I’m not one to often broadcast my vacation plans, but let’s be real here, my brog has been down so long, that there’s absolutely no concern that some mysterious anonymous seventh reader of mine that cyber-stalks me is going to get wind of me not being home, break into my house and steal all my wrestling belts. I’m literally hoarding a folder full of Word documents of the ever-growing backlog of brog posts that I have every intention of back filling when, or if, my brog ever comes back online.
Me salty? Nahhhhh
Anyway, it’s not often that I write off the cuff without a general subject, topic or impetus to vomit words. But I knew that I would probably want to write some diatribe before I got on a plane, fly across the Atlantic and try to find some rest, relaxation and exploration in parts of the world I never thought I’d actually go to.
Much to the doubts of mythical gf, I actually am excited about this trip, planned a year in advance. But my excitement oftentimes manifests itself in a variety of anxiety at the things I’m leaving behind, as well as a bewilderment of the things planned ahead of me. Otherwise, I like to think I’m a pretty grounded guy that doesn’t show like Nintendo 64 Kid levels of excitement, about anything.
