Nothing to See Here…

Hi!  Remember me?

I started writing the post below a few weeks ago and then something shiny distracted me and, having the attention span of a cocker-spaniel, I just never came back to it.  But it’s so important, huge, earth-shattering, I just felt like I had to finish it and hit post. 

No, wait.  That’s not right.  It’s not important, huge, or earth-shattering.  But maybe - just maybe - I’m a little desperate for content, huh?  I’m the only blogger whose readership steadily goes down.  At one time, I had a google ranking of 5 and my blog was “worth” over 50K (not that anyone would pay me that for it, ’cause I totally would have sold it) but now I don’t do any vanity surfing because it’s too depressing.  If I would go to see how much my blog was worth, they’d make me pay them money.  And my google ranking is now “who are you? go away.” which isn’t a very good ranking, all things considered.

I like my blog.  I love my blog.  I love those of you who still visit me.  You’re like eternal optimists or something.  You think “Yeah, she was funny that one time, for a minute or two, remember?  Maybe if I keep going back someday she’ll make me laugh again.  I cherish you, you are the kind of people who help keep us believing that someday the Democrats will win the presidency again and the corporate raise pool will go above 3.4%.  Chin up, people.  Chin up.  Someday, I’ll make you laugh again.  If you just believe, if you all clap hard enough…. oh, wait.  That’s Tinkerbell’s thing, right?

If someone invented a pill where I needed no sleep, I’d totally take it and I’d spend the hours between midnight and 4AM posting to my blog and reading all yours.  Do you miss me on your blog?  I still poke around and read (I have to do something during those boring conference calls, right?) but I don’t have time to write witty commentary that is meant to draw people here to my blog, into my trap, to become part of my own maniacal plan of becoming the next Dooce!  That was a nice dream while I had it, though, huh?  I’m guessing about 98% of the blogosphere is looking to be the next Dooce success story.  I loves me some Dooce.  I wonder if Heather misses me.  Think of all the money she’s saving not needing those security guards to protect her from my stalker-like followship of her blog, right?  (Is followship a word?  If not, I got DIBS on claiming the credit for it.)

Anyway, onward and upward…. here is the not-so-earth-shattering post I wrote a few weeks ago. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  (do you like this little divider?  I made it myself!)

I’m back.

Actually, my BODY is back - it got home on Sunday.  We’re not sure where my brain is.  I’ve filed a claim with American Airlines but they claim they didn’t lose the damn brain and that I’m just shit out of luck. 

Oh, well.  I use it so rarely anyway, I probably won’t miss it.

Singapore was great.  It’s awfully considerate of them to be able to speak my language, don’t you think?  Everyone was so very nice, customer service was superb.  It was very clean - very clean.  Almost like the entire island went through a no-touch car wash just moments before I arrived or something.

And shopping - pshhhh…  I’ve never seen so many shops.  The deals weren’t particularly wonderful (like I imagine they are in Beijing or Bangkok) but the shopping was plentiful.  We did the touristy bits - Chinatown, Little India, Arab Road.  We ate lots of different kinds of food.  At the Indian restaurt we visited in Little India, I told the proprieter that we didn’t know much about Indian food and we’d give him $50 Singapore (about $35 US) if he would just bring us lots and lots of different things to try - small portions of many dishes.  It was great.

But the best part?  The very very best part?  We went to a place called Sentosa Island.  You have to take a cable car from the main land across the water to this island.  Oh, it’s a touristy kind of place but we didn’t care.  We rode the little shuttle until it stopped at a place called Cafe del Mar and we saw PARADISE!  By we I mean my sister and I (did I mention she was with me?)  The cafe was pretty cool inside - a big bar in the center, a section for regular ol’ tables and chairs, but along each wall there were these little bays and each one had, like, a king size bed, some papasan types of chairs, tables, etc.  So families would come in from the beach and just plop down to rest and relax in these bays and order lunch and watch TV or whatever.  Awesome!

There was also a pool-side cafe (which is where my sis and I ate lunch) and the pool had a swim-up bar (yes, we ordered our first cocktail at 10:15 AM).  The cafe and pool had a fairly short stretch of beach and then there was the glorious green, green ocean (why is it sometimes blue and sometimes green?  is that because of Exxon or something?)

My favorite thing were the beach chairs.  Well, not chairs so much as big FUTONS.  They were plenty big for two people with these thick canvas-covered mattresses and canvas-covered pillows.  And of course the big huge umbrella that adjusts this way or that way so you can keep the direct sun off.  Some of these big futon like beds had four posters and a thatched roof on the top (think Gilligan’s Island - I kid you not!) with gauzy curtains hanging down blowing in the breeze. 

We just spread our towels out on these mattresses and soaked in the sun and felt the breeze.  There was the joyous sound of children swimming and playing but it wasn’t my job to make sure none of them drowned, so I relaxed with my eyes closed.  Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to close my eyes at a pool or beach???  Well, me neither but it’s been a loooong time.

The beach area was teeming with cabana boys!  They would bring me pina coladas and use a little whisk broom to get the sand of my thatched-roof futon paradise sun bed.  I tried to bring one home with me but something about customs and indentured servitute being illegal and blah blah blah.  Whatever.

It would have been nice to have a cabana boy following behind me with a pina colada and a whisk broom, huh?

Perhaps Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman will always have Paris, but Jenn and I… we’ll always have Sentosa Island.  Ahhhhhhh………….

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