I can't even begin to express how frustrating and disappointing it is to have to vacation on the Gulf coast. Again. It's at times like these that I think this whole "public servant" thing was a bad idea. To think, I could have been a top-tier lawyer or and fancy pants lecturer at Harvard or something. Instead I decided to become a community organizer and follow that candy trail all the way to the White House where I can't even travel where I want to on my time off. It is so not fair that I'm always on the clock. Even my private life, my leisure, has become one extended PR display.

Don't get me wrong, the Gulf coast is a beautiful place (when it's not covered in thousands of gallons of oily sludge). I've had some good times there. That doesn't mean I want to go there for every single freaking vacation. No, but I have to because if I don't then Florida stands to lose millions in tourism dollars and everyone knows that state can't exactly fall back on its brains when its good looks go to seed. My whole life is like this. The cattle ranchers in Texas are having an off month? Well, Mr. President, better start shoveling more steak into your mouth. California is suffering from a deficit, so that means you better order a new movie into the White House theater. Since when did it become my job to be the spokesman for every shaky American industry?

If it weren't for this stupid, endless oil spill I'd be in Prague right now. That's right, Prague. That's where I wanted to go, not that anyone bothered to ask. I could be sitting in some quaint tavern, sipping an awesome local beer and listening to cheery folk music. I could be taking long strolls with Michelle through the storied quarters of beautiful Praha, taking in the historic architecture and reveling in the individualism inherent to Czech patriotism. Instead I'm washing sand out of my crack and trying not to make any funny faces because of the oil smell in case one of the damn cameras catches it and makes my life even more annoying.

The truth is, for all the perks of being President I'm tremendously bored. I'm bored of America. I travel around this country all the time and I admit that I've become somewhat immune to its charms. Familiarity, contempt, breeding. I realize now how good I had it as a kid. I got to see the world, live in exotic locales and be a man of the globe. Well, a boy of the globe, but same difference. Now I've got the United States strapped to my back. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, there it is. Like a giant pimple that won't go away. What are the chances I'll be able to fade into comfortable obscurity once I'm out of politics? It'd be so nice to just grab a condo in Kuala Lumpur and, I dunno, be an art dealer or something.

Nah. That's never gonna happen. I'll be kissing babies and pretending to frolic in American vacation spots for the rest of my life.