Ok, so I am still feeling like this, but I do not sound SO much like Jabba the Hut pleasuring himself.
I was born with a travel itch but due to recent illnesses beyond my control, it has escalated to obsessive status; one can only watch so much Paranormal State and Travel Channel before if starts to get a little...
I would go here first....there is not enough time in a day to cover this ethereal secret.
Next up is South Africa, which hopefully will be a real possibility next year. Matt, my husband, and I are working on that little slice now. Their fucking textiles alone are enough to propel one over on pirate ridden seas in a drug cartel loaded vessel; fuck, I just may. But the promise of little to no white people is also a deal sweetener.
Lastly, I would stalk around Venice; wearing Rodarte. (It's my fantasy and I AM wearing Rodarte in it.) If I need to delve further into Venice, please stop reading this and never come back. The promise of a South Beach Diet and your manic Tivoing of Housewives of NJ has ensured that you will remain culturally devoid of any real life experience and has left you a lost cause which I am not capable of helping. Good day to you.
For the rest of you, today when your boss condescends to you because he is a puke pile piece of shit, has still never told anyone about the boy in gym who's knob he shined and enjoyed it but stayed in a 5 year marriage to make Daddy proud; know that your comfortability with your self is what is so unsettling to others and they will try to take it from you. Don't let them, they are a means to an end; you will never be in a permanent fetal position yet that is the only one they hold.
"Resist much. Obey little."
