Oedipus

In my haste to clean my apartment before the building codes inspector came, I neglected to remove this Natalie Dee cartoon from my bathroom mirror. Dang. I've blown my cover as "kind, sweet, mild mannered girl upstairs."
Of course, the nearly naked Red Hot Chili Peppers (circa 1988) at the top of the stairs would probably give it away (no pun...ah, hell, Pun Intended, Moth...dang.)

Even more Jamaica photos

Start at the bottom and work your way up. Or don't. It won't hurt.
(left) This is what the hotel did for the happy couple (on their bed).
(right) The pretty wedding cake and display.





(Left) Appetizers as big as your key.
(right & bottom left) Pretty desserts












(right) Gary with Tina's niece, Ashley. So cute.




and lastly...
The tacky wedding couple we saw at the airport! He's got a ball and chain on his hat and she has a veil.

more photos from Jamaica

(left) Tina and Gary--The Bride & Groom

(right)

Michelle, Kelli, and me

(left) Tina & Michelle--That girl is CRAZY.

(right) Roger & Kelly--A fun couple.

(left) Tina and her Dad on the

way to being a Mrs.

(right) The knot has been tied. That's

Tina's Uncle Donald officiating.

I've got nothing to say but it's okay.

I'm avoiding typing up an employee review. I have nothing of substance to say, except how cute was Annika's little darling, Sam, last night at Stitch N Bitch? Too cute! He was so good, with nary a peep, and he has the most edible toes. ('cause we all know baby toes is good eats) Check out Sachi's blog for an adorable photo of him in the sock monkey hat from the Happy Hooker book. He made me have a cute attack.

Ellen brought in an old knitting magazine (circa 1970?) with the most frightening, yet I-must-make-them, ski masks. Bank heist, anyone?

And, since I STILL don't have my pictures developed, allow me to tease you with some photos that Tina, the bride, took while we were in Jamaica. I look "relaxed" in most of the pictures and all I'm saying is FREE BOOZE ALL DAY.









Kelli and me on the plane waiting to take off.

Kelli and me at the Seville restaurant

waiting to be seated. I'm red.

L-R: Me, Kelli, Tina & Michelle (cut off)

Tina's rack is a big hit.

Okay, Blogger is being persnickety. I'll have to start another post.

Little Victories

Forgive me, for I am about to shift into the old lady "back in my day" mode. You may want to skip this one, as I'm climbing up on my soapbox now. Where to begin, hmmm...

Maybe you've received that email about "back in the day." You know, "Back in the day, we drank water from a dirty garden hose and lived to tell." or "Back in the day, Little League held tryouts and not everyone made the team," and many things about how great it was to be a kid back in the 50's, 60's, 70's--basically before the advent of video games and home computers. Well, here is my "back in the day" gripe for the day.

"Back in the day, you had one graduation ceremony and you worked 12 long years to get there. "

Granted, I’m not a mom so I have no frame of reference, but it seems to me that to big a deal is being made over scholastic achievement. Maybe that’s not the right way to say it, but here’s what I mean. Last week, a manager had to take the day off to go to her niece’s 5th grade graduation. 5th Grade! Then in three years, there’ll be an 8th grade graduation. Then a 12th grade graduation. What happened to just one graduation after 12 long years of work? What happened to the expectation, to the goal, the light at the end of the tunnel, keeping your eyes on the prize? I can kind of understand the 8th grade graduation because it marks the end of lower grades and the beginning of high school. But 5th grade? Sure, they’re going into middle school, but so what?
Well, today I heard the one that just floored me. A manager has to attend a ceremony for her son’s “first grade completion certificate.” Give me a break! A ceremony because the kid made it through his first year of all-day school? And it’s not just line ‘em up and give out certificates. Oh no, there will be singing. Her son is singing “Time of your life” by Green Day, which I’m sure will be adorable because this kid is too cute with his blonde hair and big blue eyes. But seriously? Time of your life??? He’s 6!!!
And don't get me started on those Nursery School/ Kindergarten graduations. Congratulations!! You've mastered napping and graham cracker consumption!


Does all this pomp and circumstance make the big high school graduation anti-climactic? Shouldn't you have to work for something? I mean, really work for it, not just show up every day. Isn't it enough just knowing that you made it to the next grade? Is the ceremony really necessary. The passing grades on your report card should be enough certification to hold you over for the big one. The caps and gowns should be reserved for something really noteworthy.

Is it a sick day if you're at work?

Isn't the internet a wonderful thing? I mean, there I was, innocently catching up on Uccellina's latest blog entry, when I clicked on a link for I may be knitting a ranch house . She in turn, had a link for a "moldy bread" plushie she had recently purchased for her boyfriend, which lead me to www.mypapercrane.com, and Oh. My. God. This woman, Heidi Kenney, makes plush dolls of everything. And I mean EVERY THING. What girl doesn't want her very own stuffed tampon? I personally want the burnt toast plush, in either the 5 x5 or pillow sized (my birthday is in November, for anyone wishing to get me something cute). Check out the whole set, for such delights as plush donuts, plush milk cartons, plush used tissues (yep, you heard that right) and so many more things that I just can't list here, but which made me squeal like a little girl. Miss Kendra, this is right up your alley.

I wanted to call in sick today. I was on my way--dialed the first three numbers--when I realized that a) the boss is out so no one would take the call; b) there is a report that absolutely must be run today; and c) staying home means running the risk of having to deal with Frau Landlady. I'm not staying though. I'm feel queasy. I have to clean my apartment, and really, I just want to sit outside and read a book. Is that too much to ask?

Happy Birthday Mommy!

Today is my mother's 70th birthday. In the tradition (if two entries justifies a tradition) of birthdays, here are some things about my mother (selective memory applied liberally).

• She's an excellent cook and her Christmas cookies are legendary. She would make them by the gross beginning in early November, then hide them away for Christmas. Our greatest challenge was the find the stash of cookies. Oh, and her cut-out cookies--so buttery, so thin; they melt on your tongue. Pies? Oh, man can that woman make a pie. And the dough from scratch, mind you. Sadly, I never learned the pie dough from scratch part. It's Pillsbury ready-made for me. Cakes? Oh, she made this coffee cake that was rolled up in a tube and then clipped with scissors. When it was baked, it would split open. (sigh). Yep, I owe my love of home cooking to this woman, for sure.
• She can take a bumper crop of zucchini and make something different for dinner every night of the week. It's true. Think of that guy from Forrest Gump talking about shrimp and insert zucchini. That was Mom the year the zucchini would not stop growing. Zucchini bread, pie, baked, steamed, etc--and canned or frozen for winter eating too.
• She has some mind control powers behind her dark brown eyes that made it impossible to lie to her. She always knew. Not to mention the "mom look" she would give us when we talked during mass. Scary.
• She has the guilt trip down to an art form. Subtle, yet lasting, ever so lasting...
• She taught me to crochet and knit and sew (Katie too), for which I am always grateful.
• She also taught me how to read a recipe, for which I am also grateful.
• Speaking of reading, she bought me three books for no reason one day when I was just learning to read. I remember the story lines to this day. God bless her for encouraging me to read.
• She's nuts! No, really. Certifiable. It must be the Southern roots. Call it bipolar or just plain crazy--but I love her anyway. I'd get into the depths of her craziness, but I haven't got all day, you know. However, here is just a tiny little peek: She would clean the house while we kids were out playing. Whatever we didn't take up to our rooms got tossed into the front yard. The neighborhood kids would come yell to us, "Hey, your mom's cleaning again and your stuff is in the yard." Humiliating. Now I'm not a mom so I don't know how frustrating it is to clean up after someone (or five someones, in this case) but at what point does throwing it out the front door become a solution. Because, as humiliating as it was, it didn't work. We still left our stuff in the living room.
• She was beautiful in her youth. Classic beauty--like Sophia Loren or Natalie Wood. I looked just like her as a child, but grew up to look more like her twin sister, Janet, and my grandmother (the other crazy Southern woman) Ruth. It's the eyes. Katie got Mom's eyes. I got Grandma Ruth's. Every once in a while, though, I'll look in the mirror and it's pure Joan looking back at me. There's still a trace of her former beauty visible today, but her hairdresser insists on dyeing her hair too dark for her skin tone. Po dunk hairdressers don't understand the intricacies of hair color.
• She loves me to pieces because I'm the baby, and I'll always be her baby.

So, send out a good"Happy Birthday" vibe to my mommy. I know she'll feel it and maybe even appreciate it.

Hats off to pioneers of food

Did you ever look at one of your favorite food items and wonder "who was the first person to think 'this would be a tasty treat' "? I do. I wonder mostly about things like truffles (the fungus ones, not the chocolate ones) and shrimp. But what about everyday foods that wouldn't be so every day had not been for someone long, long ago deciding it was good to eat. To them I say, "Thanks."

Hooray for the first person to grind a coffee bean and mix it with hot water. And hooray for Pope Clement VIII for not thinking that coffee was a terrorist plot to destroy Christianity. (My Catholic guilt would have killed me by now otherwise)

Hooray for Alexander the Great for discovering that bananas are darn tasty and thus instigating their mass cultivation.

Hooray for the ancient Egyptians for separating curds and whey to make cottage cheese and feta.

Hooray for the first baker to create a bagel, and for the immigrants who brought them to the Lower East Side. Because everyone knows that New York City bagels are the only ones worth eating.

Can you tell I wrote this after breakfast?

Hooray for those ancient Mayans for drinking chocolate . Hooray for Christopher Columbus for bringing it back to Ferdie and Izzie. And especially, Hooray for Joseph Fry and the Cadburys for making the delicious chocolate bars we love today.

Hooray, again, for the Egyptians--this time for mushroom consumption. Food of royalty? You bet! But we commoners love them too. Let's not forget the first person to figure out the mind-altering effects of 'shrooms, too. You know, they say women in the hunting-and-gathering era had better eyesight in dim light and could tell the good mushrooms from the bad. I wonder how many early women "accidentally" slipped their knuckle-dragging husbands a bad mushroom to get out of a bad match.

And speaking of mind altering, who was the first person to lick a toad? Why would you even consider toad licking? I digress...

And while I'm at it, can I get an Amen for the harnessing of fire! Go Homo Erectus! Without you, what would we do on the 4th of July? (psst...that's a reference to outdoor grilling--try to keep up).

Hooray for the ancient civilizations of the mediterranian region for olives, especially the black ones. Yum. Put 'em on your fingertips and pretend they are pretty fake nails and them eat them off one by one. Or, use them to cut chunks out of the canned Cranberry Sauce, thus filling them with jellied cranberry and making them extra tasty. What? You never played with your food? You never pulled the pimento half way out of a stuffed olive and made an olive turkey? Pffft...you're no fun.
Also, olives are good for your skin.

Hooray for the Persians, Chinese, Arabs and Italians, all of whom had a hand in creating Ice Cream. Sorbets, Italian Ices, Iced Creams--whatever they are, frozen confections are my favorite. Bring on the brain freeze!

Lastly, Hooray for Wikipedia for all the information above.

So, it's Monday, is it?

I'm tired of sweating. I'm moving to Syracuse, where summer only lasts three weeks. Okay, not really. I love LA. I hate the sweating though. And it was hot this weekend folks, hotter than a freshly...well, it was hot. My puny little fan was not cutting it. It was the equivalent of having someone blow on your face. It doesn't help that my sofa is covered in an itchy/tweedy blend.

I got a mani-pedi on Saturday. They told me the pedicure chairs were "booked all day" but they'd squeeze me in if they could. It didn't look good for ol' gnarly toes until Cathy, my manicurist, took it upon herself to commandeer a chair for me and do my pedicure herself. What a gal! She even gave me cute flowers. However, she incurred the wrath of one of her fellow employees, Lu, who proceeded to rant at her in their native tongue. Cathy didn't seem to mind and gave Lu a classic "whatev" look. I tipped her generously.

Why won't Michael's stock more than just rudimentary knitting supplies? Would it kill them to have a freakin' selection?

Sunday was laundry day. Frau Landlady was just leaving the backyard area when I was packing my trunk with laundry. She said she's working on getting a laundry facility in the back where the sheds are, which would be sweet. She was so nice to me that I felt a little guilty for badmouthing her on a regular basis. I got over it.
Anywho, I bought a Crunch Wrap at Taco Bell before going to the Laundromat so I could get change. The bills they gave me looked like they'd been used to scrub the bathroom. So, I took my ten to 7-11 to get change and they bills they gave me were just as bad. He wouldn't change them for better bills because they "don't give change for the Laundromat." Well, I'm not asking for change; I'm asking for you to exchange the bills you gave me for something that isn't barely worthy of circulation. Fortunately, the attendant gave me change.
So, packed my clothes in, started the washer and left me baskets in front, then headed to the car for my book. When I returned from the 10-foot trip, a gaggle of women had swarmed the folding table area in front of my washer and literally threw my baskets across the floor. Bitches!!! I think they fucked with my washer too, because I absolutely pushed the cold water button for my shirts and they were most definitely warm when I removed them from the washer. Arrgghh!
Then--some creepy guy was watching me fold my laundry and I actually saw him touch himself while I was folding my panties. Ew! EWWWW! He was wearing short shorts, too. The kind they work in the late 70's/ early 80's with knee-high tube socks and Nikes. EEEWWWW! Involuntary shivers running down my spine.

Does anyone care that Jimmy cracked corn?

I just ruined a shot for "Entourage." They are filming, or were, on Sunset Blvd, and I had to run out and shout across the street to our maintenance guy. I saw the folks sitting around with cameras and what not, but I thought nothing of it. This is LA. I stopped about midway down the street and shouted "Russell!" He didn't hear me. So, I walked farther down the street, right in front of all the idle film crew and shouted again. "Russell! Call me when you're done over there." I turned to walk back up the street when I notice Vinnie Chase (aka Adrian Grenier) sitting on the steps in front of Tower Records, and the entire entourage (pardon the pun) of film folk giving me the stare of death as I sauntered back to my office. Oops. I stopped a safe distance away and watched the scene play out. He, Vinnie, is standing in front of Tower, while some chick with a big Tiffany's bag is walking down the street. Vinnie then runs across Sunset Blvd. Aaaaand Scene! If you're an "Entourage" watcher, look for that scene and know that I ruined a take.

I'm tired. I want to go home now, please. What? I have to actually do some work first? Ah, man! Are you serious? Okay. I'll, oh, I don't know, finish typing something. How's that? Will that work?

I was going to include a gratuitous vacation photo but Blogger is sucking the big one today and won't upload images. Poop!

The morning loathes the night before

I'm sleepy on account of my staying out way too late and I had to train two people on various managerial type things on the ol' PC, like Word, Excel, Outlook, etc. I'm not sure how much training was accomplished.

I was out of the office all day yesterday for a product presentation. Six hours of music and more music, at which I have the pleasure of running the stereo equipment. Usually, I'm a stressed out freak and snap at the slightest annoyance, but hell, after a vacation on a Caribbean island, I couldn't care less. Stereo acting up? Whatev. Presenters don't have their stuff in order? So. Actually, it went incredibly smooth, even if we did have to hear Paris Hilton's new single, with nine (count them) remixes.

Came home, napped until 6:55, and headed out to the Farmer's Market for my sock tutorial by the lovely, and dare I say adorable in her ghetto fabulous fall, Sachi. It wasn't as painful as I had anticipated, but it was still pretty scary. I'm hoping to make some kind of headway before next Thursday so I can make her proud. I'm also going to buy bigger needles and bigger yarn which is more suitable for beginning sock knitters like me. Who knows, kids. By next Christmas, it may be socks all around. Or, it may just be hats to match all the scarves I made last year (and this year). We'll see.



After SnB, which was too much fun due to it being Wig Night, and Laurie's (not me, Crazy Aunt Purl) birthday, I went home, took the trash out and headed off to my other Thursday night haunt with my favorite friends, like the German, Cabbiehat Chessbuddy, Dave, and John "Existentialism has been very hard on me lately" Love. John was in rare form last night. We watched The Thin Red Line and can I just say, "Who isn't in this movie?". Seriously, every young male actor in Hollywood was in this movie, or at least the ones who didn't make the cut for Saving Private Ryan. Every time Jim Caviezel came onscreen, John said, "Ah, Jesus." Then, he said, "I would be in such great shape if I went to war." I love John, but a little Love goes a long way. Also, The Thin Red Line is a long ass movie. I didn't get to bed until 4:30, which is why I'm a tired girl today.

But I look damn cute 'cause I'm wearing a skirt.

photo courtesy of Ellen Bloom's Larry, who got in touch with his inner rock star while providing photographic evidence of what happens when knitters gather.

Why?

He's got the fifa.

Do not go gently into that good deal.

I still don't have any photos from Jamaica yet. Patience, Grasshoppers. When I do, I'll have them in a lovely Kodak Gallery that you can all peruse at your leisure (except maybe the embarrassing ones).

So, allow me to rant for a moment about my Court Reporting school and the havoc it has caused in my life this week.

I'm all for upgrading the system--it hasn't been upgraded since 1940 or so--but have some consideration for your student body, and while you're at it, how about a little communication. So, for those of you who don't attend my school, here's the deal. We had a pow wow with the owner and he told us of a new school building (woo hoo), which will be opening next spring, and a new program (can I get an "Amen"), which will allow us to build up speed at our own pace by connecting to an internet-based learning tool, etc, etc (I don't want to bore you non-court reporting folks). In order to use this tool, we were initially told, we would need an upgraded steno machine and the software to build up our own personal dictionary. We were told if we had DSL and certain computer specs, we could access it from home to practice. In school, we'd be going to the computer lab during our "tape" periods.

THEN...

We had another pow wow with the owner during which we were told that we would need the new machine, the software, and a laptop with certain specs, as we will be using these in class instead of the usual teacher-dictation method we've been using. They got us a great discount on all three components, oh, and by the way, we'll be starting this new program in the July quarter so you need it NOW. We filled out a questionnaire about what equipment we'd be needing, and that was the last I heard anything. I blissfully left for vacation.

THEN...

I returned from vacation and still didn't see a bulletin regarding the equipment. I saw a line of students waiting to talk to some office folk, though, and figured I'd ask. Sure enough, I needed to fill out a form to see if I qualify for financing from some outside company for the steno equipment, and then apply with Dell for financing for the laptop. Now, I may not have mentioned it before, but I'm a failure as an adult and have no money skills whatsoever, so my credit is crap. I'm not going to qualify for any of this financing, and quite frankly, I cannot afford another bill in my life. I'd like to pay off some credit cards. I'd like to improve my credit score. I'd like to move out of my apartment in the ghetto to a better apartment in a better ghetto.

I spoke with the office folk, who look at you and say, "Oh, gee...um, I don't know. You'll have to talk to Mark,"when you ask about other options. Mark is magic. Mark has some special deals. Mark apparently sells equipment from the back of a truck in an alley in the warehouse district downtown (or not). Mark is on vacation this week. ARRGGH! I have to come to school during our break next week to meet the mysterious Mark and work out a deal. Perhaps I'll be paying him "in kind". I'm not above it.

Okay. Rant over. Go back to what you were doing. I'm going to have a drink (or several) and wait until I meet with Mark before deciding that prostitution is the way to go.

Excuse me while I panic a little

Panic #1:
I have a final tomorrow that I haven't studied for. I didn't even opened the book to study all weekend. I spent the entire day yesterday, when I should have been doing laundry and studying for my final, reading in bed, with the fan on high and blowing directly on me. I finished one book and picked up another (after a shower and a quick run to 7-11 for Diet Coke and Vanilla ice cream). The whole day! In bed. I'm a lazy little lump.
However, now I have a test to study for and no time to do it. Looks like an all-nighter.

Panic #2:
My apartment is a pigsty. I have three or four knitting/ crocheting projects piled at one end of the sofa. You can't see the coffee table for the pile of magazines, bills, and knitting patterns. The end table is full of CDs, DVDs, and books. The computer table is so full of crap that you can't see the laptop (which is useless anyway because of its age and the lack of internet connection). And the alcove--don't get me started. I was too busy before vacation, and I've been too busy since (if you count reading all day as busy). Now, this wouldn't be so much a problem, but the landlord, you know, Frau Busybody, is coming to look over the place this week as a pre-inspection before the Codes inspector comes next week. I have to clean. I need a maid.

Panic #3:
Product presentation in three days for which I do not have a lunch scheduled, the times scheduled, or any motivation to do either. Dang! What's wrong with me?

Okay, I need another cup of coffee and some nourishment. Then, I'll buckle down and get this new releases stuff done and also, maybe, order lunch for Thursday.

Panic over. (kind of)

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig

It's no use regaling you with tales of debauchery without photographic evidence to back it up, so I'm holding off until the pictures are developed. Suffice it to say that we all made it back in one piece, with darker skin and ten million insect bites. No really, I counted them. They aren't going away, either. Just call me Itchy McScratchy. Oh, and I may have committed a felony, or at least a misdemeanor punishable by fines up to $10,000. Yikes.

So, I inherited a road atlas of varicose veins from my mom (and all the women who came before her--Thanks!) and that combined with my weight and sedentary lifestyle has caused CVI, or Chronic Venous Insufficiency. I have scars on the back of my leg from this and my legs tend to swell up like Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, especially when I fly, or sit at my desk for long periods of time. Like now. My legs are not very attractive today. I can't shave because of all the bug bites that I don't want to cut open, and I am puffed up like a blowfish.

I have nothing more to say except, "Please make the itching stop."

This vacation has been interrupted for a very important meme

I have been given the letter P. What ten words can I think of that begin with P.

1. PAIN--Sunburn is a bitch, yo. I'm in lots of pain. We went to a formal dinner last night and every second spent in a bra was torture.
2. PEEPERS--As in the frogs, not eyes. Frogs! Millions of them. Okay, probably only hundreds, but they peep all night long. Like this--peep peep peep peep peep peep...and on and on into the night. It'll drive you crazy.
3. PLANS--they are going by the wayside. It looks like rain is eminent. Tina's eyes are swollen from the sun. The impromptu bridal shower didn't happen. The knitted edible undies were impossible to make, and I tried. I really, really tried. Dang!
4. PLUNGER--Anybody have one? Our toilet is backed up.
5. PLUGS--There are eight plugs behind the entertainment center in our room. We can't figure out what they all connect, but we unplugged a couple for the internet and the coffee pot. Let's hope nothing too dangerous happens.
6. PREPARATION H--Which might make Tina's swelling going down in time for the wedding, or help with the itching and swelling from all the bug bites which I am not so sure are mosquitos.
7. PERIOD--One of us gals, I won't say who, got hers just in time for vacation. Woo Hoo.
8. POT--Readily available from any one of the neffarious men who hang out on the beach at night.
9. POTENT--The rum drinks being served at the bars. You'd think at an all inclusive resort they would skimp on the alcohol, but not so. These drinks are way filled with alcohol, even at the swim up bar, where you'd think it wouldn't be advantageous to have people get drunk. Because the sign said there was a lifeguard on duty but I haven't actually seen one in four days.
10. Pythagorean Theorem--In any right triangle, the area of the square whose side is the hypotenuse (the side of a right triangle opposite the right angle) is equal to the sum of the areas of the squares on the other two sides. Does anyone understand this? I don't. But Pythagorean Theorem is fun to say. And this meme was all about vacation stuff and I wanted to sound intelligent.

Okay, that's it. See you folks later.

The rain stopped, but the pain begins

It was sunny yesterday morning, but the hour-by-hour forecast called for thunderstorms beginning at 11am. Kelli and I decided to take advantage of this window of sunshine and headed to the pool. Since we weren't going to be out long, we only took along her SPF15 spray.
We took an aquacise class until 11:00, and it was still sunny. So we swam up to the bar for a "Cool Running" (which totally explains why they thought they could bobsled-Whoa it was potent) and floated for a while. Time goes slower here in Jamaica, yeah mon, so we didn't know how long we floated. It felt like 15 minutes. Then we headed to the beach, where we bobbed in the water for a while talking with Tina's dad, before stretching out on a chaise. Back to the pool, then lunch. After lunch, we all (Tina's whole family and we three single gals) headed out to the beach again to ride the Banana Boat. I won't tell you about the unsuccessful struggle to get my fat butt up on the boat, but they road twice and that was another 30 minutes or so...well, let's just say we are red, red, red. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH! Seriously, what was I thinking. Tina laughed at my SPF50 earlier, but now, I sure do wish I'd been smart enough to bring it yesterday. Who knew? I didn't get out of the water and sun until 5:15! Ouch.

I'm not alone, though. Kelli and Gary are red too.

Today's the wedding. Let's hope for sunshine and no more mosquito bites. And that Tina's hair holds up in the humidity.
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On the way here...

We got our tickets and were heading to the security checks. A man in front of us was at the wrong spot and the woman checking boarding passes sent him on his way, then rolled her eyes at us and said, "Reading is fundamental." Okay, it's not as funny in print, but I laughed for 20 minutes afterward. You had to hear the delivery.

I was wearing Vans with no socks, so I didn't want to remove my shoes for the metal detector. I've done this before and never had a problem. This time, I got sent to the penalty box to wait for the only female employee on duty to pat me down. While I was waiting in the bulletproof area, someone shouted "Bravo!" and all the employees either froze or ran to the archway leading to the gate areas. No one was allowed to move until we got an all clear. Kelli, however, was already on the other side of the wall of security officers. I wasn't worried. Had there been a gunman, I was inside the box.

Okay, so we're waiting at the gate and, no lie, every couple sitting in our area had just been married the day before and were on their honeymoon. Kelli and I felt left out so we told everyone we were getting married too. Anywho, there was the trailer park couple with baseball caps for the Bride and Groom--her's with attached veil and his with a ball and chain. Lovely. Then, there was the bride who got married Saturday and STILL had her wedding hairdo going on. And quite a do it was. It was pinned in a million places and curled and twisted, and...well, I snapped a photo but you'll have to wait until I get back for it. All we could think was, she must have had a boring wedding night if her hair held up through it all. When we landed and I got to see the whole package, I noticed that she was wearing a Hawaiian print dress in the same material as her husband's shirt. How cute! (puke) Thus, Bride Head revisited.

While waiting in line for customs, there was a woman on the far side of 40, at least, with a hot, black man in his 20's, or possibly just 30. She was so skinny she looked like a skeleton, and she was wearing a tiny black skirt and tank/camisole thing. But the best part of the ensemble was the shoes. High, high wedged espadrilles. Now, I don't know about you, but when I get on a plane, I think ahead. "If this plane goes down, who is in the emergency exit row that will not be able to get the raft down and hinder my escape" and "Will these shoes work if I have to trudge across land or deserted island for survival." I may have seen Cast Away too many times. So I immediately think, upon seeing Stella, who clearly was getting her groove back, "How the hell would she have escaped and survived in THAT?" Maybe it's just me.

There was a 1 1/2 hour bus ride from the airport to the resort. Along the way, we saw the police (call 1-1-9 for emergency), lots of shacks, goats, cows, and a vulture eating a not-so-lucky roadkill. Our driver, Mel, gave us all kinds of advice (like what to eat and what not to smoke) and made us laugh, even though we were mostly falling asleep.

Oh, and the in-flight movie was The Pink Panther. All I'm saying is men in their fifties wearing leotards...who thought that was a good idea. And I like me some Jean Reno, but oh, Jean, not the spandex...please, never again.

The rain stopped, so keep your fingers crossed.

It's raining. Wah!

It's pouring like a bitch. Like a waterfall. Like a ruined vacation. Let's hope it's sunny on Thursday for Tina's wedding.

Yesterday when we arrived, our rooms weren't ready yet. It was hot, but not raining quite yet. And humid. Boy Howdy was it humid. "I hate it when it's sticky," she said with a dirty girl wink. So, we ate lunch. The rooms still weren't ready, so Tina led the brigade and we raided our luggage, which was still sitting curbside, and dug out our suits. We leapt into the beautiful pool and promptly swam to the bar for something cold and fruity and filled with rum.

Kelli found a volley ball and we gathered to play some water volley ball, when suddenly we were invaded by some fellow guests who were at the bar. We looked at each other and said, "I guess we're playing with these guys." A couple of volleys in (did I mention how much I suck at Volleyball?), Tina whispered to me, "Is that a leg?" Sure enough, there was a prosthetic leg on the edge of the pool. All of the men in the game with us seemed able bodied, so we kept looking around for who it might be. It turns out one of our fellow volleyers, Adam, was the pirate. His sister said it while we had more people on our side of the net. She actually said, "well, Adam's only got a leg and a half, so we need another player to make up for it. Adam may have had a half a leg, but he was still a thousand times better than me. I really, really suck.

Elsewhere in the pool was a man reading a book. IN the pool. This is what happens when Nerds go to the beach. We wanted to cannonball next to him but a) it was only 4'6" deep, and b) diving is forbidden. Oh well, the rain took care of him.

Michele, our roommate, is funny as all get out. She was lusting after the DJ at karaoke last night, but his girlfriend had attached herself to him like glue. He was cute, so it wsa understandable, but she was pretty cute herself.

Today, it was sunny at 8:00, but by 10:00 it was pouring and thundering. Yippee! I'm still moist from yesterday. Fortunately, we have this laptop, and there's always a bar open somewhere.

Later, I'll tell you about Brideshead Revisted and Stella, who got her groove back and brought him to Jamaica.

Oh, and I swear to you, Kelli, Michele, and I are the only single girls over 18 in this place. If I run into one more just married or about to be married couple I'm going to throw up...except Tina and Gary, of course. We like them.

Toodles! Wish me sunshine so I can get a tan!
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Be prepared for the Nothing

Well, folks, this is my last shot at a blog until my return. Unless, of course, the internet kiosk at the resort doesn't charge too much for connection. I may have something I'm just dying to tell you all. Also, the possibility of my phone working is slim, but if I can send a compromising photo via mobile blogger, I shall.

Otherwise, you're in for ten whole days without me. Rest assured, I shall return. And I'll have pictures. And possibly tales of scandalous escapades, merry mishaps, and Caribbean carousing.

Have Fun! Oh, wait, that's me. (hee hee)

Three days before boat drinks

I leave for my vacation in three days and UPS has lost my swimsuit!!! What the fuck am I supposed to do now??

(okay, calm down, Laur. It's not the end of the world) Or is it? You see, I'm a woman of substantial, well, substance. It's incredibly difficult to find my size in a store, even the "women of substance" stores. So I ordered some swimsuits online. I ordered two from Jessica London and one from Lane Bryant. Jessica London sent me one (fortunately the cuter of the two) and had to cancel the other suit as it was no longer available. But at least they sent me an email. They communicated with me. Lane Bryant? Not so much. First of all, no email was sent regarding shipping of my order. I had to go onto the website to find my order status. Then, and even now, my order status reads "order processing" even though UPS tracking claimed it was on the truck ready for deliver as of 6am yesterday. It was not delivered yesterday. I paid an extra $20 for "superfast" shipping and six days is not super fast in my book. I went online to track the package today and according to the UPS tracker, the order is "Missing. Merchandise not in carton. Carton has been discarded. Shipper will be notified". Screw the shipper! What about the person patiently waiting for her freakin' super fast delivery?? What about the woman leaving for Jamaica in three days who paid exorbitant prices to have a barely cute swimsuit sent overnight and now will have to be bare-assed in the Caribbean? What are you going to do about that, Brown?
Lane Bryant said they'd be happy to reorder this item for me and have it sent immediately, but I declined. I'm going to have to scour the Los Angeles landscape and try in vain to find a plus sized swimsuit in the land of Skinny Ass Beyotches. Crap!

On a happier note, the gal who will be covering for me is super sweet and efficient, so I don't have to worry about the place falling apart. But seriously, three rum drinks into the week do you think I'll care?