Oh Jonathan where art thou

Vacation. What's the point if the person you need a vacation from accompanies you on the trip? A turd is a turd whether it is snowing and gray or sunny and warm.

Archie Bunker stopped shouting at me a few times, mostly so he could yell at some unfortunate Mexican person. He is of the ilk who believes that if he speaks loudly, repeats himself louder and slower with subsequent iterations, and eventually elicits nods from the recipient of his verbal onslaught, that communication has been achieved. At least he is loud and scary enough that some of the street hustlers just looked the other way when we passed.

Last year we vacationed in the same spot with the kids. No kids this time. Last time we had a sorry looking water taxi driver called Jonathon. Jonathon was cheerful, filthy, drunk and almost completely toothless. He smelled like a goat and continually drank an amber colored liquid from a plastic coke bottle; he referred to his beverage as "Mexican Prozac." It was love at first sight for Mr. Bunker, a new best friend.... Archie Bunker shouted and gestured. Jonathon nodded and drank. He took our money, smiling toothlessly, and most assuredly did not understanding a single word Archie Bunker said. Archie Bunker was also getting drunk, happy to have found a soul mate, and believing that his 3 words of Spanish along with his loud tones forged a deep and lasting bond.

Having made such a wonderful acquaintance, Archie Bunker was determined to find Jonathon upon our return this year, after all, Jonathon would probably be able to direct us to all the best restaurants and hook us up with some bargain deep sea fishing, right?

So Mr. Bunker traversed the bustling marina of Cabo San Lucas seeking Jonathon with all the tireless vigor of a heartsick lover. I suggested that he was probably dead or in jail, but Archie persevered. To anyone that looked vaguely local or even just a little bit dirty, Archie would be upon them. It went kind of like this:

Archie Bunker: "do you know Jonathon?"
Them: "no habla english, senor"
A.B.: "you know, Jonathon, the guy with the water taxi."
Them: "sorry meester"
A.B.: "YOU KNOW!! Jonathon! No teeth (points at his mouth) drinks a lot (makes a drinking gesture), you know him right?"
Them: "you want to get high? I got the best shit. Almost free."

And so on. It's sort of looking for a middle eastern cab driver named Abdul in Chicago. On the third day, after countless inquires, Jonathon was located. Archie Bunker was ecstatic, Jonathon was confused. They commenced to a joyful reunion. Archie Bunker rattled on in a language not understood by Jonathon, and Jonathon (who probably wouldn't recognize his sister) tried to figure out who the hell Archie was and how he could get his money.

sibling love

What the hell's the matter with those ninnies at fuckin NPR?? do they think that if they speak with any inflection that the possibility of increasing their respiratory rate will cause them to exhale more carbon dioxide and therefore speed the demise of the planet? Holy shit. From here on out it's going be me & Rush Limbaugh. Those simpering public radio idiots are going to cause an accident because all the Prius drivers are going to fall asleep at the wheel and veer into the paths of Hummers. The Hummer drivers will be alert, because they will be listening to Rush shout. Perhaps I should just change the station before I fall out of my chair.

So I neglected to say something nice about Nick last post... well I think comparing him to Homer Simpson was really kind of a compliment, all things considered. Homer is just fat and stupid, not necessarily mean and nasty.

Nick and his siblings continue the ever ugly fight over the estate of their mother, who has now been in the ground for over 3 years. Currently, they are wishing death upon each other, blaming one another for everything from skin rashes to world starvation and war. Does not having a finished basement with a media room equate to taking food out of someone's mouth? Apparently. I certainly don't want my kids to be the one's to suffer through life without the Gucci bags to which they are entitled.

Not so much sex & the city

Yes, I'm a little behind in popular culture. I have seen random episodes of Sex and the City, but I just watched the first episodes of season one and I now feel like I kind of get it.
Conclusions: 1. Single women are as unhappy as married women, but they are much better dressed.
2. Single women seek sex.
3. Single women spend staggering amounts on undergarments and removal of body hair.
4. Single women get to sleep alone sometimes. ALL BY THEMSELVES.

Though married life has it's shortcomings, particularly if one is married to someone who bears more than a passing resemblance to Homer Simpson, dating looks very difficult. I think if I were single, I would just get one of those dyke haircuts and wear a lot of flannel.