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Here’s my comment on the Miley Cyrus/Vanity Fair bullshit: I really would like people to stop trying to blame VF and/or Annie Liebowitz for their part in this. The only thing Annie should be blamed for is taking a shitty photograph. It’s ugly, and makes Miley look like something from the Lord of The Ring. Let’s all focus the blame right where it should be: to her greedy, coat-tail riding parents, who were ON SET, AND ARE WELL WITHIN THEIR PARENTAL RIGHTS TO SAY, “ANNIE, THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE FOR OUR 15 YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER.” But they didn’t. Instead they decided to take the “not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman” route, hoping that it would advance her profile a bit, and it backfired. Disney still owns Miley’s soul, so now they’re trying to say they were manipulated, and that’s bullshit. I hope Annie Liebowitz tells them to kiss her ass.

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Here’s some great news. And by “great” I of course mean “wtf this is going to ruin my whole vacation”.

My parents started going to the river about ten years ago. They go to the same place, and go four or five times a year. (The more the years and their vacation time escalates, the more they go. I suspect this is where they will live when they retire.) I’ve never gone. Because, well, I don’t like dirty water, I don’t want to get on boats and/or jet skis, and I don’t want to watch my parents fawn all over my fucking sister every five seconds like they do. I don’t want to see her get drunk and act like an asshole. My vacation days are precious to me, and I don’t want to burn them sitting in thousand-degree heat in Arizona being miserable.

That was always my excuse.

A few years ago, Kay and DMX started going, too. I still resisted, because I hate heat. It’s a million degrees by ten in the morning, and that’s just not my idea of fun.

Well, I don’t know what got into me, but I let Kay talk me into their June trip this year. Six blistering days, hoping to stay as drunk as possible and cursing the sun (think of all the awesome twitters from that trip!), and silently hating my sister and being resentful of my parents treatment of her. The only saving grace (besides ALL THE BOOZE) is that I’m staying in a rented AIR-CONDITIONED trailer with Kay, DMX, and RAM, and that it’s far enough away from my parents’ motor home that I can run away and hate them all privately.

Another selling point was that our “friends” Briton and The Bitch were going, too. This was going to be fun because a) none of us have any respect for Briton since he married The Bitch and became a giant pussy, b) we enjoy calling them by her last name because after two years of marriage, she only just revealed to us that she does not intend to ever take his name, and c) she is one of those sassy fat broads that doesn’t care about being out in an ill-fitting bathing suit in front of the whole world, and sometimes doesn’t realize that when she’s bent over in said ill-fitting suit, things are revealed that shouldn’t be. And we’re just petty enough that all of those things are entertaining.

I also thought that all those things about Briton and his wife, plus my mom’s drunkass friend Jane who ALWAYS drinks too much and makes a huge ass out of herself, as well as the possibility of some decent desert photos were good reasons.

But then… well, this morning I got this email from Kay:

I forgot to tell you that Angela called last night and now they want to come to the river… I cant tell them no…

My feelings about our friend Angela’s husband and her asshole of a kid are documented in this blog, so as you can imagine, spending my hard-earned vacation time with them is not something that sounds like very much fun to me. (At the barbecue on Saturday, while we were all in the backyard, Jack (the brat) thought it would be really funny to lock us all out of the house. When I told him that was unacceptable, he yelled in my face and then started crying, which of course, just makes me ride his ass more about every single thing he does wrong. He’s such a spoiled brat, that I almost enjoy making him cry, which I guess doesn’t make me a very nice person. But I don’t care.)

So I sent an email back to Kay telling her that I was not pleased with this latest development, and that spending my whole vacation watching Barney (the husband) eat everything he sees (including other people’s food), blow snot out of his nose on to the ground, never bathing or washing his hands, and hearing Jack cry for six straight days was not my idea of a good time. I told her that I would seriously re-think my going if I knew they were going.

She has sent me several messages to assure me that she doesn’t think they can afford to pay for the trailer right now, that the heat would be too much, etc. etc. etc. But I still think they’ll end up going, and I’m going to have to double my alcohol intake just to deal with hearing Barney call me “muffin” for all that fucking time. (I think I’ve explained muffin here. If not, you’re going to have to come up with something for yourself. Be creative!)

This should be so. much. fun.

If they do go, at least I’ll have a month’s worth of blog posts that will write themselves.

So if you find yourself with some free time June 24th - 29th, you should come, too. And save me.

PLEASE.