WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

THE WAVE POOL WAS TERRIBLE

When my mom and I went to Pensacola, we had planned to hit the water park one day. We didn't make it, but the idea was planted in my head. 

I suggested to Nicole that we take a day and drive to one some time, and she was also excited to do it. I threw a text message out there to some friends asking if they wanted to participate. 

To my shock, most said not only yes, but heck yes. So on Sunday, July 20, we packed up Leigh's mom's Queen Ranch -- Leigh's mom previously scored us a cheap room for Paul's bachelor birthday, making her my Mississippi sugar momma  -- and headed to the Gulfport water park. 

First we stopped at Waffle House. Duh. Joe drove himself and met us -- Paul, Kelly, Bert and Jacob were also aboard -- there, and I went the rest of the way with Joe to keep him company. 

We were near the front of the line to enter the water park, and there was no line the first time I went on a slide. That would not be the case the rest of the day. 

Rain, and heavy rain at that, was in the forecast, but I was convinced it wouldn't rain. Joe, and I'm sure some others, thought we were fools for going. Well, it drizzled for five minutes, and that was it. 

There are five slides. Here are two, one featuring several quick drops and the other with some nice turns if you get three people in the raft for leverage. 

That one is what I called the Willy Wonka ride because it was dark and there was no earthly way of knowing which direction we were going. 

A slide in the far corner that I didn't get my camera close enough to take a picture of was the best. It had six lanes so you could race. 

You got on your belly on a mat and took three drops before hitting a straightaway that it took me all day to figure out how to hydroplane farther on. 

The race was to the advantage of bigger people. I would get off to these great jumps, only to see Bert and, especially Joe, go flying by me near the end. 

Bert attracted a Punkstain No. 2 -- the first one was on a train to Chicago in 2006 -- while in line to race. 

Punkstain: do you like horror movies?

Bert: they're Ok. 

Punkstain: did u see the one with the ghost?

Bert. No. I didn't catch that one. 

Punkstain: me neither. 

I saw several kids with wrestling swimsuits. Uh. Umm. Moving on. 

We wasted an hour eating some badass chicken fingers, but we all still got our fill of the water park, even if Joe and I had to sneak in a few extra rides as everyone else was packed and ready to go. I went on 15 rides total. 

The Mississippi education system was called into question as I observed several 10-12 year olds examine the height requirement sign. The height requirement is 42 inches, and the scale shows measurements at one, two and three feet, before the final 42-inch mark. 

However, these kids thought the 42 represented a different height. They thought the height requirement was 4 feet, 2 inches. Sigh. 

At least they were only eight inches off. 

SLEEPOVER

For the past few years, I've been working until midnight or 1 a.m. on Friday night and then showing back up Saturday at 1 or 2 p.m. By the time I drive home, fall asleep, wake up, get ready for work and drive back to work while picking up lunch, there's no time for anything else. 

Every time I show up Saturday, I say "Damn, I was just here. I may as well have slept here." Other coworkers have joked about doing it as well. 

But last week I actually did it. I slept on the floor at work Friday and woke up already at work Saturday. I had lunch and watched some TV before working. 

It was great. I didn't waste 45 minutes driving back and forth to work, and I was ahead of schedule because I started work early. 

Nicole, however, was incredulous. She thought I was lying when I told her at 10 a.m. Saturday that I was at work and had slept there. 

You decide. Smart move by me? Or am I just plain crazy for doing that?

DUDE, WHERE'S YOUR CAR?

I'M NOW STARRING IN DRIVING MRS. TINA 

My mom has been feeling weaker and weaker, so she decided to sell her car, a 2001 Civic with 33,000 miles. That's not a misprint. 

That car was purchased while I was still in high school. I'm now 30, and it only has 33,000 miles. 

I put an ad in da paper for mom. She listed it at $6,500 and said she wouldn't take a penny less than $5,800 but was hoping for $6,000. I told her no way. 

The ad started its run in da paper with last Friday's edition. The car was sold before the end of the work day that day. 

That was quick. The first person that called came by, looked at it, test-drove it and offered $6,000. Sold. I was wrong. 

The new owner is a woman in her 30s. Mom wasn't thrilled about her residence, though. "My car lives on the fucking West Bank now."

And now I'm serving as mom's chauffeur when she runs her errands. It was a really empty feeling pulling up in her driveway and her car not being there. Like a piece of her had already died. 

Anyway, Tuesday was the car insurance place (they owe her three months back), the bank and the grocery. 

Wednesday was more eventful. Here's where I went: drive to mom's house; drop mom off at the nail salon; drive back home (I left my wallet there); to Best Buy to buy Weird Al's new CD (they were sold out!); back to the nail salon; to Wal-Mart so mom could buy an inhaler she wanted to buy but didn't the day before; to Chinese lunch (Nicole joined); back to mom's to watch the 24 finale (good but too sad, can the man get a happy ending?); back home; to City Park for softball; back home. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Mom is going through old text messages. "Remember that girl that thought I was fucking her boyfriend?"

Mom needed an inhaler because she quit smoking seven weeks ago, and her chest is reacting to the lack of poison. "But they took the inhaler everybody loved off the fucking market." We bought the next best reviewed one. 

On the way to the nail salon, mom was wishing for a different girl. "I hope I don't get the same girl. Last time she hurt me with the fucking nail polish."

Mom's thoughts on Ray Nagin: "He only got 10 fucking years. Sad."

And on Justin Beiber: "He gets in trouble. He's been working out, though. Got some fucking abs."

PASS. PASS. PASS. REPEAT. 

The World Cup is over. Sadly, after watching all these soccer matches, I came away liking the sport less. Just can't stand penalty kicks and only one moment mattering too often. I still love it, but it's just no basketball. 

INFESTATIONS

I had two infestations a couple of weeks ago: ants and caterpillars. 

The first year I was in my house, I had ants everywhere and was killing hundreds by the day until I bought this product that destroyed the source. 

So when they came back, I just poured the liquid on my floor. They ate it up and had disappeared by the time I woke up. 

The tree in the yard behind me was eaten by tree caterpillars, which then littered mine and my nextdoor neighbor's yard. 

He was funny as he bought a chemical, put it in a bottle and sprayed the shit out of the tree from atop a ladder in my backyard. Neighbor: "You know I've been spraying the crap out of 'em on my fence, but they just keep coming back."

The caterpillars form these sacks on the tree limbs. But while I was on vacation, a professional came out and dealt with the tree. When I came back, my backyard had gone from having a thousand caterpillars to zilch. 

In other news, I watched Independence Day on July 4 to save our city from hurricanes, met Nicole's parents at a family party (and then joined some of her cousins and aunts at Lucy's until 3 a.m.) and enjoyed a nice steak dinner two weeks ago with Nicole, Bert, Kelly, Joe and Jenna.

Just living the life, ya heard?

MOM'S LAST TRIP TO THE BEACH

I WORKED OUT IN THE GYM AT MIDNIGHT BY MYSELF. 

Ever since my mom got a death sentence at the end of March, I was determined to get her to the beach one last time. 

I cleared my schedule for most of the week last week, and we were all set. Until she looked at "this thing called the 10-day forecast. I didn't even know you could do that."

It forecast rain for our entire trip, so she said she didn't want to go. I canceled my off time to save it for later. Of course, two days later, the outlook for the trip was pretty much clear. 

I asked for my days off back and got last Sunday through Wednesday. With Lauren's wedding Saturday, I actually had five days off in a row. 

It was an early rising for me Monday morning for the drive to Pensacola, though mom complained about leaving too late for most of the drive. We left at 9:21. 

Mom sees the new fountains on Clearview. "What the fuck is that?"

With stops at Waffle House and the Florida welcome center, we made it there in about 4 1/2 hours. A couple times I drifted over to the edge of the next lane while I glanced at my phone or whatever. 

There was never any real danger, but mom basically grips the door handle for dear life the entire trip. She yelled every time I drifted. Eventually, I ask her to stop worrying and yelling. "Ok. I'll just let you hit a fucking car in the right lane."

Having never booked a room for the trip, our plan was to pick out a place when we got there. I know that sounds crazy to most folks, but that's the way it used to be done. And that's the way we did this. 

My mom, however, is quite the panicker. The first place was sold out as was the next place. "Oh my god. We're fucking screwed."

It just so happened that we were next to Margarativille, so I says what the heck, let's stay at the grandiose place for your last trip. They were sold out starting Wednesday, but we took a room for Monday and Tuesday.  

And boy was it nice. The service was par excellence. The room was plush. As mom pointed out, "there's a fucking light in the shower." It was a walk-in with a lot of space, and I thought, "man, I have got to get me one of these."

And you can order food while lounging at the pool, and they bring it right out to you. Now, that's living. 

We took a long stroll Monday night to the pier, and though mom was completely worn out and barely made it back, it was a beautiful walk and something I'll always remember. 

And some other shots of the beach and the back of the hotel. 

And now the front of the hotel. 

Tuesday was spent going back and forth from the beach to the hotel pool. It was a gorgeous day, and I used most of my time just staring out into the Gulf, listening to the waves brush ashore and just contemplating life. 

At the pool, I observed all these happy families. I noticed that kids love to say, "hey mom, dad watch this." After reminding them to watch a second time, the kids simply jump into the pool. I laughed at this silliness and then realized I used to do the exact same thing. 

For dinner Tuesday night we want to Flounder's. I mean, how could me not? When I told Kevin at dinner the week before that I was going to Pensacola for the first time, he said "you have to go to Flounder's." At the hotel pool, mom and I each overheard separate convos with one person telling the other, "oh, you have to go to Flounder's." OK, I get it. We went. 

We had the seafood nachos. What a monstrosity of cheese, peppers, crab meat and shrimp. 

It was vacation, so we got a piece of cake for dessert. It was more than a piece. It had fudge and chocolate chips mixed in as well. 

We got up early Wednesday to sneak a few more beach hours in before checkout. When I woke up, mom handed me the bill. "They slipped a bill under the door. Remind you to get the fuck out."

On the way home, we stopped in Biloxi to eat at the Half Shell, site of Paul's bachelor dinner. Mom got the seafood stuffed portabella. She wouldn't stop raving about it the whole time she was eating it and the whole way home. 

Well until we hit a downpour in New Orleans east, and she started freaking out again. And that was our trip, a memorable two-day getaway that I'll treasure forever. 

We took a selfie by the beach. I believe it was my first selfie. 

Oh and check out rule No. 7 at the hotel pool.