Return of the Tiffness

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm back.

I'm alive.

I didn't vomit up my liver while I was in Key West.

I did, however, have the most amazingly-fantastical-majestically-drunken-girl-on-a-beautiful-island-with-her-drunken-roommate-and-drunken-sister-vacation-of-all-time.

And, people? I have been on a lot of amazingly-fantastical-majestically-drunken-girl styled vacations, so that's really saying a lot.

Unfortunately, that's all I have to say about it for now.
See, the thing about an amazingly-fantastical-majestically-drunken-girl type of vacation is that, when you get home, it's very difficult to explain what was so amazing, fantastic, and majestical about the vacation at all. You start telling stories that you thought were really funny, and people stare at you blankly.

You find that there are no words to desribe the way that leaving Key West is so painful that you literally feel like someone is punching you in the stomach because you're not there anymore.


Although, I suppose there is at least a small chance that it's actually just my liver acting up in there.

SO I guess I'll wait a couple of days, see how I feel, and figure out a way to tell you about how amazingly fantastic my vacation was.
Also, I need to figure out how to put pictures in this damn thing, so you can see all my lovely drunkness and hung-overness and recoveryness and more drunkness and some ocean and palm trees and also the harvest of freckles that have taken over my face.