Last summer, me, myself, and I (and my sister) went to France for vacation. My parents went to Canada for what you may call a second honey moon, because they’re still 18 at heart, well that’s what I think, and what I think is pretty important to them (hopefully), so they are 18 at heart. They are little crazy love doodles who decided to go to Canada and chill with people who speak an intoxicated kind of French, which takes some time to get used to, but maybe if you get drunk it’ll be easier to communicate. In any case I went to France and my parents went to Canada.

I stayed with my family, which means my uncle(s), my aunt, my cousins, and my sister, and I had a delightful time. I stayed in Paris for a short while, but enough time to work my moves on some of the Parisian chickadees, which was quite hard, because I had to learn the new French slang, which I didn’t really learn, so basically the whole “working the moves” thing, was really just working the moves, waving hi, waving goodbye, smiling a seductive smile, because if I were to say something embarrassing in French, I could just give up on the delightful honeys.

One day I went to the park with my cousins, because it was a very nice day. I sprinted to the slide, because slides are very fun, and I was sure all the little kids would try to get there before me, so I was just being extra cautious so I could get there first. As I was going down, I saw a very nice looking 4 year old Asian girl with a pretty little pink dress on with little ribbons, and she had a perky smile. I thought she looked quite charming, so I decided to say hi. She answered by “YOU’RE NOT MY FRIEND”. In other words, that little innocent trip to the park hurt my self esteem.

I ate psychedelicious food over there, which means food so good, it’s kind of like an acid trip. It was pretty basic stuff, but I just really like my aunt’s cooking. My uncle in Paris only knows how to cook yogurt with cereal and raspberry jelly, and he told me what the secret ingredients were, and to my non-surprise they were yogurt, cereal, and raspberry jelly, but at least I got to add a recipe to my imaginary recipe book.

After that, I went with my other uncle to Bretagne, which was fun, but got kind of boring after a while, but it’s a crazy thing to say that it got boring, because my uncle is a guy who stabbed another guy in the cheek with the fork, so I wouldn’t define that as “boring”, but more like “wowie he’s a lunatic”.

Over there, I got to see some old movies which I liked a lot, including The Graduate. Because of that, Mrs. Robinson has been one of the songs for the soundtrack of my summer, along with Michelle by the Beatles, and many other songs. Also, that movie caused the fact I find older ladies more interesting now.

This uncle also made delicious food, but every time he would drop a fork, or a napkin, I would hear a distant “S***”, or “DAMN ITTTTTTTTTTT”, which was very amusing because I would try to guess what he dropped, but I always guessed something more important then a napkin, or a fork, so I never really won at that game.

My next trip in France was in Normandie, where I met up with my uncle and aunt and cousins that were with me in Paris. I had a lot of fun, and once again, I ate delicious food, so it was a very culinary journey, where I ate many kickshaws (I’m very glad to use this word because I just learnt it, and I think it sounds really cool, like a noise a ninja would make).

One of my main activities there, was working out, because everyone knows that I need to work out to keep all my muscles ripped. To tell you the truth, I worked on my abs, and almost fainted.

I would walk on the beach, get ice cream and waffles, not read any books and wait until right before school starts, but what I really liked doing the most, was going outside in the sun, and attempt to tan. Tanning is a very important thing in my life, even though there’s no trace of it on my body. I get red, and that’s basically it. I suffer. I get white. I go in the sun. I get sunburn. There’s a pattern, so I thought the smartest thing to do was to put a load of sunscreen on, and I never thought it would be possible, but the sunscreen makes my skin look whiter.

One day, a day where I’m pretty sure I looked my sexiest, no shirt and glasses, and a little headband in my hair, I was tanning outside reading a book. Well to tell you the truth, I was reading Goosebumps because that’s my vacation book, they only book I ever read during vacation. I know it’s for kids, BUT I like it.

So there I was, looking smoking hot, in beautiful weather. Boy, what would have the French chickadees said if they saw me. I was about to go in the ghetto pool my uncle made, out of wood. Ghetto pools are always the funnest, and they usually wear baggy clothes and listen to hip hop.

Suddenly, I felt like a cramp in my stomach, or as if something was pushing my tummy tum tum from the inside. At first I thought it might be like what happened in Aliens, some alien put eggs in my stomach, and that would mean the little baby would pop my stomach open, and I would become a parent to a hideous monster, and I don’t think I’m in my “parent to a hideous monster” stage just yet, so that hypothesis was believed to be fake almost instantly.

After that, I thought maybe my parents lost a bet to a Mexican drug dealer and they had to make me believe that I was a guy, but I was actually a girl, so maybe I was just getting cramps right before my period, but I thought that might be wrong almost instantly too.

I went to lay down on the couch because my stomach was hurting more and more. My cousins would come, look at me, and say “Awww”. That was not helping at all.

After a while, it really started to hurt a lot, so since I’m a little wimp, I made my “Lets go to the hospital noise”, which goes a little bit like “Let’s go to the hospital”.

I was driven in a mini-van, really quickly, and for a second, I realized what it must feel like to be in labor, and after I thanked god I wasn’t a girl. Well I didn’t really thank god, I was just really happy I wasn’t a girl.

The first place I went to was at a fat doctor’s office. He was sitting at his desk, and as first as I saw him I hated him, because fat doctors obviously don’t do their job very well. He can’t take care of himself if he can’t even take care of his body mass, you know?

This idiotic fool AKA doctor would not stop jabbering about the fact my uncle should have called first, instead of coming directly, because he said he might not have been here, instead of checking what was wrong with me. At this point I hated him even more. Finally, when he decided to check me, he didn’t even wash his hands, so I made a promise to myself that I would never get taken care of by a fat doctor, or worse, one that looks like Shrek.

He told us to go to another hospital and charged us 50 bucks. I decided I would run into him discreetly, to piss him off, but I ended up just bouncing off his stomach, and almost falling back.

We went to the other hospital, and they were very nice, and I’m pretty sure my guy nurse was gay, and he was very enthusiastic and nice, so that made the whole experience funner. They told me I might have appendicitis, so it would be best to operate now. I thought it was really awesome, because scars are totally badass.

Some time later, I took a shower with this weird yellow soap, and got in this robe and I felt very breezy. The nurses put me on this rolling thing, and sent me to the operating room. I waved goodbye to my aunt and my uncle, and off I was in this secret laboratory (well it looked like it at least). I felt like I was in all those medical soap operas, without all the hot doctors/doctresses. They put a little mask thing on me, and it stung my throat, and right at that moment I really wanted orange juice. Then I just fell asleep thinking of fruits.

I woke up some time later, and my family was around me. I would fall asleep while they were talking to me, because I was still under the medication. I would only wake up in 3 second pauses, and I could only utter one word to my cousin, which was “pakachow”.

My uncle stayed with me for the night, because he’s a very nice guy, and hospitals ain’t coolio when you’re alone. Well, they’re not cool when you’re with someone else either, but they’re better.

When I first got in my room, I was still under the medication. In front of me was a pretty small sticker in the shape of a TV that said “This TV was given by the blablabla foundation”. The TV was placed over that, but way too over that for my eyes to see it, so for 3 hours I thought the little sticker was the TV and I didn’t understand why it didn’t turn on.

The first night, a little baby wouldn’t stop crying. I felt bad, but I’m sure he/she was crying on purpose to annoy me. It was about 4 in the morning, and I couldn’t fall back asleep. As I lay there, in my bed, next to my uncle, and my little TV sticker, I thought about many things. I thought about school, which is a bad thought to think when vacation isn’t over, I thought about what I was going to eat next, and hoped it would be good (I didn’t eat for 3 days after I thought that, and then I got a “delicious” apple yogurt), and then I realized I would never get appendicitis again. And I was really really sad.

I would never be able to get excused from school for a bad case of appendicitis. I would never be able to find an excuse to not go to my girlfriend’s sister’s wedding, in a long time. I would never get to skip a few days of my first job working in a little Puerto Rican paper company. And I felt like the whole beauty of appendicitis, just went by me.

Appendicitis, is a vacation disease, as in “Hooray, I got appendicitis, no school/work/girlfriend’s sister’s wedding!” I got appendicitis, and it was sunny out, and the birds were singing, and my cousins were eating ice cream, and I was eating horrible mashed potatoes, that were way too salty, and usually I love putting extra salt on food, but these mashed potatoes tasted like they had been dipped in the sea, for at least a couple of days.

I was so sad my dear appendix had to go this way. My appendix was very loyal, it had been with me from the start, and it was taken away. I nicknamed it Appy. And I didn’t even get to see it, and I really wanted to, but then I googled it and looked at some random person’s appendix, but I just didn’t feel that magic, like when a parent looks over at their child who just scored a touchdown, and can proudly say “that’s my son right there! That’s my son!” When I saw the google picture, I knew it wasn’t my dear Appy.

All my fellow organs must be missing Appy too, I’m sure. Appy was very sociable, and he made this really funny SpongeBob impression. Everyone would call him “the Appster”, and yes he did have a drinking problem, but he was still awesome. Appy will be dearly missed.

After I thought all those thoughts, I went back to sleep. Then I woke up again to pee in a container thing, which I think will be put in my “worst experiences of my life list”. I had to pee in it every 45 minutes, because I was constantly fed sugared water through a little tube that went into my arm. I hated peeing in it, because I had to call a nurse to bring it to me, then she left, then I had to call her again to throw my pee away, and I thought it was always embarrassing for all these people to see my pee, but my pee was happy to see more people and expand its horizons.

I started walking around 12 hours after the operation, but I looked like a grandpa, because I was always leaning to my right. Three days after, I had to go to the bathroom for the first time, but I had to go in really small stalls, and I had to carry this metal rolling thing with my sugared water attached to it, so I had to plan a whole technique to get into the stall, and out of it. My technique didn’t work out really well, because I ended up putting my foot in the toilet by accident.


After that I left, and had a pizza, and it felt so good. The hospital I was in was just dandy, but the food was terrible, and this little pizza meant so much to me. My family was happy I was back, and so was I, but a part of me was left at the hospital. But literally, a part of me was left at the hospital, and I never got to see it, what a shame, but it’s pretty cool to know that my body is in New York, and France.

A few days later, I went back to New York, where I met up with my parents who looked delighted to see me. Their little honeymoon went really well, and my dad had wonderful little adventures in Canada, so I thought it would be cool to have a show called “Cana-dad” that I could produce with my dad as the main actor, but it would probably get sanctioned after its second episode for lack of public, but I’d be watching with great delight the first 2 shows, along with the second member of the public, Mr. Johnson, the 76 year old man who’s stuck in a retirement clinic and doesn’t know how to work the remote to change the channel.

Now that I look back at it, I still regret having my appendicitis during summer. I could have gotten it at such a better time, but what’s done is done. My appendix chose to leave during summer, maybe to enjoy the nice weather, to go to the pool, to flirt with fellow appendicettes, because that Appy was always a lady’s man. He and my kidney got along very well. She must be heart-broken…IN ANY CASE, at least, now I can get a tattoo on my lower right abdomen that says “Ex-Appendix” and that would be pretty cool, so it’s all good in the neighborhood.





Dedicated to Appy