On Vacation

About a month ago, I had the good fortune to take a trip to Mexico.  I spent two weeks driving around Northern Mexico by myself.  Luckily my Spanish is good enough to make traveling alone in Mexico a possiblity.  So after a few days with my family, I was ready for some adventures and they were lurking just around the corner.  I got into a perfectly preserved colonial town called Alamos.  It was the kind of town that you see on travel shows; the people are friendly, the streets are easy to navigate, there's something great to look at on every street and the citizens happily mingle with tourists.  

So in this beautiful setting, I found myself desperately looking for someplace to hide from the scorching heat.  I had already talked to the cute tourism information guy for longer than I wanted to but his office was air conditioned and there was cold water.  And I couldn't drink any more beer in the park- I looked like a degenerate alcoholic.  A small note about drinking in Mexico and most of Latin America.  Once you get out of the areas that cater to drunk Americans, you don't see women drinking on the street or in bars.  The only kind of women that are in bars are the kind you pay for.  So in my quest to find someplace away from the sun - it was 106 degrees-I walked past a bar with  music coming out of it.  Since I know I couldn't look any worse than I did drinking beer in the park, I entered the bar.

As I walked in, I was greeted by a sea of men wearing cowboy hats.  It felt like everyone looked up at once when I walked in.  And everyone watched me walk over to the bar and order a drink. As I sat at a table, I realized I'd walked into the Mexican equivalent of "Bob's Country Bunker" from the original Blues Brothers movie.  They had the requisite taxidermy animals on the walls, people spitting on the floor and a crappy band playing Banda music.  Most of the crowd was drunk and this place only served beer.  It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon!   Clearly some of these people had tequila for breakfast.  There were two other women in the bar- one I'm positive had been a man before and the other one was really fat and not wearing enough clothes to cover her gut or varicose veins.  

As I sat by myself drinking a beer, every drunk guy in the place felt like the thing to do was come by and talk to me.  It was like being on the worse dating game ever.  Thankfully some old guy next to me bought me another drink and didn't try to talk to me.  While sitting there, I decided to check out the band.  As I looked at the band, I noticed that the bass player was very cute.  I immediately decided to stick around until the band took a break so I could talk to the bass player.  I'm on vacation, shouldn't I be throwing myself at some two-bit musician?

So the band goes on a break and I walk up to the bass player and introduce myself.  He looks young but he's cute, so I'm over it.  We talk a little bit and he tells me to come back around 6pm when the band will be done.  So I went back to my hotel to take a shower and a nap.  I wake up from my nap at 7:30 and decide that hooking up with the bass player wasn't meant to be.  So I get dressed and go out to get two tacos and a beer- the perfect Mexican meal.  While I'm looking for my tacos, I hear someone call my name. It's the bass player.  

He invites me to join him and his friend.  They're driving out to a look out point in the city. Against my better judgement, I get in the mini-van with them.  About five minutes into the ride, I start thinking about how this is clearly the worst decision I've ever made and I will probably not make it out of this situation.  But the bass player is kind of drunk and keeping trying to make out with me.  He tells his friend to take us back to my hotel.  

We go back to my hotel room and the bass player proceeds to throw himself at me.  I ask him how old he is.  He says 20.  I ask him if he knows how old I am, he's say 40.  I'm quick to point out I'm not 40.  I ask him again how old he is, he says 25.  I figure he's probably 20 but he's already in my room, so I say fuck it.  He's fighting me about using a condom.  He says he doesn't have anything and I say me neither but I don't know what you've been doing up until this point. But I know what I've been doing up until that point and it's in everyone's best interest to use condoms.  We then proceed to have the most unsatisfying, stupid, uninspired sex ever.  In the middle of it, I start thinking that if I'd gotten my two tacos, I would be more satisfied.  Now I'm trying to find the words to tell him to finish up and get out.  I can't tell him he sucks at this or that I want to get tacos instead of having sex with him.  

He finally finishes up and I immediately start getting dressed.  While we're having awkward post sex conversation, the bass player tells me that he's 19 years old.  I kind of freak out.  This kid is half my age!  And while he's "of age", I don't want to be having sex with teenagers.  So while I'm having a mini freak out, the bass player is still talking.  I have no idea what he's saying because all I can think is: I should have gotten those tacos and when is he leaving?  I tell him he has to leave.  I walk him out of the hotel and he asks me when will he see me again.  What?!  I don't want that crappy sex again.  I tell him probably never-I'm leaving town the next day.  He leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  And then whispers into my ear- I'm really only 18!

I go back to my room to try and shake off what I'd just heard.  And then it hits me, that bass player was probably only 17 years old.  Damn!  I didn't want to go on vacation and become a child molester.  So now I require ID every time I meet someone who looks young.    

The Question of Farts

This past weekend I found myself in a situation that that I'm sure has come up for more women then we'd like to admit. I needed to fart and didn't feel like I could wouldn't it being noticed. Let me give you the background.

After a night of indulging in a leafy green substance with a male friend (Sam)-who much to my dismay was being a complete gentleman-I needed to spend the night at his house. While I enjoyed the comfort of his bed, he slept in a chair. I tried to get him to join me in the bed but when he didn't take my bait, I decided to let it go-I was too tired to put much energy into it. When the morning came, I woke up and realized I needed to fart. I knew I couldn't use the the bathroom; aside from being out of toilet paper, the bathroom opened into the bedroom. And if I fart in the bathroom, Sam will hear it; I haven't known him long enough for that to be ok. I thought about letting it out in the bed but I could tell that it was the kind of fart that was going to make a lot of noise. Not smelly, just noisy. Since he was in a chair just to my right, I made the only decision I could- I sucked that fart back into my body.

Now I had a stomach ache from sucking in my fart and I realized I needed to get out of there. But I didn't want to leave- I was holding out for breakfast. In our hazy state, Sam had said he would make bacon and eggs for breakfast. I love bacon, so I had to stick around. Also Sam had talked up his skills with eggs to the point where even a person who generally doesn't eat eggs (me) wanted them. I mean, there hadn't been any inappropriate touching- the least he could do was make me breakfast. So now I was in a battle between my belly and butt. Both needed attention but only one could win.

I continued to lie in the bed, wishing I could fart. I let out a little fart to see if that was an option but it made noise and I start to worry that Sam would hear me. Now many of friends told me that I should have farted and let that be the end of that. But I knew that if Sam farted in my presence, I'd think he was a pig. So there I was stuck sucking in my farts waiting for Sam to wake up and walk out of the room. How did my life come to this?

Eventually I got out of the bed and Sam woke up. We started talking about the breakfast that I'd been waiting for. Finally I thought, I'll get something I want. After a few minutes of talking, Sam remembers that we cooked all of the bacon the night before so breakfast is out of the question. What?! I stayed here all morning, holding in this fart for nothing! What the fuck! Now I have to get out of there and not look pissed. Luckily one of the positive side effects of overindulging, is that no one questions when you get up and say I gotta go.

So as I walked out into the bright daylight, I was still holding in my fart and trying not to be angry about not getting breakfast. Once I got in the car, I let that fart go and almost immediately was over not getting breakfast. The next time I talked to Sam, he invited me over for more leafy indulgence. I passed because I didn't want another night of no inappropriate touching and having to hold in my farts.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day and while that doesn't exact fit into the overall theme of this blog, I think it's worth talking about.  I come from a large family- I have five younger sisters (no brothers)-so birthdays and holidays are usually a big deal.  When it's a birthday or holiday that pertains to my parents, my sisters and I have stopped trying to do something nice.  Now we try to think of the most embarrassing/shameful/ridiculous experience possible.  

To give you some idea of what I'm talking about, here are some things we've done in the past: wearing old prom and bridemaids dresses to Thanksgiving dinner, wearing big stupid hats at a college graduation, bringing signs to restaurants, pretending to faint because we haven't started eating.  It's in this vein, that my sisters and I decided that the only way to celebrate Mother's day was to take our mother bowling.  Recognize that no one in my family bowls and going bowling is not anything that we would normally do.  But we liked that bowling was as close as you can get to doing nothing while still doing something.  We also liked that bowling was time controlled- 2 hours. 

After making this momentus decision, I had to tell my dad what our plans were.  I could tell that he was hoping for something nicer when he said "Bowling?  That's what you really want to do?".  I told him how fun it would be and why not.  Lucky for me, my father has given up on trying to make sense out of my decisions.  Since we were going for ridiculous, we decided to get the party pack and make a party out of it.  We brought cake, everyone wore shirts with funny sayings and I got my mom a bowling shirt.  And much to my surprise, we all had a very good time.  We had such a good time in fact, we're thinking of doing the same thing for father's day.  

The nice thing about my mom is that she just wanted to spend time with her daughters on mother's day.  All the while keeping hope alive that one of us will give her the gift she really wants on mother's day- a son-in-law. She doesn't like it when we call our dogs her "granddogs" or get drunk at family events but she still loves us anyway.  So I'd like to say happy mother's day mom!  Here's hoping that I can keep doing questionable things behind my mother's back. 

So here we are

I'd like to start by welcoming everyone who's wondered onto this site.  I hope this blog doesn't turn out to be another big waste of your time.  If you're still reading, then I  might have you hooked or you have a lot of free time.  I have a lot of free time, so I thought "why not start a blog".  Living in the SF bay area and being a fairly attractive woman,  I've been leading a pretty fun life. But sometimes a situation comes up that no one ever prepared me for.  Combine that with my willingness to make bad decisions and I have a wealth of knowledge to share.  

I'll share my stories of the different things that have happened and how I handled it.  Feel free to email me with questions, I love giving my opinion.  Thanks for reading.

The Wildhairgirl