Disclaimer: This took me a few days to write because of our “busy schedule” (read: because of alcohol) and so the tenses are fucked up and I don’t really have the energy to make it all right. I’m sorry ahead of time if I seem confusing but hell, you should be used to it by now. Just glad to be back!!
I’m covered in mosquito bites – from back in Texas, mind you – and since I’m a Picker, now I’m all oozing like a leper, so that plus the Wormy Kitty bites and the two huge bruises from my scratching the aforementioned mosquito bites, I look like a crack addict. And I’m still limping, so I’ll bet the other guests are glancing discreetly at my feet to see if I shoot up between my toes.
The non-BF makes me sit at another table when we dine.
When I am at the beach, I am like a small child, or a cat, perhaps. I’ll go back to the room with pockets full of rocks as “presents” for the non-BF. Today I picked up 23. If we stay much longer, I’ll need another carry-on for all the fucking shit I find on the beach.
This is a First World Problem, I know, so feel free to hate me, but damn it, someone bought the necklace that was in the case that I had to stop and look at every time we passed it. I fucking waited too late to get that shit. This is why I don’t wait for sales and also why I have no money because I usually never wait. I’m always worried that what I want won’t be there if I hesitate. Yep, I play into marketers’ and advertisers’ wet dreams. I’m the poster child for “instant gratification takes too long!”
I am complaining about this to the non-BF’s friend after he spit out his drink on the chips and I got about mid-sentence and realized it was not even worth finishing the bitch session. Here I am at this gorgeous hotel on a beach in Costa Rica and I’m worried about a fucking necklace? Yes, why yes I am! Give up on me now – everyone else has. More rum drinks for everyone!
[Doesn't really matter, either, since we were planning on going into town the following day to go shopping so maybe I'll find one there!]
We went on a crocodile (cocodrilo) tour today and saw like six crocs and a bunch of birds.
Me to the guide: How do you say “tour” in Spanish? Guide: Tour. Me: What a fucking letdown.
I was content to make do with the six crocs and call it a day, but then I suggested we hit the national park since the non-BF might not make it there before we leave. Three hours later, really needing to piss like a racehorse and sorta hungry on top of all of that, I wake up in the tour van with a backache and a full bladder, asking in a trying-not-to-be-whiny voice, When the fuck are we going to get there???
[It was MY idea, mind you. I just didn't think it through.]
They decide to stop at this restaurant so I can pee, and I tell them I should just stay there while they hike. After much arguing with the guide (not the non-BF, he was happy to leave my ass there), they depart and I sidle up to the bar to order a fizzy gin drink. An hour later, I’m getting Spanish lessons from three hot Costa Rican boys and I’m not at all worried at how long the non-BF takes in the national park. If I had teachers like this in high school, I just may have fucking passed Spanish!
The non-BF, the guide and the driver all show up again and we eat and head back to the hotel. I swear, I would be big as a house if I lived here – the food is so good. Plus they seem to like to fix cocktails all the time. I’m wondering how anyone gets anything done in this country.
The non-BF and I have a couples massage scheduled for earlier today (“Aw, how sweet!”? Not really, it’s just timing…we don’t do that romantic bullshit. Romance to us is fart jokes and seeing who can make the other person laugh first). We get done and they lead us into a room with floor to ceiling windows and tell us to sit down. Then they bring “fruits and juices.” By the way, we got “fruits and juices” almost everywhere we went during this trip. So I am inhaling the mango and watermelon pieces and the non-BF tells me how funny it was that I started snoring on the table. Me, having fallen asleep during the massage, I don’t really know if I snored or not, so I countered with, “Well, at least it wasn’t like 2:30 this morning when you made enough noise to wake the dead and kill a few zombies while you were at it.”
He gave me a glare. I just said, “Thar she blows!” and started laughing uncontrollably. Then I choked on my fruits and juices.
The non-BF: That’s God punishing you for being mean.
I accidentally “took” the Book of Mormon and the Spanish New Testament they left in our drawer in the hotel room. The non-BF says I am so going to hell for that.
I say that God wants me to learn Spanish, so what better way to start? Oh, and I don’t think God has a reason for the Book of Mormon. He is still trying to figure that one out.
It seems I’ve Gallo Pinto’d and Cacique’d my way from a size four to a size six, so guess who gets to go on a fucking diet right when everyone else gets to eat holiday food? Me. Welcome to the shittiness that is my life for all of November.
It was pretty casual at the hotel but I think my purple apple themed Paul Frank boxer shorts and my Rick-Rolled t-shirt don’t really count for Resort Wear.
Missed being on U.S. soil. Glad to be back. Also glad to have decent internet service. Dreading my cell phone bill, though. I may have to sell off a kidney to pay it.