AT ME! LIKE A SECOND COUSIN, HUNGRY FOR PIE!

…

Oh. By the bye, it is My Lovely Wife’s birthday today. Shout-outs are appreciated.

As is, as always… pie.

We haven’t even hit the halfway point.

And My Lovely Wife just stuck her tongue out at me.

Malaysia, here we come!

This is what’s going to happen.

It’s going to be March 21st.

We’re going to get on a plane. This plane will go to Toronto. I will strain my neck trying to spot my old neighbourhood out the window. I will fail.

We will then exit that plane and promptly enter a second plane. This plane will then go to Los Angeles. We will not have time for fish tacos. We will instead exit the second plane and enter a third.

This plane will then head out over the Atlantic Pacific [Whoops!] and cross the International Date Line. (“What do you mean it’s Sunday? WTF??”)

This plane will not hesitate at the International Date Line. I believe a mid-air hesitation is what is known as a “nose-dive”. Word on the street is that this is to be avoided.

Instead, the plane — the third one, for those keeping track at home — will head directly to Taipei. There, it will stop for pee breaks and little else.

This plane will then take to the air one more time for the final leg (of this part of the journey), finally landing in Kuala Lampur.

Which is in MALAYSIA.

We will spend three days in Kuala Lampur. Most likely, this will be spent in the death grip of jet lag.

After three days, we will then enter the fourth (FOURTH!) plane of our journey. This plane will head out over THE SOUTH CHINA SEA. (Yes. It is as cool to type that as it seems.) This plane will then land in Kota Kinabalu.

On BORNEO.

And then… we will go here:

Oh. Yeah.

Somewhere in there will be a wedding we’ll be attending.

Probably of greater concern to others reading this is the fact that COME HELL OR HIGH WATER… we will be seeing these:

That’s right.

ORANGUTANS, BITCHES!

Oh. I shall be pleased.

Once we have sated ourselves on extensive Every Which Way But Loose ribaldry — and other assorted Borneo-ific delights — we will be heading back on another plane to Kuala Lampur (plane no. 5), and then onto another (no. 6) which will mosey it’s way over to Shanghai, then back over the International Date Line (“A free day? FTW!!”), and then back into Los Angeles.

We will then have ten hours.

In LOS ANGELES.

Comments? Suggestions?

Fish Tacos?

And then… we’ll head back to Canada (planessevenandeight).

Sigh.

…

I think I need a pith helmet.

If she just barely wakes up — and I mean just barely — the weirdest stuff comes out of her mouth. She starts spouting off random, totally unrelated words. Like, “Horseradish! Samsonite! Palamino! Oligarchy!”

I’ve told her about this and sometimes she tries to fool me into thinking she’s asleep. But it’s never the same. She either just makes up completely nonsensical sounds — “Blah! Fneck! Schlurg!” — or uses words that are too small and/or related to each other — “Cat! Pee! And poop! Heehee!”

Not the same.

This morning however… she moved past words and into the realm of full-on sentences. I was up — like I so often am on Saturdays — at 7:00. (Stupid ingrained sleep patterns.) So I’m doing my regular tiptoeing around, getting the laptop, working my way through my RSS feeds.

Suddenly, My Lovely Wife’s head shoots up off the pillow and — without opening her eyes — turns her head from side to side and yells:

“Who’s there? What’s going on? Who killed Kennedy?”

And then she fell back asleep for another hour and a half.

Never boring.