Hurricane Dean...

Can suck a bag of dicks.

First of all, let's be honest, I'm awake and it's barely 8:30am. PROBLEM.

I've been awake since 4:30 (after going to bed at 1:00am). PROBLEM.

I was rocked awake (not in the good way) because the ocean is spitting this giant city of a ship around like a ragdoll. weeeeeee...a rollercoaster that never stops! RIDE AGAIN! RIDE AGAIN! And it's weird because we're ALL tall enough .

I hate CNN (one of the three channels), because EVERYTHING is very dramatic, and a little dose of "hurricane DEAN watch" before bed coupled with the rocking makes for some very disturbring nightmares.

Looking out the window of the internet "cafe" (where there are no hot foreign men nor five dollar lattes), I see her. She is PISSED, yo. It's like she's saying, "Hey you! Yeah....YOU with the bucket of corona in the yellow plastic logo HELMET! You are what's wrong with the world! There are millions of people living with AIDS, starving, dying in wars and killing each other, and YOU are working on your tan and complaining that you only had the option to eat 17 times today! Well.....take that!"

Lots of vomit (but at least they have strategically placed a bunch of barf bags near the elevators)

Lots of knocking into walls as we try to walk down the hall (but at least most of the hallways are only 4 feet wide).

Lots of falling out of bed, while dreaming that the bed is soon going to be the cold wet sheets of the deep blue.

We're okay. We're headed to Tortola and St. Thomas. It could be worse, but I won't be at ease until Mama Ocean gets over her vengence. Okay I get it! i'm in TIME OUT Mama! And I promise to straighten up ("or no buffet for you!")

All I know is that I'm not going down without a fight (and by "fight," I mean a full helmet/bucket of Corona).