How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Ah, yes. What a day. As usual, I had the idea of coming to work and banging out this post as soon as possible. What I didn't seem to recognize is that 1) the local paper came out today, and 2) it was a reasonably nice out. And so, I was inundated with people desperate to see this week's Police Report. And when combined with the sweaty khaki-clad patriarchs dragging their demonic children in for ice cream, you've got a stone cold recipe for fun! But nah, that wasn't so bad; it's should be expected in my line of work. What was different were the hordes of teenage girls raiding the candy aisles. I tell ya, for one straight hour it was nothing but teenage girls in the store. For all you perverts out there, it wasn't as cool as it sounds. Unless you have some fetish for rampant giggling stupidity. I actually feel sorry for teenage guys, having no other dating options besides them. Sheesh.

(Note: Joel understands that teenage girls come in many different varieties, and he doesn't mean to paint them all with the same brush. Just the really annoying ones.)

But onto this post's reason for being: My summer vacation!

Yes, for five whole days, I was basking in the sun at our cabin outside of Kelowna. Nothing but the majestic Shuswaps occupying my field of vision. There's nothing more relaxing than sitting on a dock and reading a book as the sun sets. But getting to that point was an entirely different story. Driving through beautiful mountain scenery? That was cool. Being sandwiched between two semi-trucks wasn't. And having no radio reception along with a tape selection consisting of Dean Martin, The Statler Brothers, and Green Day didn't help stem my growing insanity. And what the hell is with those bastard minivans passing me at a full fifty klicks over the speed limit? Safety conscious, my ass.

But I arrived safe and sound in hot and sweaty Winfield. You assholes complaining about hot days in Alberta should go out west sometime. This was tempered by easy access to the lake, however. All you had to do was follow a narrow, winding path down a steep cliff. No wonder nobody in my family drinks at these things anymore. It really would've helped, because the people who went down by the water were more content to work on their bloody tans than to do something exciting. I, for my part, attempted to liven up the proceedings by tossing people into the water and flipping over every person foolhardy enough to pass by on their tubes or air mattresses, but it was akin to trying to chop down a tree with a stream of piss. Stupid family.

Back up at the cabin things were interesting, but not in a good way. There was a nice infestation of wasps going on. My uncle devoted himself to their destruction with several "ingenious" traps (consisting of pop bottles with holes in the side) but he eventually gave up and told everybody to ignore them. Of course, one day later he was stung on his tongue while going to take a sip of wine. Sweet irony; is there no better mistress? I didn't escape unscathed, either; while I was walking up for supper one bastard of a wasp kamikazed the back of my head. Which as you can guess was followed by a stream of loud expletives, all for the benefit of the four year olds a scant ten feet away. Such a positive influence, I am. I fully expect my young pupils to be screaming "FUCK SHIT FUCK COCKSUCKER!" any moment now.

It might be disappointing to know that there were no gigantic startling secrets being revealed this year; much like any other year. No, when your family's Dutch there's not that many things that are unknown. In the absence of drama there were a lot of interesting stories instead. Most of them belonging to my Uncle Dirk, as usual. Such as when the family first moved over from Holland one of his classmates told him the proper way to greet people in Canada was to say a gracious "Fuck You!" while giving them the finger. I think he went for three minutes at most before he received the strap. An even better story is his last stint as a truck driver. He came upon a turn he thought he wouldn't be able to make, so he leapt out of the vehicle and watched as it drove off the side of the road. The sad thing is that stuff like this is rather commonplace in our family history; everybody has a tendency of acting like screwball comedic action stars.

But these things must come to an end sometime, and for me earlier than most everyone else. Even though I tacked another day of rest and relaxation on to the four I originally planned on, any more time off and I'd be flat broke. So, I hit the road early in the morning, and didn't end up in Rocky until 6:30 that evening. An hour and a half late for work. So, on top of my road weariness I had to deal with customers. Whooooooo.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this brief account of my wee vacation. Frankly, I don't expect anybody to get this far. But if you did, you deserve a pat on a back, especially one from the opposite sex. So go get one.