You’re welcome, Vegas.

Which means, yes, I AM rubbing it in.

Travis and I haven’t been to Vegas together since before we left for Germany (although we each made trips with friends all the way from Deutschland).

So this is the weekend I go, drop a dollar in a MegaBucks machine and come home one trillion dollars richer. In which case, I will quit my job and blog full time. (What a promise!)

In addition, the newer the carpet, the more quantity of vomit can be expected.

Finally, the said pet may go to the kitty ICU for a long (very expensive) weekend and will not vomit ONE SINGLE TIME.

And as this DB continued to swerve around (nearly hitting the cement median at one point), I got a little irked. I mean, first of all, it’s before 8 a.m. which is enough to irk ANYONE, right? And also it’s a traffic jam. You don’t just go sliding around like you’re on the Autobahn with no regard to anyone else while you’re trying to cut me off with your little trailer thing. AND ALSO, get some working brake lights, moron.

So an irked Erin is not a good Erin. I called the non-emergency police line and reported his ass. Afterward, I kept waiting for the cops to come racing up the highway and give him a good old fashioned police beating, but I never saw sweet justice. Alas, I have a little fantasy that I like to play through in my head that involves multiple high-priced tickets being issued at this very moment.

Note to readers: don’t cut me off.

For.

My.

VACATION.

What the hell was I thinking? Was it something along the lines of “You know, Erin, you really don’t work hard enough in that office. Why don’t you find something that is going to physically and mentally push you to the edge, then take a week ‘off’ and go for it?”

Admittedly, there were some really great memories. I cried multiple times about the generosity and sincerity of the residents of Iowa. (Also, I’m an emotional sap.) Crossing the finish line on Saturday was one of my personal greatest achievements, especially after the temptation to run my bike off the road a few times earlier in the week.

You’d better believe that my next vacation will involve a beach and a few cocktails with umbrellas in them, though.

A few years ago I went to get an innocent flu shot at work and I froze up. Standing in line, I got so worked up that I made myself sick to my stomach and not only did I never get the shot, I also had to leave work early. I am THAT pathetic.

Suffice it to say, I have NEVER had a flu shot and even when I am forced to get shots at the doctor, I work myself into such a panic that I am practically crying by the time they’re swabbing my arm up.

So it should surprise no one that I have never given blood. Because - gah! - that would involve a needle in my arm for far, far longer than I care to have one in there.

But yesterday the mobile blood drive came to work and I decided to conquer my fear and tick one off the bucket list. I steeled myself and went in, thinking of all the thousands of people that do this every single day and SURVIVE. And how important it is to the community. And on and on.

After answering 49(!) questions about myself and my lifestyle, I was taken into a little consultation room where the guy sat down and reviewed my answers. I kept hoping that something would throw me out - my tetanus shot 8 weeks ago? My trip to Egypt in February? There’s got to be SOMETHING that will get me out of this, right? Then the interviewer asked if I’d traveled out of the country in the past 12 months.

Well, yeah.

17 countries (each one needing to be looked up in a book to make sure I was safe) and 40 minutes later, they finally plopped me in a chair. The problem was that I had a meeting at this 40-minute-later-mark, and I had no idea that this blood thing was also going to include a background check on my entire family, including the cat. So, I let them at me, thinking I’d just go to my meeting a few minutes late. They’d see the huge wrap on my arm and all would be forgiven.

The blood donation went ok. I can’t say it was the funnest experience of my life, but I kept telling myself that someone, somewhere, needed my liquid gold. And when they pulled my plug and released me back into the wild, I ran up to my meeting, sat down, and promptly passed out.

The “Oh shit, call 9-1-1″ scream snapped me out of it pretty damn quick, and I tried to encourage an un-call of 911. Unless the firemen came first, and unless they were hot. Otherwise, I was fine.

Mortified and embarrassed, but for the most part, fine.

Needless to say, I was taken out of the meeting and back to the blood van where they checked my vitals and deemed it time for me to go home. Because no matter what shenanigans I tried, they weren’t going to bring out the hot firefighters.

I’ll have to come up with another tactic next time around.

Separately, of course. Who wants to actually celebrate an anniversary together?

We had planned for YEARS to go to a wedding in Kansas City on this weekend. And by “years” I mean, we knew we’d go to this wedding even before we knew there’d be a wedding. He’s THAT kind of friend. So when the date was announced and it happened to be our anniversary - great. We’ll celebrate it by a mini holiday!

Then about two weeks ago my boss springs a trip to Chicago on me. Now, I do love me some Chicago and I do love me some airplane time (seriously, I can not get enough!), but my conference ended on Friday and I was scheduled to take the flight to KC about three hours after returning from Chicago.

Until my plane decided to “divert due to weather” and park it’s big ass in Colorado Springs for almost four hours.

Now, you’d think that if this so called “weather” situation is so dire, planes wouldn’t be able to take off FROM Denver either, right? That’s kind of what I was banking on. Oh no, they left right on time. With my husband in the friendly skies.

I was depressed and bitter, but I eventually made it to KC and to the wedding and got to spend the day AFTER with my honey. I guess there’s always next year.

Life has been SO CRAZY I can’t even begin to describe it. To think five weeks ago I was living halfway around the world. Since then I’ve moved twice, gone out of state twice, bought a car, and bought a really expensive and also tiny house. I know - what’s the big deal, right? That’s only one life-changing moment per week. Chill out already!

Now that I think/feel/hope things are settling down a bit, I have decided it’s time to get SERIOUSLY SERIOUS about getting back to the gym. The two years in Germany (otherwise known as binge on beer and carbs years) have really rounded me out. So on Sunday I went to a sculpt yoga class, which is yoga with weights. How good of an idea is that, people? NOT A GOOD ONE. Then yesterday before flying to Chi-town, I thought I’d better hit the gym again and went to a “Fit” class. Three little letters. Three little letters that spell MAJOR PAIN. Apparently this was gymnastics day and we tumbled and cartwheeled and even did the rings. (Ok, I didn’t really do any of those things because I am physically incapable.) Then to follow that all up, we did full body squats coupled with sprints. And this morning? I was so sore I could not even sleep. What. The. FUCK. Trying to walk miles upon miles in heels today is just awesome.

Anyway, I’d better hobble my sore, sore ass back to the lectures now.

(Hi, I’m a heathen. If you never hear from me again check hell, because I could be struck down for saying something like that.)

So anyway, I’m hanging out minding my own business when Nana’s chauffeur returns her from service. The chauffeur does a quick meet and greet and then says “Oh, Erin, can you give me a hand? Nana needs to use the bathroom.”

I threw up in my mouth.

Then I punched Travis because this was so not fair.

I took her down to her room and helped her… you know. And I saw… yeah, that. And also? DID I MENTION TRAVIS OWES ME?

There are many very, very good reasons I am not a nurse, and 90-year old vaginas is one of them.

I really intended to write more than once a week, but somehow this week got away from me. We’re taking our first “vacation” this weekend to Albuquerque, and I say “vacation” in quotes because it’s really just a family trip to visit the in-laws. And I won’t go into how I could fly the same distance a month ago and be in an entirely different country with an entirely different language and an entirely different line of beers, but you’ve all heard me whine about that enough.

So, we travel this weekend, we close (hopefully) on a place next week, we move next weekend, and then somewhere in the coming days after that my life stops being tumultuous and starts being normal again. Because frankly, the past two months have been quite enough upheaval already, thankyouverymuch, and I’m ready to unpack the suitcase and stuff it somewhere for at least a month or two.