Weekend Getaway: Farting Breadsticks and Boobies!

Ok, so let me preface my blog by saying I had an amazing weekend with my friends in Panama City Beach, FL.  I had forgotten how much we laugh when we get together, forgotten how bad it hurts AFTER you've laughed that much, and forgotten that the ole bladder just ain't what it used to be after three children.  I remember now and still wouldn't change anything.  The weekend was perfect.

We drove down early on Saturday morning and listened to music, sang, talked and laughed.  We took sort of a back route and would have made it just fine in great time if we hadn't been talking and laughing so much we didn't pay attention and missed an exit.  And went 30 miles out of the way one way.  Yes, my dear readers, we wound up adding a whole hour to our trip because we were gabbing.  In between this time and the next thing to go wrong, I learn that my best friend's little girl thinks "boobies" is a curse word and will inadvertently yell it when something goes wrong.  Hilarious.  Google maps was wrong on the very last turn we were "supposed" to make, but instead we should've gone straight.  That added another 30 minutes or so.  UGH.  I've never had a good experience with any online map thingy.  They all stink.  So we're ready to get out of the car, start our vacation and enjoy some down time.  We were frustrated and I yell, BOOBIES!!! at a redlight.  My friend (who is a spin instructor at her local gym, I will henceforth refer to her as Spinster)and I died laughing and that's when I first remembered I was behind on my kegel exercises.  It wasn't the last time, either.

We finally arrive and meet up with a friend of mine that moved there (one of the reasons I chose to go to that particular beach, because she would be there, too.)  We shopped at the outlets in Destin, FL.  I had birthday money and some money hubby let me have to splurge.  In the first 3 hours I had powered through $120.00 and only had $40 left for the whole vacation.  Depressing, huh?  This is me at dinner looking sad and depressed at my spending habits:

This is the three of us at the Back Porch at dinner that night, an open air restaurant on the beach.  The picture was taken by a drunk woman whose "procession was porfessional photogracy".  I'm just impressed that we're all in the picture.

The next day we lounged in the pool, sunbathed, and took a walk on the beach.  While Spinster was sunbathing on the beach (not my thing with my fair skin), I look down from my balcony and see literal boobies.  A woman was topless next to the pool, boobies up.  Anyone watching probably thought I liked what I saw, but I simply couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I guess she was from Europe or something.  But then I see her top tied to the arm of her chair and I know I don't need new contacts.  GeeeYROSSS! I guess you could just say she was our mascot for the trip.

That night we went to see Nights in Rodanthe (don't waste your time, it sucks) and ate at Five Guys.  No snide comments about weight watchers, Jennifer.  I knew exactly what I was doing. ;oD  We walked around the new Pier Park for a little bit and then went back to the hotel.  On the ride back, Spinster decided to deem my friend from Florida officially one of us by farting in her new car.  Let's just say that nice new car smell I loved when I got in is no longer there...Welcome to the family, dear.  It only gets worse from here.

The next morning, unfortunately we had to leave, but Spinster and I stopped one last time down the road from our hotel to take some pictures of us on the beach.  Here is Spinster in all her glory...Here we both are; my pathetic attempt to refrain from asking the fisherman near by to take it for us.  I was afraid to chance what his "procession" was.

Then, when I talk to Hubby, he tells me Punky is sick with a stomach virus and throwing up.  It almost took an act of Congress to get me off that beach knowing I was going home to sick kids.  I obsessed the whole way home about it because I.hate.throw.up.  I'm phobic about it.  Luckily, Punky was feeling much better when I got home and was already in bed.  This morning, however, Chicken woke up with a fever.  This is what I found at lunch when I came to check my email and then returned to check on him...poor kid.

Oh, and farting breadsticks you ask?  Well, I'll just leave that one to your imagination.  What do you think it means?  Leave me a comment and we'll see whose closest.  Person's involved, you know who you are, can't give it up.