Antigua

I have officially decided that instead of being alone in cold, lonely, stupid Buffalo, that I would much rather be on a white sandy beach in Antigua. I can imagine it now, drinking a frosty margarita made with premium tequila (I'm thinking Petron or Des Guapo) with Katie right next to me. We would have little umbrellas and pieces of fruit in the drinks and sip them luciously as we watched the sunset over the Ocean, illuminating what is now an uncountable multitude of shades of crystal blue water. The last glimmers of the sun bouncing off the water and flickering off Katie's diamond as we walked along the edge of the beach smoking a cuban cigar, with or without the actual tobacco inside.

We could relax to poolside while the steel drum band played some Gloria Estefan. More margaritas and I'm thinking pig roast on the beach, Hawaii style but in the Carribean of course.

I could go on all night, but I think I will make myself jealous of myself. Since I would imagine this to be a recurring fantasy until my papers are actually turned in, I will probably begin again at the pig.

Antigua, it will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

Peace,

MB-K