I Swear, They Must Pump Tranquilizers into the Air

For a few years in a row, my grandpa was unable to leave the nursing home, so my family would go to my grandparents' for Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving holiday festivities. Inevitably, the day followed the same routine.

Get up. Eat a light breakfast. Drive to parents' house. No one's ready at the time we are supposed to leave. Sit at the counter, surly, because I could have slept later. Remember we need pictures to color. Print coloring pages. Pack colored pencils.

Lauren sleeping in car

Leave 30-45 minutes behind schedule. Gah, really? I could have slept that much longer? Pass out in the car for most of the two-and-a-half hour drive. I cannot stay awake in a moving vehicle, people. Arrive hangry (hungry-angry). Get antsy to eat. Why are we saying hello and wishing everyone a happy day? I just want food! Also, the first indication of airborne tranquilizers hits me as I realize I'm about to collapse I'm so tired. No matter, it's nap time after we eat. Ignore weariness.

fun with food

Go to the dining room! Eat! The food is really good, and the only thing I didn't like about eating at the retirement center is no left-overs. Halfway through the meal, remember how dead-tired you are. Barely waddle back to Grandma's apartment due to fullness and exhaustion. Pass out anywhere--floor, couch, bed; I'm not picky.

Wake up two hours later. Go to activity room where they serve cookies and juice. Color. One of the residents would come up to us each holiday, compliment our drawings, and tell us her mother was an artist. We would offer her a coloring sheet, but she wouldn't join in.

Look at the sun, it's time to go! Convince Mom we need to leave (homework, work, etc). This takes anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. Try unsuccessfully to wake Grandpa. Say goodbyes. Leave. Pass out in car. Usually, a second bout of hanger would rear its head. Stop at a gas station for beef jerky and white cheddar popcorn. Wake up at parents'. Drive home. Go to bed.

As you can see, there was a lot of sleeping involved. The car nap is just my reaction to being a passenger in any moving vehicle, so ignore that. Every time, we swore the retirement home pumped some sort of sedative into the air. My sisters undeniably felt the tranquilizing effects, as well, and would doze off with me. 

If only I could have stayed awake long enough to find out if there was actually such a somnifacient...I mean, we wouldn't want any fights to break out amongst the elderly.

Merry Christmas...God!

publicdomainpictures.net

The Christmas of my 15th year, we spent the holiday at my grandparents' house. My uncle, aunt, and cousin were also in attendance, and I had to sleep on the living room couch. 

I was not excited about sleeping in the living room because I knew the children (13, 10, and 9) would be up at the butt-crack of dawn, so excited about gifts, and I would want to punch them in the face due to lack of sleep and aversion to chipper people in general but especially to children's laughter at that time of day. Background: at the time, I slept on average 10-11 hours a day.

Of course, when the time came I was grumpy and wanted to sleep more, just like I had warned everyone the night before. As everyone filed into the living room, each greeted me with a jovial "Merry Christmas!" I was going by the 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all' doctrine and kept my mouth shut.

"Say Merry Christmas, Monica," my mom ordered. Super-cheerily, I said "Merry Christmas!" Then I followed up with a smart-alecky, meant to be loud enough for everyone to hear under my breath, "God!" 

And to top it off, it's on film.

Interpreting Questions While Sleeping

After a semester in Seville, Spain my junior year of college, a friend and I traveled through Italy. I was responsible for choosing where we stayed in Venice, and I had to keep in mind that we were on a strict budget, between €15 and 20 per person per night. I had already "messed up" on our Rome accommodations, choosing a place that was €50 per night for a 2-bed room--€25 per person was exorbitant.

The places in town were more expensive, what with Venice being an island so having limited options. So I looked outside the city and found a campsite that had cabins. I checked with Laura, and she was leery but eventually agreed.

The train from Rome arrived in the morning in Venice. Then we had to go back out of the city by train to a bus stop, where we got on a bus that went to the campsite. It took 30-45 minutes to get there.

Once we arrived at the campsite, we checked in and were told we were staying in a tent. By then, we were getting hangry, so we didn't argue. The tents were set up on a concrete slab with two cots. 

Rialto in Venice

We stopped at the general store at the camp entrance to get some food. I got some sort of cookies, and Laura got crackers. We ate while bussing and training back to Venice. Then we jumped on the Vaporetto water bus to St. Mark's square. Since we had some cookies and crackers left over, we fed them to the pigeons. Their little claws felt so weird!

feeding pigeons at St. Mark's

After spending the day in town, we trekked back to the camp. There was a party going on at the lodge, with loud music. I passed out as soon as we got there, not caring about the music. During the night, I flipped over. Laura asked, "Are you awake?" "Nope, just turning over," I replied.

The next day, we hopped on a train to Milan. Laura asked if I remembered our conversation. I mean yea, I was just turning over. She. Was. PISSED. She couldn't fall asleep because of the music so laid awake for hours. She got excited when I flipped over that I might be awake, too, and would chat.

When I told her I was not awake, just turning over, she stewed because clearly, I was awake if I could tell her that I wasn't. She had almost forgiven me, thinking maybe I was talking in my sleep, since I do that, too. However, I had confirmed that I had been awake because I remembered the exchange.

In my defense, I was half asleep. My sides get tired when I sleep, so I usually wake up a few times just enough to flip over then fall right back asleep. In the haze of sleep I cannot be expected to interpret "Are you awake?" to mean "I can't fall asleep, and if you can't sleep, either, keep me company." Oops!

The Time We Lost Corinne at the Aquarium

"We Lost" because she had no idea she was lost in the first place. So I can't blame her and say "The Time Corinne Got Lost at the Aquarium" because she wasn't lost; she knew where she was the whole time. But I digress...

The summer after 8th grade, my family vacationed in California. We had fun in the sun, along with some carsickness while driving US 101/CA 1 from San Francisco to Monterey, where we met up with some family. 

We visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I remember they had a big jelly fish exhibit, a place to pet rays, a penguin exhibit, and a tide pool, among others.  

Toward the end of the visit, we were gathering up everyone to go to lunch. Everyone was accounted for, except my 7-year-old sister, Corinne. We went back to the last exhibit, but she was nowhere in sight. Since penguins were her favorite animal, we checked that area, but she wasn't there, either.

My parents decided to have her name announced over the loud speakers. "Corinne, please meet your family under the giant whales." There were two life-size whale sculptures hanging from the ceiling close to the exit. We waited for a few minutes, but she didn't show. They made the announcement again, but still no Corinne. 

We were starting to worry; I mean, she had probably been kidnapped. We had been warned two years previous on our Disney World trip that people will snatch up children, take them into the bathroom, change their hair color and clothes, and kidnap them. We sent out search parties to look for her throughout the aquarium.

I don't remember how many times her name was announced or how long we waited, but after what seemed like eternity, Corinne comes ambling up to us, like nothing's wrong! "Where have you been?!?" we shrieked. "Uuuhh," she looks at us like we're bonkers, "in the gift shop." For reference, the whales meeting place was immediately outside the gift shop, so clearly, no one had thought to look for her there. 

It ends up, she went into the gift shop, thinking that's the natural end to a day at the aquarium. To her credit, it was in our family--we love souvenirs, or at least browsing through knick knacks, trinkets, and other kitsch. So how no one considered she might be there, I'll never know. 

She actually heard announcements over the loud speakers. "I always listen to those things, but they are never about me, so I'm not going to listen to them any more," she reasoned, continuing to browse. Oh, the rational mind of a 7-year-old.

She was scolded, and the three of us girls were instructed to always listen to announcements because you never know when one will be about you.

Dominican Safari: A Most Random Assortment of Activities

On our second day in Punta Cana, Lauren and I went on a "safari." The all-terrain truck picked us up in front of the hotel early...well, for vacation that is.

There were already a bunch of people on board, and we went to another resort to pick up a group of eight, filling the truck. However, the last seats were split, six in the back and two in the front. The people exiled to the front persuaded people from the back to switch with them so they could all be one big happy family together. "Oh, good! We thought we lost you!" squealed one girl. *Eye roll* by Lauren and I. "It looks like we're going to be the rowdy ones, this time," announced a guy in that group. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The truck drove to the entrance of another resort and called six people, including Lauren and I, off the truck. The other four people only spoke French. Just as I was asking Lauren why we were being banished since we're not French, the guide asked us what language we spoke--English and Spanish. "Ok, that's fine. You stay here." Then the truck drove off. Yes, drove off, leaving us stranded by the side of the road. Uuhhh...great, we're going to die.

A full five minutes later, another truck showed up. Foof, not going to die! More importantly, we didn't have to spend the day with the obnoxious group. 

Lauren on the truck

Our truck had a driver, a tour guide, a videographer, and a bartender. The guide spoke French, Spanish, and English, so that's most likely why the French speakers were transferred. He repeated everything in all three languages, but I think I understood the Spanish better than the English. 

As soon as we got on the bus, the bartender yelled, "OPEN BAR!!!" Open bar meant beer, rum, Coke, Sprite, and water. I was leery of drinking on the bus, since I am apt to get car sick. But we were sitting in the front of the truck, and the whole back was open. So I went ahead and tried some "Dominican champagne" (rum and Sprite). Surprisingly, I did not feel car-sick the whole time.

The guide was trying to tell us things as we were driving, but the engine and wind were so loud, we could hear nothing else. The bartender was trying to talk to me, but I couldn't hear him, so I just did my bobble-head impression (smile and nod).

school

First stop was a school sponsored by the tour company. The guide said grades 1-3 attend in the morning, and 4-6 in the afternoon. Now, I have no idea how those children learned anything because if they have tour groups in and out all day, every day, there's no learning going on. For the sake of the children, I hope they sponsor more than one school and rotate tours throughout the week. 

San Dionisio

Then we went into Higüey to see a couple of churches. Normally, I'm not big on visiting churches. I can see one or two before they all start to look the same, but there were only two on the schedule, so I survived. San Dionisio was celebrating its 500th anniversary and is one of the oldest churches in the Americas. The tile work reminded me of the Alhambra in Granada, Spain...

Alhambra tiles

San Dionisio tiles

Today's history lesson: In 711, Muslim Moors invaded Spain, bringing with them the Islam religion and Arabic architecture. Because depictions of animals and humans is discouraged in Islamic art, geometric tile-work is prevalent throughout their architecture. So the tile-work was imported by the Moors into Spain, and the Spanish brought the tile-work to the Americas. "THIS is why you study a language!" Lauren stated, not only to speak the language, but also to learn history and culture. To conclude, the Spanish fought back and reconquered Spain, finally kicking out the Moors in 1492. 

Basilica

We also went to the Basílica Catedral Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia, which was built in the 1970s. Instead of seeing the Virgin, I had to pee. There was an attendant who handed me three squares of TP on my way in, but of course, there was no toilet paper in the stalls. As usual, though, I was prepared with travel tissues. By the time I was done, those who had gone into the church were already exiting, so it can't have been that exciting. 

sugarcane field

Our next stop was a plantation, where they grow coffee, cocoa, and sugar cane. There were large concrete slabs out front for drying out the coffee and cocoa beans. We got to try freshly ground cocoa mixed with sugar from the sugar cane. It was heavenly. They also cracked open a couple cocoa pods so we could try the fresh cocoa beans.




Lunch was at a ranch. There was a cigar rolling demonstration before eating. After the meal, there was the option of a horseback ride. Lauren went ahead, but it was hot and humid, so riding a horse did not sound fun at that point. Also, I heard the hammock calling my name for a siesta.

Frank at Macao

The last stop was Macao beach, which is undeveloped, in that there are no resorts built there. I hate sand, so I stayed on the bus and got hit on by the bartender. There was a child playing in the sand next to the bus. She had a cup and was pouring sand all over herself...on her legs and arms, in her hair. I was just glad I wasn't the one with sand covering my body. *shudder*


 


We were exhausted when we got back to the resort, so we promptly took a nap. Any day where I can have one nap I consider a success, so two naps was trophy-worthy.

Is This Where You Put Your Children?

not a baby holder

That's exactly what I asked myself upon seeing this when entering the restroom at Goose Island Brewery in Chicago over the weekend. And no, I wasn't drunk. It would be helpful, wouldn't it? For people who have to take their child into the restroom to be able to strap them to the wall and go without having to worry that the kid is going to crawl on the floor, which you know is disgusting and wet. I mean, why is everything in a public restroom wet? But no, it's a nifty hand dryer, the Dyson AirBlade. Sounds pretty bad-ass, right? I felt awkward using it, trying not to touch the sides, because clearly it must be crawling with germs.

because I'm always worried about unsafe TP conditions

Also, the toilet paper dispenser was smart, safe, and sanitary. Because, as Lauren put it, I'm usually worried about my arm being cut off while getting TP. It could happen, people. You should insist your office put in San Jamar TP dispensers, so you too can be safe in the restroom.

Attracting Locals

In many foreign countries, especially where feminism hasn't taken off, something about American girls inspires the local men to salivate over them, hooting and hollering like crazy. Punta Cana proved no different--Lauren and I both got ourselves what we like to call "bartender boyfriends." Here's a day-by-day play-by-play of our encounters.

Saturday:

We had full bottles of liquor in our room for shots!

The night we flew in, we were exhausted, so we had some shots and went to dinner. On our way back to our room, we bypassed the dance floor, knowing if we tried to cut through, our American-ness (or the fact that we were hotel guests) would encourage the entertainers, who were getting guests to dance, to force us to dance.

Sunday:
We hung out at the pool after our spa time. Lunch was in the large patio by the pool, where one of the table clearers kept winking at me. He never said anything other than asking whether I was done with my plate, but he did wink every time I saw him that week.

After pool time, we hit the bar because...well, we already paid for it. Luis started flirting with me and Victor with Lauren. After a nap and dinner, we went back to the bar, where they made eyes at us the whole night. These were our main "bartender boyfriends."

Monday:
The second day, we went on a "safari." The most important employee on our truck was the bartender, who was in love with me. He kept telling me how pretty I was and tried to hold my hand every time he helped me off the truck. Driving past his favorite bar, he said "there, you drink, you dance, you sex." At the lunch stop, he dreamily told the bartender from another truck, "mira ella--ella es especial (look at her--she's special)." At the last stop, I was sitting on the bus waiting for the rest of the group, and he offered me: "Beer?" No. "Rum?" No. "Coke?" No. "Sprite?" No. "Water?" No. "Me?" Haha, clever, but no. 

Since we went back to the bar that night, we were back to being hit on by Luis and Victor. Also that night, Peluca (not his real name), one of the entertainers, asked Lauren to dance. He was apparently not that great of a dancer, more like a tweener at a junior high dance. He kissed her hand before depositing her back with me.

Tuesday:
We were hanging out by the pool when Peluca spotted us. He offered to sunscreen Lauren, but his technique was a little lacking since he had apparently jammed a finger and was in quite a bit of pain. Lauren, being a nurse, told him he should have it checked out.

We did water aerobics with Bugs Bunny (the entertainers were clearly not using their real names). At the end of class, he had everyone get in a circle and say their name and where they were from. When I said 'Monica,' he said, "oh, Monica Lewinsky, I am your Bill Clinton" and hugged me. Machine (again, with the name) introduced himself to Lauren, but Peluca was quick to jump in and claim her; he proceeded to kiss her cheeks, all European-like, and then give her a peck on the lips. Not cool dude, not cool. He wanted to eat lunch with us, but we fake passed out on our pool loungers.

That night, we met some American guys, Nick and Matt, also staying at the hotel and were hanging out at the bar. We actually attracted quite a crowd that night, including Paula, who was getting blitzed since it was her last night. She was trying to get our group and some of the bartenders to go to the disco, but we had to get up early the next day. So we passed on the disco, even though our bartender boyfriends were gung-ho about it.

Wednesday:
When we went to check in for SCUBA diving, the guy at the dive desk radioed to the boat that he had un hombre y dos chicas bonitas. 

Lauren and I grabbed lunch at the main restaurant. Our water waiter called me 'princesa' the whole time and asked if I would go to the disco with him that night. I told him I'd try, and he insisted, "you won't forget me, will you?" I don't know about forget so much as prefer to sleep. 

We met up with Nick and Matt for the rest of the day. What else was there to do but go to the bar for the evening? Our bartender boyfriends got jealous that night. Luis wouldn't even look at me; he kept shaking his head and looking away. Victor had a sad look on his face all night but did ask Lauren if she would go for a walk on the beach with him, "just for 30 minutes." "I know what 30 minutes on the beach means," Lauren informed him, refusing to go.

Peluca didn't seem to mind, though, since he dragged Lauren to the dance floor again. Victor glared at Peluca as he whisked Lauren away. I told him he should go punch him, and he said he might.

Thursday:
We hung out with Nick and Matt all day and had a completely different experience of not being hit on. Except when I went to exchange towels by myself, and the towel guy teased me that I couldn't exchange towels but had to take the towel cards. So I took the cards then handed the cards back and requested two towels.

At dinner, the water waiter from the day before either didn't recognize me or chose to ignore me. Our bartender boyfriends were still resentful that we had abandoned them.

Friday:
Nick and Matt left Friday, so it was back to the bar by ourselves that night. We had tips for our bartender boyfriends. But first, we had to convince our beaus that the guys were only amigos, not competition. Victor was easy to sway, especially when Juan Carlos, another bartender, tried to convince Victor that Lauren was his and I was Victor's. Victor would have none of that. Luis took a lot more persuading, but I was able to win back his affection by the end of the night.

We are fans of dollar folding, so our tips were folded into origami shapes. Lauren's tip for Victor was a boat, "barquita for you to visit me." Victor informed Lauren that while there are other pretty girls that come to the resort, she's the only one who has stolen his heart; he couldn't stop thinking about her. Mine for Luis was a ring, which he promptly showed off to his boss. He told me I needed to come back next year because he likes looking at me. I told him I like to see other places. "No, you work, save your money, and come back here next year." I'm an accountant, buddy, I know how it works.

Lauren and Victor

Luis and I

Saturday:
We had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to get to the airport for our flight home. The driver who picked us up, was asking if we were married or had kids. When I told him no, he said I needed to marry a Dominican, and I would have lots of kids. When I told him that I love kids but don't want any of my own, he said maybe I shouldn't marry a Dominican!

ETA: Sorry for the previously whorephobic title (and permalink).

How My Sister and I Had a Couples Massage...

...or Foreign Massage Should Come with a Nudity Warning

Our first day at Riu Bambu in Punta Cana, Lauren and I were hoping for some pool time. However, Mother Nature had some rain in mind. We were already by the pool, with our swimsuits on, so we decided to start our vacation out right--at the spa! 

We picked the body scrub, wrap, facial, massage, manicure, and pedicure package for the low price of 5400 Dominican Republic pesos or $138.43. Gotta love a favorable exchange rate!  

The girl behind the counter said they had now available if we wanted. Yes! But we needed to go back to the room to get our credit cards. So we hiked back to our room and came back with our credit cards. And by hike, I mean walk--we were in the last row of bungalows, but it was all flat, paved ground. I actually had to shuffle so as not to slip out of my wet flip flops and break another ankle.

The good and bad thing about an all-inclusive is that you don't have to carry around money. Good because you are not going to get mugged and do not have to pay for food and drinks. Bad because if you want to book any additional excursions, you do need money, but it's in the safe in your room. 

We paid (the girl was confused that we both had the same last name--"somos hermanas") and were led back to the waiting area. Then, we were called into a room...together...and there were 2 massage tables set up, complete with flowers. So yea, sister couple's massage! I'm thinking, 'we'll be covered, so it'll be ok.'

The masseuses started clearing the froofiness off the massage tables, and one of them said, "You take clothes off." Now, we looked at each other like 'Is she serious? They're still in here?' I looked around for a curtain or closet--nope. We shrugged and started taking off our cover ups then paused. One came over, threw her arms over her head, and said, "Everything off!" Lauren was apparently lagging behind because the girl grabbed her swuimsuit bottoms and insisted, "dees too."

We lay on the tables face down...no bum cover...just naked. Then the body scrub started, and I found out why there was no bum cover: it was scrubbed, too. Whispered in my ear, "tin ofa pwis." "What?" "Tun ofa pees." "What?" "Tun ova pwees." Oh 'turn over, please.' I did get a cootchie cover while on my back, more like a bandanna. I later learned Lauren was not so fortunate there. 

While on my back, the girl exfoliated my cleavage and under my boobs and my sides. Not the tots themselves, but definitely between and all around them.

Lauren was told to go to the shower in the back of the room to rinse the scruby off. When it was my turn, I sneaked a peak toward the shower through squinted eyes to blur my vision. Lauren was getting out; she was given a very large towel, bath sheet-sized. So she was completely covered while we had to pass each other. I was not. We just looked away, and I tried to cover the important bits.

When I was done rinsing, I received a hand towel. That's right, a hand towel. I kind of questioned the unequal distribution of towels, but whatever, the whole situation was already a hot mess, and the hand towel did the job. Before I stepped out of the shower, my girl told me to turn around and slathered something slimy on my back and backside.

When I got back to the table, it was covered in a large sheet of plastic, Dexter-style. I wasn't too scared of getting stabbed through the heart, so I laid down on my back, which was particularly difficult because the goop on my back was super slippery. Later, I learned Lauren did not have the luxury of being slathered before getting back on the table. No, she had to lay face-down then flip over while gracefully attempting not to slide off the table. 

Keep in mind that in the US, we'd have been covered, and the masseuse would have lifted the cover, looked away, and replaced the cover once flipped. But I will remind you: we were completely naked. Just imagine her flipping while trying desperately not to turn the massage table into a slip-n-crack-your-skull-open (aka slip-n-slide). 

But I digress. Once the goop was spread over our bodies, the plastic wrap was pulled around, except that I had a foot-wide naked strip down my front. A sarong was laid over that. Also, the overhead fan was on full force, so I was thankful to be wrapped up because the slime was cold as it evaporated.  

On to the facials, which were pretty uneventful. Lauren's girl did say to my girl, "Esta máscara está muy bien buena!" (This mask is very good good). They put cucumbers on our eyes, and we heard the door open and shut. Neither of us could see if they were both out of the room, what with the cucumbers and all. So we didn't say anything. 

A few minutes later, the door opened and shut, and they finished our facials. We showered the goo off, and the towel disparity continued. Then, we were massaged, including the buttocks. The cootchie cover inequality also continued.

Whispered in my ear, "aw feeneesh." Lauren was not given any indication her massage was over, except that it stopped. The door opened and closed. We looked at each other, and Lauren questioned, "I guess we're done?" We had a little giggle but were afraid the masseuses were listening just outside the door so did not collapse into uncontrollable laughter like we did later. So we just put our swimsuits on while averting our eyes.

The manicures and pedicures were also relatively mundane. We were given German fashion magazines to read. Neither of us knows German, but I think it was all they had. I kept chipping the manicure by dinking my fingers into the bowl or the towel on the table. That girl spoke very little English, but she kept making fun of me through random squeaks and pointing. I scraped all the nail polish off my fingers by the time we got back to the room (finger nail polish makes my nails feel heavy and unnatural). 

The moral of this story is that foreign concepts of modesty are much different from the US, so if you're not at peace with your body, you may want to avoid massage out of the country (or at least discuss prior with the front desk/masseuse).

Frustrations in Vacation Planning

This past April, one of my sisters and I went to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. It was supposed to be a girl's vacation...I mean we're both girls, so I suppose we succeeded on that objective :) But some friends had expressed interest in going on vacation together, maybe an all-inclusive. I'm up for pretty much any travel my friends suggest, so I happily researched where and when to go. 

First off, do you know how difficult it is to plan a vacation when you don't know where you want to go? Or how hard it is to research all-inclusive resorts? Every other trip I've taken, I knew the destination first and ran with it. Also, I had never done an all-inclusive so didn't know where to start. 

Anywho, based on recommendations from many people and extensive internet research, I narrowed it down to a couple resorts in Punta Cana and picked a week in April. I sent the info and...crickets. I mean, zero response.

A couple weeks later, I finally talked to the friend who originally suggested a girl's trip. She lamented that she would not be able to go because she couldn't get a whole week off work, and neither could our other friend. And you couldn't have told me that sooner? If I had know that, I would have looked into somewhere they could get to with a single flight so that they could go for a long weekend.

By that point, I had already put so much effort into planning Punta Cana that I wasn't going to change it. Oh well! My sister ended up being able to go, though, so I still went and had a blast! So there.

The moral of this story is that no matter how much I love travel, there will always be frustrations, and overcoming them makes me somewhat of a superhero! If only I had a cape...

Fun with Learning

A lot of learning occurred last week while on vacation with some college friends and one of my sisters in the Florida Keys. There may or may not have been drinking involved. Oh, and John left the room when things got real. Discussion topics included:

Alcohol enemas: The new trend for high schoolers/college students wherein alcohol goes up the pooper because it gets you drunk faster. Really? Doesn't that take the social aspect out of drinking? My sister suggested gin because, "I would rather put gin in my ass hole than in my mouth because it tastes like pine trees."

Anal bleaching: Because some people are self conscious that their anus looks like an anus, and heaven forbid it be the color nature intended. 

Back, sack, and crack (BSC) wax: The male pain equivalent to the Brazilian. 

Third eye: AKA your ass hole. As in "my third eye just closed when discussing alcohol enemas, anal bleaching, and the BSC." 

Hipster: Oh, how to define hipster to someone who was not aware it was a thing? Basically anything with mainstream popularity should be shunned and anything disliked by the mainsteam is super-cool. 

IMDB: really? How can you not know about this?

Manicure vs. pedicure: The token male in the group had not had either but was game to get a pedicure alongside his girlfriend. However he could not remember which term was for hands and which was for feet. It's all about etymology!

Cootchie or Hoo ha cover: As in for my Dominican Republic couples massage with my sister, I had one and she didn't. 

Mustache ride: While discussing poor t-shirt choices for guys ("that's a great story, now go make me a sandwich"), Laura said, "it must be a joke--who would wear that?" I told her have seen guys legit wearing "free mustache rides" shirts.

Like throwing a hotdog down a hallway: This phrase is actually about a loose woman, but we used it to describe very bad sex while responding to the anti-sext "I'm off the market."

I also shared some Bad Lip Reading videos: The Hunger Games, Twilight, and Russian Unicorn.

Looking back, I was the one dispensing the knowledge...hmmm...What does that say about me?

Reality is a Drag

Some people in our group recommended we go to a drag show in Key West. They recommended Aqua Nightclub, so Aqua's 'Reality is a Drag' show it was! Since we're lame and wanted to go to bed early (it was an hour drive back), we decided on the 7:00 show. There was hardly anyone in the bar when we arrived, so we got seated front and center. 

Victoria, the evening's host, opened with a number wherein she harassed some audience members, myself included. She looked down from the stage, saw the size of my hoots, walked down, and grabbed them. Can't say I blame her; I was kinda expecting it. 

She gave her spiel, saying, "If you come in straight and leave gay, it's your own damn fault. This is a bar. And what do you do at a bar? Drink. The more you drink, the better I look!" Then she asked whose first drag show it was: "I thought I smelled fear." 

Angel, a fellow audience member, jumped up, raised her hand, and announced, "It's my birthday!" "Shut up, slut--we'll get to you," Victoria ordered. Angel's jaw dropped. "Oh, close your mouth, you look like a blow-up doll." As we later learned, Angel was celebrating her 21st birthday...with her family...at a drag show. Her father was so uncomfortable as to appear frozen. 

Sassy and Inga also performed. Sassy was a little blah, but gorgeous. Inga was hilarious! She came out dressed as a cow, complete with udders. First, she sang about her own teats, then about loving boobs in general. This is when she looked down my shirt approvingly and grabbed my maracas. She proceeded to sing about itty-bitty titties and pointed out some tots in my group. Laura wouldn't allow any of the performers to grab her puppies, but she kept count for me--my breasticles were fondled 5 times! 

We enjoyed ourselves enough to get stamped to come back for the 9:00 show, but by the time we got a ways down the street, we were drenched in sweat and decided to go back to the house, shower, and sleep. 

Damn it, I Forgot to Check my Boobs!

My sister, Lauren, and I were on our own for dinner in Key West one night, so we walked most of the way down Duval Street looking for a place to eat. Along the way, a bug flew down my shirt, so I start flailing, trying to get the bug out. 

Thinking I succeeded, I calmed down... only to feel the flutter of its little wings right in my cleave! I can only imagine what those around me thought as I proceeded to yank my collar out and reach down to scoop the little guy out. 

But I didn't know if I had gotten all the bug parts out, and, because I didn't want to forget and find a random wing later, I was going to check in the restroom. However, I forgot, so upon returning to the table, I said, "Damn it, I forgot to check my boobs!"

What Happens in Key West...

Some college friends, my sister, and some friends of one of the college friends rented a house in Marathon Key for the week. We drove down to Key West a few nights. 

For dinner, my college friends, sister, and I went to Margaritaville, where our waiter opened with, "You're going to have crappy service tonight. If you have a shot of tequila before dinner and one after dinner, it will make my poor performance seem much better. Help me to help you." Throughout dinner, he was giving everyone a hard time, in a funny, joking way. 

We went on our way after dinner but saw him out at a bar he had suggested. Later, he awkwardly kissed someone's ear, and even later, there was a moment of panic regarding suspected stalking, but he disappeared. Foof! We made sure to walk on the other side of the road or walk swiftly past the restaurant the rest of the time.

At Rick's Bar, we were the only ones dancing for most of the time we were there, but there was a guy in a black shirt who came up behind my friend and her boyfriend and started grinding on her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was slightly alarmed but continued dancing. 

Black shirt guy moved on to dance with all of us, asking each if she had a husband. Someone told him, "yes, in fact, I have three husbands!" And that all of us there were staying at the same place and, in fact, in the same bed. He offered his bed, but the offer was not accepted. When he asked me, I said no, and he reacted like he was annoyed: "geez, everyone here has a husband." Maybe he misheard me? 

"Desperate Dance"  note his wide smile and look of desperation in his eyes

Anyway, black shirt guy's friend, plaid shirt guy, joined in dancing for a while, twirling me around the dance floor. He asked what we were all doing there, so I told him it was a girl's trip...well, plus one boyfriend. He grinned and said, "I left my boyfriend at home!" Then he proceeded to do the desperate dance with me, confusing me. Then, black shirt guy went back to his group of friends, threw his empty beer bottle on the floor, and was promptly kicked out.

Continuing on at Rick's, there was a man we deemed to be a local who was dancing by himself, refusing to dance with anyone else. He was schmammered. He humped a garbage can and then banged the air while using a beer bottle as his schlong. We tried to get one of my friends to dance with him, but she was a little intimidated by all the thrusting.