Only when I have been brainwashed by a thirty seven hour bus ride will I partake in sing-a-longs

It is 8:46 pm just now, which is approximately nine hours and forty six minutes later than we have gotten home from Juarez in previous years. Our across-the-nation driving adventure was bound for doom from the moment we woke up an hour earlier than need be yesterday morning, followed by many things that eventually led to a moment of weakness in which I let someone draw large polka dots on my face.

Some factors:

• A bus driver who chose to relieve himself (numero dos, people) ten minutes after a rest stop in the bathroom that he lectured was only for emergencies. Plus, he wouldn't own up to it and claimed that he was only making phone calls
• The other bus driver who accused us of being racist
• Intense heat->overheating->(4) twenty minute stops sans AC and windows
• Eating lunch and then passing place of lunch one hour later
• Late night storm->fogged windows->long periods of no AC or windows->missed turn->20 minute detour
• Insanity that set in at approximately 11 pm which led to emotional breakdowns in the forms of crying, yelling, laughing, eating, and vom
• Double dose of sleeping pills->sleeping in a sitting position->double vision, kankles

It was an otherwise successful trip. Kids are still cute and in dire need, one in particular named Alan (pronunciation: Ah-Lon) who I met four years ago is now eight and doing well. I came home with new punk-rock bangs, the artistic scissor workings of Sri, stylist at large who now has me thinking about a pixie haircut.
Of course before I make any brash decisions about my appearance I vow to:

1. Shower.
2. Sleep.
3. Google research.