hey say some things come in 3's, like feline IQ points, or toes, or ingrown hairs, or perhaps lists such as these, which have three items on them.

That conventional wisdom aside, I present three items (and some vague wanderings which I refuse to count because they are giving me dirty looks) for your intellectual digestion:

Frankenstein's cracked voice: Whilst traipsing around Guatemala, in pretty dry and warm climes, I developed a bit of a pimple on my left cheek. It sort of remains to this day. Just a day or two ago, another one popped out on the opposite cheek - which probably doesn't warrant the italics, but I got them on sale, so what the heck. So I have these opposing little eruptions, and it dawned on me - if they were bolts, and on my neck, I would totally be a gangly and pubescent Frankenstein. So right now I'm mentally picking flowers with you all by some lake, and then throwing you in due to my twisted psyche and questionable parentage.

Sally's cracked ...? Sally, in a move designed to tear my heart from it's ribcage and perform a freakish version of Riverdance upon it, is going on the American version of the Australian walkabout - that's right, she's going on a trip for Spring Break. Where's this bare-it-all hussy waif-like, delicate flower of womanly perfection going to shake her moneymaker? Where indeed, but the epicenter of MTV-like hedonism and ritualistic beer swilling shenanigans: Reykjavik, Iceland.

Imagine the parties! The frat-boy cavortings! The streaking through the quad! Soon she'll be showing up in her Birthday Parka in the latest DVD of Girls Gone Icicle. Oh, the humidity.

The chicken bus story Public transportation in Guatemala is how most of the working class gets around, and there's a whole cottage industry devoted to refitting retired US school buses with all sorts of luggage racks, fender flares, chrome bits, fancy paint, and ladders. These vehicles are affectionately known as Chicken Buses. There's also no more "emergency exit" for a back door - this is now a main way to get on and off the bus. A few of us savvy western travelers needed to get from San Lucas to Antigua, so we jumped in the back door of a waiting bus. I jumped last, and was rebuffed due to the bus being filled with 8,000 people. Standees were not only permitted, but required. As I grabbed the inside handle of the open rear door to pull myself in the second time, the bus took off. We were on a major highway. I got drug a bit until I grabbed a ladder rung with my other hand and the money-taker on the bus pulled me up enough to get a foot on the bumper. The whole time the money-dude was screaming for the driver to stop. After gaining my footing, I unleashed my secret CIA ninja moves (now illegal) and slaughtered the entire city, along with all their pets and someone's goldfish.