Negative nancy beings her journey

Alright people, it’s official, I... am.... going... crazy! We have less than 48 hours left to go and I can’t seem to find any way to relax. I’m about to be in a tropical paradise the likes of which I have never encountered. Should I have a care in the world besides packing? Is this angst, frustration or wrath justified in any way?
Poor baby, what a tough Sunday I’ve had. Wake up to some much needed schnuggle time with the lady, followed by this summers greatest sci-fi masterpiece ‘District 9'. “There are a lot of secrets in District 9"...yeah like why the hell Kelly agreed to go to this one with me. ‘Do you think I’d like it?’ she asked this morning at about 10am when I was finalizing plans to go see it. What am I going to tell her? No! You’ll hate it! Don’t come out to a movie with me! I think this is where my day started to turn sour. I’ll admit, when I’m dragged to one of her horrible romantic comedies starring, yet again, Jennifer Anniston, or some other washed out tramp, I do a fair amount of complaining, or at least snickering, throughout the film. I do NOT, however, laugh out loud or cringe at every joke and melodramatic moment. I should have learned years ago, after dragging her to Hellboy...one and! two. Ladies, especially mine, don’t do science fiction. Normally I can hang with that though. Today? Uh-uh, no way, not working for me.
We go to the store to pick up extra supplies for the trip. Kelly is convinced she can’t use Thai shampoo and must bring her own overpriced salon crap. Welcome to argument two. We go to home depot to buy soaker hose to try and save our yard. Welcome to argument three. Get the car washed. Argue some more. I can always tell when I’m in a horrible mood when it feels like everyone else is. I’m getting the distinct impression that every human on the planet wants to annoy me today. Cross walkers downtown...why the f’ do they take so damn long to get across the street! You don’t own the road! Move that fat ass before I run it over. The grocery clerk, the lady on the phone with my bank, my own mother, everyone, I mean everyone, is just as bitchy and nasty as possible....Then you start to breath a little, relax, and realize... wait a minute.. what if I’m the prick today? Don’t think I’ll be needing that last lifeline to figure out this conundrum.
It’s such an interesting mixture of emotions going through your head before a trip like this. I’m torn between excitement, trepidation, a fair amount of nausea, disbelief. My emotional state is actually very similar to the grief process.
Step 1: Shock. This tantalizing little monster probably hit me some time in mid July. I can’t lie (never to my precious Blog) this whole trip was mostly a pipe dream until about a month ago. “Oh yeah baby, sure, let’ go to Thailand...snicker snicker laugh laugh, I’ll start saving tomorrow, oh yeah, mid-September...sure, I’ll be ready by then.” Enter stage left: August 4th 2009. Two weeks before our trip. I had one thought on my mind...HOLY F**KING A*S SH*T ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!
Step 2: Denial. Kelly Andreson. Trip Denial Insurance. That is all.
Step 3: Bargaining. I’m such a good bullsh**ter I can B.S. myself, and I don’t mean the four years of college you’re all hoping for. Nobody bargains like my conscience. “I’ll be good...if only I could magically come across a duffel bag stuffed with unmarked bills asking to be spent in a foreign country half way around the world.... No? Fine, God, you don’t exist then. Bargaining done. That’s what I’ve never understood about believing in any sort of creator, they never show up when you need ‘em.
Step 4: Guilt. (I love how ‘live’ this blog is going to be) So I had Kelly read my posting so far... ironically, right before my thoughts on everyone’s favorite subject...’guilt!’ “You don’t seem very excited for the trip, do you even want to go on this trip with me (sob sob cry cry) DAMN YOU BLOG!!! If my readers didn’t understand before...I’M GOING TO THAILAND!!!! Is it possible to not be excited?! I guess it’s all just a perfect segway for the next step.
Step 5: Anger. Anger doesn’t exactly fit. It’s more a bizarre mixture of frustration and fear. NO! I’m not mad at You specifically. I’m not mad at anyone. Are you kidding me? I’m going to paradise with a gorgeous lady... I just can’t seem to relax enough to appreciate that fact.
Step 6: Depression. Welcome home my friend, I’m sure you remember 16-year-old George. And 18-year-old, and 19, 20, 21... I think it’s time for a real trip. I don’t care if my mother some how realizes how the internet works over night.
Here I am world. This is Casa de Blog el Jorge. No lies. No Bullshit. All typos. Although I realize this may be a bit too real for some of our readers.
Step f*ck Off. I’ve been trying to write this so formalized, so stylized to my type of writing. Is it so hard to tell the brutal truth. No Mom, you shouldn’t read this... Everyone becomes too disappointed...’why are you so angry’ ‘why can;’t you be cheerful’...’why can’t you get excited for this trip?’
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Welcome to the final Step. Acceptance that you should write what’s going down. The emotions being felt. I don’t want to read this 20 years from now and say ‘oh yeah, I think I remember being pretty nervous. NO! I want to read... word for word... “I had ridiculous diarrhea boarding the plane, why the F*CK did Kelly give me a window seat? That’s the memory you always carry. I’m not going to remember that Snow Dogs 3 played on Japan Air on the way to Tokyo. I’m going to remember never being able to fully empty my bladder on an 18-hour death flight over the pacific to Tokyo.
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I’ve been scolded, true story over.