You know those unbelievably gay advertisements on Travel channel that talk about getting the travel bug?
While I don’t have nearly as many moments of homo erotic travel erotica in my being, I do often find myself aching for new scenery and a new environment.
Hence the, “get the fuck out of dodge bug” is born.
Have you ever has this bug hit you? Trust me, you’ll know it because it will bitchslap you in the side of your face faster than a pimp named slick back hits one of his women of the night.
The get the fuck out of dodge travel bug has its roots based in the fact that you have been in one single location for far too long of a period of time. You likely experience such side effects as, teeth grinding, vomit induced rages at the sight of the same night life locales, a general remittance of all things that go bump in the night, and possibly an onsite depression that can only be cured with a fist full of Prozac.
The only real way to cure this bug is to embrace the symptoms. Sure as a pot head is going to offer his left kidney for a dime bag, you must roll the proverbial dice and take charge to seeking out greener pastures.
From land, sea, or air, you must choose a location of meaning and embark on a crusade as soon as possible, or you may risk forever being stuck in the fetal position while chanting a mantra about TSA strip searches.
Don’t know where your suedo travel bug will take you? Stop by your local thrift store and pick up a globe along with some darts and proceed to offer a violent acupuncture to your fair world. Maybe pick the location with the best sounding name?
It really doesn’t matter, in fact, all of the details ultimately boil down to a giant piece of bull fecal matter, you just need to get the fuck out and stop worrying so much about the logistics or you will become overrun with feelings of regret and general sleepless nights watching travel channel with a lighter and a spoon filed with Ben and Jerrys.
So I bestow upon you the massive responsibility of leaving your mountains of paper work behind you and picking up a large piece of luggage and a strong resolve and heading to your nearest terminal of pain.
Don’t worry; you can thank me later with a gin and tonic.