I’m a person of interests, as my therapist would say. I’m rational. I enjoy having an assumption of how my day will begin and end.  I love knowing at 8am what I will be eating for dinner (duh..I’ll sacrifice a breakfast burrito for taco night ANY DAY.) I get excited picking out my outfit for the next day, selfishly knowing I will receive an additional 9 minutes of crucial sleep in the morning.  I’ve been fascinated by recent current events and have compiled a list for all 4 of you, my wonderful readers.  Grab a chair, maybe some vodka, and enjoy the things I do not do.

1. Charter a boat anywhere near East Africa.

Listen.  God speaks to me too.  I am friends with God.  God tells me all kinds of things every day- “Maybe you really don’t need another cup of coffee”, “Try and not flip off every driver you’ve deemed a horrible freeway merger”, “That cheese dip for your soft pretzel isn’t necessarily intended as a shooter.  Yes, I understand the design of the cheese cup fits perfectly to your lips, but have some restraint and maybe a little class.”

See? God and I get down. He’s a good guy really, just drastically misunderstood with all those tsunamis and earthquakes and such.  Here’s where I get confused.  I have yet to recall a time where God told me he really needed my help in Somalia.  God’s got a lot on his plate and I am positive Somalia isn’t even on this year’s menu.  Maybe our relationship isn’t one of pointing fingers on whom and how to fix things, but I think God and I are both very aware of two things: do NOT build a house near any kind of levee and do NOT go to Somalia.  You will die. 

 I have compassion- I swear I do (hello, GOD AND I SPEAK), but I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would willingly go near a country known for maritime warfare.  Scratch that.  Maritime warfare is (slightly) dignified.  These are pirates.  PIRATES.  Have you recently researched the actual term “pirate”?  Well good god, do NOT google it yourself because there are far too many sites related to AWESOME pirate names and costumes.  But because I care, I found this for all of you:

pi·rate n.

1.

a. One who robs at sea or plunders the land from the sea without commission from a sovereign nation.

b. A ship used for this purpose.

2. One who preys on others; a plunderer.

HELLO WORLD- ONE WHO ROBS at SEA, One who PREYS on others, a PLUNDERER?!?!?  Next.

Now, if Johnny Depp were an actual pirate who trolled the seas, you bet your ass I would be on the first red-flagged “catch me pirates” dingy out.  Alas, only a Disney movie….like most of my dreams.

2.  Travel to and report from a protest in a country where women are treated worse than dogs

Sounds simple, right?  Well, apparently I am wrong.  Anyone who willingly goes to a country known for STONING PEOPLE TO DEATH AFTER THEY ARE RAPED should have some idea what they are getting in to.  Any blonde haired, blue eyed beauty reporting (hahahah…reporting) from a country of above mentioned civil unrest should have a slight notion that she will be tousled around a bit in my book.  Again, there is compassion. There is always compassion for…self inflicted victims. Kinda.  My bosses make me do all kinds of crazy shit, which I happily lazily agree to do solely because of that meager paycheck.  That paycheck makes my frivolous world go round.  Here’s the difference-

“Hey, you’re gorgeous and we need you to cover the protest in Egypt, so that the American viewers back home have something to look at as they watch those crazy Ay-rabs.” – bossman.

 “No” –me. 

That’s all. 

That is all it takes.

“NO”. 

Did she truly believe this was HER story and couldn’t say no to this wonderful opportunity? Did this woman honestly expect to get out of that country unscathed?  Did she really believe that waltzing in to Egypt with her new faboosh Hermes scarf draped around that pretty little head would deter MANimals from ripping her dignity (and possibly/likely loins) to shreds? 

3. Go to rural Mexico; hell- MEXICO in its entirety

 First things first- Can we all agree that Texas is just the “richer, whiter, slightly more economically and fiscally stable” north mexico?  Ok, good. Moving On. 

Mexico is good for three things: Food, cheap alcohol, and prescription drugs.  I’m almost positive I’ve been in a pharmacy that offered all three, and I’m confident that’s ok.  That was 10 years ago in the tiny resort town off the tip of the Baja Peninsula, Cabo; this is today, where cartels use acid to get rid of your body, which is after they’ve cut off your head while you’re still breathing….and then force feed it to your dismembered, but still slightly breathing friend.

 Do you know why your email is aflutter with “OFFER OF A LIFETIME!!!!!” discounts on flight, room, food, booze cruise, banana boat rides, donkey shows (it’s worse than it sounds- if that’s even possible), and all around fabricated merriment in Mexico? It’s not the economy.  It’s definitely not the exchange rate or the general cheery disposition of their sorely corrupted population.  It’s to help those 16 year old, machine gun touting mercenaries snatch up as many gringos as possible, in hopes of accruing enough of a ransom to benefit their new flourishing import/export business. Hell, even the federales and paid Mexican journalists disappear in to that same desert where they’re looking for you and your donkey interested friends. SOUNDS. AWESOME. Sign me up, and here’s my home address for fun.

Honorable mentions-

peel oranges, eat onions, filing for my boss, and reading articles on being “20-something”(I’m experiencing it.  I live it. Daily. I don’t need to constantly re-live my day to day existence in actual words on New York Times, because it’s SOOOO relevant to my life.)

….but those are far less interesting topics.