Really? No, Really?

You have got to be kidding me Hip. All I asked for was 5 days on a beach in Mexico. There was going to be plenty of tequila to help you get through it and alot of lying around and even swimming which you generally like. There was never any mention of para-sailing or horseback riding or even long walks on the beach. I would never have been so presumptous at this point. I even bought a tacky suitcase with rollers so you wouldn't have to do any hard labor lugging a mere 12 lbs up a flight of stairs. I admit to pushing you a little the week before we left but nothing out of the ordinary -- just a little spinning and some cross-country skiing. I thought you were gonna cooperate as we approached the 3-month mark. But no, you had other plans indeed. Not being able to walk down the beach was possibly understandable given that you generally don't like un-even surfaces. But making me get a taxi to go 1 mile into town to SHOP of all things is pretty outrageous and insulting. I don't even LIKE to shop you fuckwad. In any event, you may have seriously pissed me off but you didn't ruin my vacation thanks to about 4 daily rounds of margaritas before 5pm and alot of tacos, chili rellenos and cloudless blue skies.

But, I will grudgingly acknowledge that you did give me 2 weekends of moderate fun ski touring a little (albeit with the help of my close friends Flexor, Voltaren and Tramadol) at our cabin in Winter Park. Elliot and Phoebe thank you more than I do in fact because they got a few hours of fun in the snow instead of prior ski seasons stuck in the parking lot at Abasin.

Just wait Hip. I've got big plans for you. You're not even gonna know what's hit you and you're so gonna wish you had cooperated more when you get a big-ass hammer smashed into your ugly little socket and a nice metal straightjacket for the rest of yo' life BITCHES.