What’s Your Preference?

A couple months ago, I went to lunch with a friend. We were catching up about my time in Australia and about life in general.

We were probably talking about Facebook when she told me my page says to ask about my relationship status. I told her that was because I'd taken off that I was single and interested in men a few years ago, right when Facebook started targeting ads based on your info. Because I find targeted ads creepy and was sick of getting ads for dating websites and that the ads stopped immediately after taking that info off. 

She persisted and questioned if there was anything to ask about, then interrupted herself and said she thought she already knew. “What do you think you know?” I asked, and she said, "There's a girl you had posted a picture with a while ago, and she changed her profile picture to it recently."

Me and Alli

"Oh, Alli? Yea, we're soul mates, but I'm straight." By soul mates, I meant we like the same music and reading and maps and tequila and random dance parties. She asked if I was sure and said she'd talked about it with her boss about it. He'd told her some people who travel long-term are asking themselves questions about life and that they go off to travel, meet new people, try different things, and come to some answers. All of which I agree with, so I asked her what the question was. "Your preference."

Yea, still straight.


ETA: My point was that I just don't understand the curiosity about other people's sexuality.
Just wanted to make clear that it's not an insult to be asked if I'm a lesbian or bi-sexual.

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!

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. 

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.