How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Whoa. That’s way too hard. Basically, I drank way too much beer, wine and whiskey to remember all the way back to mid-June. In fact, I didn’t really have a vacation. I did a bunch of engineering stuff for my real job and played Clash of Clans in my downtime.

So instead of attempting to recall 12 weeks of muddled memories, I’ll just update you as to…

How I Spent my Saturday

So much easier, mostly because I slept in and can’t really recall the last few hours.

“So Jon, how did you spend your Saturday?” you ask. Thanks for that, as I was already getting sidetracked.

Well, I ventured East, to the land of Michelob Ultra, Dodge Ram pickup trucks and garage parties. Some know this area as Macomb, or May-comb, or even the 586 or 48044. Most of my 251 Facebook friends think I look down my sexy nose at it, but I really don’t. I think the 48044 is a swell place to live, just so long as you don’t have to go anywhere in your car.

My sister Gladys lives in the 586 with her husband, Frank. They have a sweet pad with a brand new in-ground pool that sucks water out of the pool and shoots it back in. It’s totally fresh. Gladys invited Kitty and me over for the sole purpose of getting me drunk. Last time we were at her pool, Kitty drank 72oz of Lime-a-ritas and got her goofy eye back (she had one when she was a kid). I had no intention of making this mistake, so I stuck to beer and Rumchata.  If candy got you effed-up, they would name it Rumchata. 

Gladys used to be a real baby-making machine, so she has 3 offspring and Kitty has popped out two. They now range in ages from 8 to 12, and they had a swell old time hanging out, drinking red sugar water that comes in molded plastic barrel-looking things and eating Uncle Franks burgers. We got those little fuckers so amped up, they had a belly-flop contest that made one of ‘em vomit up his dinner. Before you call CPS, we fed that one again, okay.

Later that evening, when I was having trouble spelling my name and the offspring were all passed out from their sugar high, Frank turned the pool up to 170° and we took another dip. I determined that Styrofoam noodles are a good gauge of one’s fatness, and one should really strive for a one-noodle-floatation experience. I’m not sure how the night ended, but my mouth tasted like Backwood’s cigars and I had two random beers that weren’t mine in my cooler. 

2014 SPRING BREAK 48044!

L8rz,

JMc2Noodles