Can’t sneak 19″ monitor into your luggage.
What to have for breakfast, when to go to bed, how often to check email ,and the other habits that hold us together are all thrown recklessly to the wind, hey nonny nonnny.
Traveling kit contains second-tier bathroom paraphernalia.
Staying indoors is suddenly considered abnormal.
Can’t claim antisocial tendencies are actually “just a good work ethic.”
The water tastes different, the pillows smell funny, and I think I just heard a snake.
People insist that you “relax.” What’s that about?
Sight of pasty white-boy torso overwhelms well-tanned forearms and calves.
On the third trip through rustic small town, the cute tourist shop names start to sound evil.
Can’t figure out how to dress worse than normal.
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