Wednesday, August 3, 2011

If hell was specific to each person...

mine would be packing a suitcase.... in a water park.
I'm not going to a water park (ever again) but I AM packing because my boif's fam was nice enough to invite me to Disney World. So you probably think, "Kayla, the least you could do is pack a bag without waiting till the last minute and complaining the whole time." And you're probably right. But why pack a bag when I could.... look at pictures of dogs wearing shoes!

Come on, does it get any better than dogs wearing shoes... or anything they shouldn't be wearing for that matter?

Why is packing SO terrible you ask? Well, if you're asking, then you're probably a boy. Because I think most girls hate the tedious task of going through every piece of clothing only to discover that it all sucks. All of it. Yesterday, before I was going on vacation, I had nice clothes that fit well and weren't terrible. Now... I'm realizing that the amount of pictures taken of me is going to increase exponentially in the next week and the clothes that were just fine are now dramatically insufficient. So I spend hours in my room trying on outfit combos getting stressed not only by the fact that I have no idea what to pack but also by the floor of my room as it is slowly taken over by the previously stated ugly clothes.

Oh and let's not even get into the fact that I'm going to the beach for two days. I just close my eyes and stuff the bathing suit in the bag hoping it rains so I don't have to go through the dreaded process of stepping out in less coverage than my underwear provides while effortlessly skinny girls frolic in the sand. Maybe since I'm going to the most shark infested beach in the country (fact)

I can use my irrational fear of sharks (that doesn't really exist) as a reason to stay in my cover up under an umbrella reading horror books (which I've recently gotten into to keep from forcing said boif to go to scary movies with me). Or... the skinny girls will be eaten. Either way I'm happy.
I started packing with a plan.... underwear, shorts, shirts, shoes... wait how many pairs of shoes? what kinds of shoes?! WILL I HAVE ROOM FOR ALL THE SHOES?! shirts? nice shirts?! or t-shirts?!?! SHIRTS??!?!?!? shirt... that's a funny word.

At this point the plan has broken down and I'm sitting on a pile of wrinkled laundry wearing a dress over my jorts with my hair knotted on top of my head and striped socks on my feet.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and the world will have reverted back to pre-fall-of-mankind and I won't have to worry about what to pack.

Oh to be sinless in the garden without jealousy over another's fig leaves.

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