Summer Itinerary

Well, I only have one week left here in Sacramento. I did not really take much time to enjoy Sac Town however, since I worked all the damn time. You know the old saying, "what doesn't kill you, makes you much richer."

I have big plans for my post Sacramento time. I am planning to hang up my Travel Nurse shoes, move back to Mississippi and be like the normal folk; stationary. Maybe buy a house, coach a soccer team, and stare longingly at the road, wondering, "Is there a better time to be had in Boise?"

First I have more immediate plans. I am rolling over to the Bay Area to spend an evening with some fellow bloggers, Jester and Othurme. I really enjoy reading their blogs, so I hope they can live up to the expectations.

Then I am going to rocket down to San Diego and hang out with my old Travel Nurse roommates Corey and Cathy. We will spend many hours arguing about who's turn it is to pick the place to eat and then go get drunk to forget why we were arguing. Life is grand.

Finally a mellow saunter across the Southwest to Mississippi, where I will get to spend some quality time with my family, including new nephew Kade. But in a month, I will join Chad in the Philippines for a four week "do nothing, while doing everything" extravaganza. I hope to drink lots of cheap San Miguel Beer, eat a lot of Chicken Adobe, and run through the streets yelling, "Masarap ang bayag ko!" Which is Tagalog for, "My balls are delicious!"

Hopefully I can start an international incident and make the news.

What are you plans for the summer?

World Travel for All

Killer says, "Get off your ass and go see something."

I love to travel. It could also be said that I obsess about it. I am not happy unless the next trip is planned and locked in. I have been blessed with an equally obsessed travel companion, Chad. He is a professor of English and American Culture at a university in Taiwan. He has the summers off, and I can pretty much work when I want, so the stage is set for travel.

Chad, Me and Clib in Boquillas, Mexico, just across the border from Big Bend National Park, Texas

Me, Chad and my best friend Clib all started travelling in the early years of college. It started innocently enough with a four day trip to the Smokey Mountain National Park in Tennessee. It was so much fun, we immediately started taking camping trips to other National Parks around the country, every break from school. Each trip got longer and further until it culminated into a massive five week trip around the Western U.S., up through Canada and into Alaska. For that trip we also added two more travellers, Bigelow and the often mentioned, Disco.

Bigelow, Clib, Me, Disco and Chad at Crater Lake National Park, Oregon

Since then, Clib did the unthinkable; he grew up and got married. That left me and Chad to continue on the irresponsible lifestyle of endless travel and trying to drink beer on every continent. Although, even Clib's wedding was used as an excuse to travel.

Me, Mrs. Clib, Clib and Chad immediately after their wedding ceremony in Hawaii

People always seem amazed that we can afford to travel so much, but it doesn't really take as much as people think. I guess it depends on where your priorities are. Do you really need a large screen TV? Do you need a bigger house? Do you need two kidneys?

I began thinking about this because of an article I ran across on Yahoo. It is simply titled "Take a Year Off to Travel the World". It gives tips and pointers for anyone to stop their rat race and go see how the rest of the world does it. Trust me, the rat race is better from the spectator stand point.
Take a Year Off to Travel the World

I recommend you check out the article, then get out there. Maybe you can't take a year to sit on a beach in Thailand. A few months is awesome; I have done that. Maybe you can swing a few days to go check out Glacier National Park in Montana, Mt. Zion National Park in Utah, or Acadia National Park in Maine. I recommend all of those very much. There are many people who have lived their whole lives only a few hours from a National Park and never even visit.

I will warn you, it can become addictive.

On a side note:
My favorite national park is My Balls National Park. It is open year round and it is rarely crowded, unfortunately.
I'm sorry, the rest of the post was a little too serious.

Love Letter

One of the motivators for me starting a blog was the feedback I would receive from Chad about the bizarre and random rants I often sent to him as emails. I don't know why I would send these emails to Chad, but I would do so every few months, and pretty much only to Chad. He even told me he would print them out occasionally and show them to friends. That made me realize, maybe other people would read random observations about my balls. I wish he had kept a few, because sometimes it is hard to think of new things to say.

I wrote Chad an email at work, sent it, and then began to put together a post for the night. I was perturbed that I used my only ideas on his email. As a lazy mastermind, I saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, so I am posting Chad's email.

Yes, it is homo-erotic. I believe I have previously mentioned my strange group of friend's strange sense of humor. To us that is funny, and when it makes Clib's wife nervous, that is even funnier.

So, you never responded to my last email, but neither did Bamela, so I guess
that makes both of you suck my nuts equally.

No real point to this
email. I am just bored at work and decided to see how you are doing. I am STILL
working everyday, working out everyday, and nothing else. I have six weeks left
before utter freedom and sheer blissful nothingness.

I hope the
Taiwanese are treating you well. It is nice that you are taking such care to
educate them before the Chinese drop a nuke and drag their tiny island back into
the communist fold.

I am not sure when you arrive in the States, but
hopefully you get all that Brady family shit out of your system because once I
hit town, it is going to be 24/7 Killer loving for you. Disco and I are pumped
about the concert in Memphis. I am trying to pull off a couple of days there for
us (and since neither of us will be otherwise occupied, I don't see any reason
to not have such). One night will be spent watching the Simpsons Movie which
opens that weekend, and at least one night should be spent getting shitty
downtown with a group of hot honeys I used to work with at the hospital. Maybe
by some freak occurrence even Sherm will show up. You remember Sherm don't you? No, you
probably don't.

I can not wait to do nothing. I want to sit in small
village in a third world country, under the awning of a tiny bar, drinking San
Miguel, and watching the rain fall. Preferably this can be accomplished with you
there under the table licking my junk, but if not, at least you could be sitting
beside me, dreaming of licking my junk, but too shy to ask.

We will most
definitely have to plan several nights of drinking, card playing and farting at
Liz's. Clib will be in town by then, so it will be a madhouse. You can take
advantage of Liz, I can do one of her twenty cats, and Clib can draw pretty
pictures of the debauchery. I would suggest you get Liz really drunk to better
take advantage of her, but we both know nobody can out drink Liz.

Yours
in Heterosexual Man Love
Killer

If you think I am sexy, don't read this post.

Killer has no shame

A few years ago I was gallivanting around Thailand with my two frequent travel companions, Chad and Bam. They are a bad influence on me. Chad usually makes me drink too much and Bam convinces me to do things I would normally think ill of.

The following picture is an example of the things they talk me into, and from the grimace you can see it was not very pleasant.

I can not blame the haircut on anyone but myself.


Now, what kind of friends would not only pressure me into having any procedure that would cause such agony, but take pictures of me while it was in progress? There was no, "Sorry Killer, we did not know it would be so painful." It was just raucous laughter and flash bulbs going off.

The next picture is a more expansive shot that will shed more light on the situation. I warn everyone out there with a weak stomach and preconceived notions about body hair to stop here.


wanted to get his head shaved, which they will do in Thailand for about a buck. Yes, I am getting my back waxed. Right across from our guest house was a hair salon, and BamBam was buying, so I got my hair touched up as well. During the task the lady pulled my shirt away to whisk away loose hairs and noticed my back forest. Being a sly business person she offered to take care of that area as well, for only about ten dollars American. I, of course, declined. I had no desire to inflict unnecessary pain upon myself. After several minutes of name calling and questioning of my manhood by my friends, and after the unknown workers of hair salon had joined in, I relented. It's Thailand, maybe a back waxing comes with a "happy ending".

I got up and expected to be led up to a private area to undergo the delicate procedure. Instead, I was moved ten feet from the chair to a small table in front of the main store front window. As I removed my shirt, which I very rarely do in public, I noticed that the foot traffic outside was pretty heavy. I positioned my self belly down on the table as the first of the gawkers stopped to see what was about to happen.

Being a third world country and all, Thailand waxers do it the old fashioned way. They use real wax that is being cooked in an old fondue pot, apply it with a tongue depressor and then unceremoniously rip it off, slowly and repeatedly. Disturbingly, the waxer would take the old, hair clogged wax and put it back into the fondue pot for re-use. After a few moments a young girl came in for a bikini wax and they put a partition between us. Her waxer ran out of wax after a few minutes and I saw her come and get some wax from our pot. I could not help worrying that if something happens to that girl, they will find my DNA on her hoo-ha.

During this event Chad and Bam both had their cameras out and were snapping photos, along with a few random tourists outside the store window. That was not nearly as disturbing as the wax ladies repeated offers to come back to America with me and be my wife. Her exact repeated quote was, "You marry me, I come to America and wax your back everyday." She was cute, but the last think I want is a daily back waxing.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, I got up, put my shirt back on, and was upset that the crowd outside the window dispersed without any applause or anything. I was exhausted from the torture, and a little disappointed that there was no happy ending. I was a little disgusted for the next few days because my shirt kept sticking to my back. I missed my protective layer of fur.

Another strange occurrence from getting one's back waxed is the sudden appearance of an ass hairline. I guess they have to stop waxing at some point, so it leaves an abrupt re-start of hair. Don't worry, I included a picture of that as well.