Follow by Email

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Chapter 22, or 21/31/35 and no, those are not my measurements...the 5th and final part

                    **Be sure to read parts 1-4 first**

               Polite Aussie, Irish guy and Kinda Hot Aussie congratulated us on making it in the picture.  They were all going to dinner and said that we should probably hang back but they would meet up with us after.  We were okay with that; we had already exceeded our expectations for the day.  Rochelle and Jade stayed for dinner and we had cake for Rochelle’s birthday, but they decided not to wait for the Aussies to get back.   
            My family had gone out to dinner so it was just me and my laptop on the lanai.  It was a gorgeous, romantic night.  All the tiki torches were lit because it was after sunset and there was barely a breeze.  If it were a movie, Kinda Hot Aussie would show up and we would kiss. 
            I was watching for the Aussies to come back while trying not to look like I was watching, and as it happens, one of the times I wasn’t watching, I heard my name.  It was Kinda Hot Aussie.  I guess every once in a while, movie-like things happen.  He took a seat on the low wall outside the villa. 
            I walked up to him as sexily as I could (which probably looked more like regular walking and less like slow motion walking with a fan blowing my hair) and casually said, “Hi.  How was dinner?” 
            He said, “It was great. What have you girls been doing?”  I told him about dinner and cake for Rochelle’s birthday and that they left.  He said, “That’s too bad, Polite Aussie was pretty taken with Jade.” 
            I said, “Most guys are.” 
            He said, “I think she’s bad news for him.  She seems like a bad girl.  Are you a bad girl?” 
            I said, “Nah, I’m a good girl.” 
            He put his hand on my hip and pulled me towards him and said, “Well then, come over here and do something bad.”  Pretty cheesy, but you have to understand, everything he says is in an Australian accent!  He could’ve said, “I like to fart through a tube” and I would've gushed a little.
            While we were kissing, my family came back from dinner.  Kinda Hot Aussie suggested we go for a walk on the beach.  I told the fam where I was going and walked with him to the beach.  Our version of going for a walk was finding a secluded place on the beach and making out.  There is nothing like having sweet nothings whispered in your ear in an Australian accent.  And I’ll tell you something ladies, what they say about Australian men is true.  Even if we had condoms I don’t think I could’ve had sex with him.  He would’ve ripped me in half.  Plus, I’ve done some slutty stuff, but sleeping with a random guy the day after sleeping with another random guy is not yet on my list.
            When we decided we had to stop, he walked me back to my villa and got my email address.  I thought that was sweet even though we both knew we weren’t going to become pen pals. 
            I have since decided that I want my next husband to be from Australia.  Or New Zealand.  Or England.  So if you know anyone, set me up, I’m probably still single.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Chapter 22, or 21/31/35 and no, those are not my measurements...part 4 of 5

                  **Be sure to read parts 1-3 first**

            We put on our dresses and fluffed our hair and prepared some cocktails.  The wedding was happening right outside the villa so we could see when people were arriving.  Even though we had been invited we didn’t know what to do.  Should we stand in the background?  Should we sit with the wedding guests?  We waited until we saw the familiar Aussies.  They greeted us and offered us beer, which we accepted.  Polite Aussie and the Irish guy hadn’t met the girls yet so we did introductions and then they went to greet more of the real wedding guests.  (Oh, and I found out the name of Kinda Hot Aussie and that he was 35.)  We still weren’t sure what to do with ourselves so we stood in the background and had my mom take pictures of us to document the occasion.
            The ceremony started and finished and we were still standing in the background giggling like idiots not knowing what to do when we saw Polite Aussie, Kinda Hot Aussie and the Irish guy wave at us and gesture to join them.  We walked towards the crowd of real wedding guests and were greeted by a man with a tray full of champagne glasses.  It would’ve been rude not to accept, right?  We took a few more pictures of ourselves drinking champagne and pretending to be wedding guests when we noticed that the real wedding guests were lining up to receive leis from the bride and groom. 
            We asked Polite Aussie and the Irish guy, “Should we get in line?” 
            They said, “Absolutely, go shake their hands and wish them well.” 
            Jade had disappeared so Rochelle and I got in line.  We waited until we noticed that everyone else either was in line or had been in line, so as not to take a lei from an actual friend or family member.  When we got to the front of the line the groom laughed and said, “Oh my gosh, you!” then turned to his bride and said, “This is the girl from the cricket game.”  She smiled and laughed too, and they gave us both hugs and leis.

                                 yep, I am totally supposed to be here.

           Jade reappeared and we were telling her the story behind our leis when an older woman approached us, pointed to an older man and asked if we would take a picture with him.  Of course, we said yes.  He was probably about 72, but that didn’t stop him from trying to goose each of us.  I don’t know if the woman taking the picture was his wife or relative or friend, but she was getting a huge kick out of posing us with the Old Aussie.  I think he was getting a kick out of it too, if you know what I mean.
            The next thing that happened was quite possibly my favorite part.  The photographers started gathering everyone together for a group picture.  We stood back as they placed everyone so they would all fit in the shot.  Then Polite Aussie, Irish guy and Kinda Hot Aussie all called to us to join them.  Old Aussie gestured for us to stand by him.  He got down on one knee and Jade sat on it and Rochelle and I stood behind them.  Then, click, we are in the picture!  For the rest of their lives when they look at their group wedding photo there will be three American girls that they may or may not remember on the left side of the picture all up on somebody’s grandpa.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Chapter 22, or 21/31/35 and no, those are not my measurements...part 3 of 5

               **Be sure to read part 1 & 2 first**

           The highlight of the trip was the part I like to call “Crashing the Aussie Wedding”.  A couple days after we arrived we noticed a large group of men playing some foreign sport.  We decided it was Cricket because my sister said there was a group of Australians staying at the villas for a wedding.  My Aunt said, “Jen, you should go over there and talk to them.  Ask them what they’re playing.  Get yourself an Aussie!”  Then she straightened my dress, fluffed my hair, handed me a Mai Tai and sent me off while my Uncle started singing, “She’s going oooutbaaack tonight!”
            I walked towards them casually and asked the nearest guy, “So, what is this game?” and gestured towards the players (I totally knew what game it was).  In an Australian accent (I was going to say a sexy Australian accent, but realized that would be redundant) he said, “It’s Cricket.” 
            At that moment a few other guys noticed me and one said, “Come on over and play!” 
            I said, “Can I play in a dress?” 
            The guy said, “No, you’ll have to take it off!” 
            I laughed adorably and they told me to come on over.  When I joined them, I realized they were all a bunch of fifty-yard fake outs.  Not a hot one among them.  Well, maybe that one guy over there was kind of hot but he was the only one not talking to me.
            A very Polite Aussie offered me a drink, then introduced me to everyone and explained who they were (the groom to be, his brother, their cousin, etc.), I noticed there were no women around. 
            I asked Polite Aussie, “Where are the women?” 
            He said, “Women aren’t allowed to play Cricket.  It’s a man’s game.” 
            I said, “But you invited me to play.” 
            And he said, “That was just to get you over here.” 
            Well played, Aussie.  Well played.
            I don’t know how many games of Cricket they played or if it was just one really long one, but I had been there for a long time when Polite Aussie and his Irish friend told me I should come to the wedding the next day.  I wasn’t sure if they were serious but I said, “Maybe I will!”
            The next day, Rochelle decided to continue her birthday celebration at Turtle Bay.  Her friend Jade came too, and we spent most of the afternoon laying by the pool or floating in it.  (Yes, I prefer the pool to the beach because I don’t like to get sand in my crevices.)  After I was sufficiently browned I left the girls at the pool to take a shower and wash my hair.  (I wanted to be beautified for the wedding.)  Before I left, I noticed one of the Aussies standing on his balcony.  It was the kind of hot one that had not talked to me yesterday.  I waved and said hello and introduced him to Rochelle and Jade and then I went inside.  A little while later they came in and told me he had invited them to the wedding, too.  Oh, we were going to have so much fun!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Chapter 22, or 21/31/35 and no, those are not my measurements...part 2 of 5

                             **Be sure to read part 1 first**

           My friend Rochelle lives in Waikiki.  I called her a couple of days before my trip to tell her I was going to be on her Island and found out she was getting divorced.  And it was her birthday.  I knew we were going to have to hang out.
            We went to this Irish pub called Kelley O’Neil’s - a beer drinking, tequila shooting, Irish band playing, kick ass pub.  We danced, we made friends, and I got so many free drinks for Rochelle it was stupid.  I would go up to a guy or a group of guys and say, “Excuse me, it’s my friend’s birthday and she’s getting divorced.  Don’t you think that merits a drink?”  It got her beers and shots, and it got me a few shots too. 
            I think we had talked to just about everyone in the pub and then we came across a new group.  There were three of them and they bought us a round of Red Headed Sluts.  I don’t actually like those because of the Jager, but I had red hair and they thought it was appropriate and it’s hard to argue with a free shot.
            One of the guys was especially attractive and actually started talking to me.  His name was Attractive Stranger, he was 31 and he was from Pennsylvania.  We talked for a little while, I don’t remember what about and then he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on the beach with him.  I said, “I don’t even know you, you could be a murderer.”  But then he laughed and kissed me and told me I was beautiful so naturally, I couldn’t resist. 
            One of Rochelle’s girlfriends had come to join us so I asked them if I should go for a walk on the beach with this guy I just met.  They said definitely, and Rochelle pulled two condoms out of her purse and put them in my bra.  I said, “I don’t need those, I’m not doing that!”  But I didn’t give them back (because I was going to do that, I just didn’t want Attractive Stranger to know).
            We walked to the beach and down to the sand and started kissing.  He took off his shirt and laid it on the sand so I had something to sit on.  What a gentleman, right?  Then I fulfilled my lifelong fantasy and boned on the beach.  Of course, the person in my fantasy wasn’t necessarily a stranger, but we take what we can get.
            Attractive Stranger carried my shoes for me on our walk back from the beach and I called Rochelle.  I told her where to meet us, she called a cab, and we all headed back to her place.  In the morning, before Attractive Stranger left, we had a quick good-bye shag; which meant that he was no longer a one night stand I had in Hawaii - he was an almost fling I had in Hawaii.  Much more respectable, no?

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Chapter 22, or 21/31/35 and no, those are not my measurements...part 1 of 5

            In May [2009], we (my sister, mom, dad, Uncle, Aunt and me) went to Turtle Bay in Oahu for Mother’s Day.  The Ex’s birthday often fell on Mother’s Day so it was not easy to forget after ten years of combined celebrations.  I like to use birthdays and anniversaries of any kind as a reason to cocktail.  So, my sister and I got dressed up and went to The Bay Club.  It’s a really cute place with shuffleboard tables and a dance floor and most importantly, cocktails.  There wasn’t much happening, but good music was playing so we ordered some cocktails and did a little dancing, even though we were the only people on the dance floor.
            After a few songs we went back to the bar to order another round and a big group of young guys walked in.  Naturally, they crowded around us.  They were marines who were leaving in two days for boot camp.  I was really hoping one of them would say, “I ship out tomorrow so we better make tonight count,” but I think they might have been too young to know that cliché.  Some of them weren’t even old enough to drink.  One of them starting flirting with me and I asked him if he was even old enough to be in a bar. 
            “You look about 19,” I told him.  He said he was 21.  I said, “I don’t believe you, show me your ID.”  He showed it to me and he was, in fact, 21.  “Aw, you’re just a baby!” I said. 
            “I’m old enough to fight for my country,” he said.  Touché.
            The bar was closing so the guys invited us back to their villa.  I said to my 21 year old, “I don’t even know you, why would I go back to your villa?  I’m not stupid!”
Cut to:

            When we got back to their villa my 21 year old told me I had to see the view from the balcony and took me outside.  The view was quite nice, actually.  It was also quite nice when he stood behind me and started kissing my neck.  It’s like he knew I’m a sucker for kissing or something.  He kept telling me I was beautiful and asking if I knew how beautiful I was.  How could I not reward those comments with more kissing?  Then I would remember how young he was and stop and say, “No more kissing, you’re just a child!”  He even tried to take off his shirt and I said, “No topless kissing, you’re too young!”  I kept calling him a child and he kept calling me beautiful and we kept kissing. 
           Then, after yet another instance where I called him a child, my boob started vibrating.  (In lieu of carrying a purse, I had put my money, ID, Chap Stick and cell phone in my Big Booby Bra.  I don’t have Big Boobies so there’s room for other stuff in there.)  My phone was buzzing because I was receiving text messages.  From my mom.  I’m sitting there calling this 21 year old guy a child, yet I’m the 31 year old whose mommy is texting wondering where she is and when she’s coming home.
           I officially had to stop kissing now.  I felt like I was in High School and staying out past curfew.  We had to get out of there.  One of the guys walked us downstairs and I asked him what my 21 year old’s name was. 
            He said, “We call him Edwards.” 
            I said, “That sounds like a last name.” 
            He said, “We don’t know his first name.” 
            Okay then.  Good luck to Edwards and his friends, I wish you didn’t have to fight but I’m glad you're keeping us safe.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Get a whiff of this

I don't know what it is about grocery shopping that makes me lose my shit.  It's almost immediate.  Upon entering a grocery store my chest tightens, my pulse quickens, anxiety increases, tears start to pool behind my eyeballs, ready to go any second, and I feel like I'm going to pee, poo and vomit all at the same time.  It's basically just a race to get what I need and get the hell out of there.

As if all that isn't enough, today I got a whiff of what I call a Leg Open Button cologne.  You know, when you smell a cologne so delicious that your knees just start to part?  Acqua di Gio is one of my Leg Open Button colognes.  And Drakkar Noir, well, a quick sniff of that one and not only do my knees start to part but my underwear basically disintegrates.  Am I right, ladies?

I don't know what I got a whiff of today, but it got really hard to walk normal.  (It's not enough I have to strain my brain to figure out what food I need, now I have to concentrate on walking, too?)  I was afraid to look around and see who might be the wearer of this dangerlicious scent because a) he might have been attractive, and b) he might not have been.  If he had been attractive I probably would've started shaking like a chihuahua and sweating like a prom queen virgin.  Then I'd trip over my own shopping cart and/or bump into something.  If he had not been attractive, the whole sexy cologne image I've made up in my mind would've been ruined.  I figured it was a lose-lose situation, so I kept my eyes forward and focused on my goal: to get the hell out of there.

Friday, March 9, 2012

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, I'm off to work and it blows

As of today, I have officially been at my new "real job" for three weeks.  And let me just say,!  I don't have time to do anything!  I'm tired ALL the time*.  I've always been a fan of sleep, but now I'm a groupie.  It's all I want to do.  And then when I finally get to have my love affair with sleep, I dream I'm at work.

Because I need to afford to support myself and I'm not qualified for any job that pays me enough to support myself, I got a job as a receptionist in the mail room of a very large company so that I could work my way up to being able to support myself.  So, naturally, I keep dreaming that people are bringing mail to my bed.  (I sleep in my underwear, which adds a little extra excitement to the dreams because I keep flashing the mail delivery people...who aren't really there).

Add to my exhaustion the fact that I've come down with a severe case of writer's block.  I feel like Creativity is being held hostage by Obligation and Responsibility (the nasty little bitches).  At my last job I was practically begging for more hours.  I was only being scheduled on weekends, I had all the time in the world, and I felt like a useless waste of space.  Now, I work 40 whole hours a week.  I am a regular, acceptable, functioning member of society.  And I feel like a soulless robot.  I realize that now I have the same schedule as 90% of the population, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!  Remind me, again, what I hated so much about waiting tables?

*Last week at dance class, my instructor asked me how my new job was going.  I said, "It's exhausting!  I was not meant for full time!"  He said, "You're more of a trophy wife, aren't you, Jen?"  Wow, a great dancer and a genius.  I call that money well spent.