I. Am. Tired.
I swear I have Mariah Carey's Chronic Fatigue or something. And the weird thing is, I have been taking long weekends trying to chill. I relax, have a great time. But when I get home to my daily routine, I find myself drained. I think I need some vacations, but all I can see is the fact that the economy is not good, and I cannot afford vacations at this moment. But I can dream, can I?
If I could leave right now, leave on a jet plane... Maybe I would:
• Go to a Spa at Nevada and get myself a nice sicilian who would give me 24 hour massages. He would need to be naked, of course.
• Go to Manhattan and live there for two weeks at a small apartment down in SoHo. Drink some Oranginas, walk, do absolutely nothing. I would have to go with a sicilian guy, and of course, he would have to be naked. No worries, if there is the Naked Cowboy at Times Square, then dammit there would be a naked guy with me at SoHo. Hm. I would need to go in August then. No shrinkage. (Seinfeld Ruled)
• Get on a week's trip on a boat. Have loads of $8 Piña Coladas, get a nice suntan (mine is almost dissapearing)... The captain would have to be naked. Think of Tommy Lee. Interesting.
• Go to Provence, France. Ever since I read Peter Mayle's book (part one, of course), which is loosely based on the fact that he worked on advertising and suddenly decided to quit the biz and just relax there, I always wanted to check it out. I would need a butler and a cook. A french guy. Naked. Only on Thursdays.
Wait. Do I need vacations or just a naked guy? I'll just pop some vitamins and keep going.
But the Pharmacy guy would have to give them to me. Naked.