Cheap Thrills To Be Found South Of The Border

When To Turn Down A Beer

If you are on a very crowded deck, on a Saturday night, singing along to a band, where girls walk around with buckets of beer, and you happen to be holding an empty coosie when some guy comes up behind you and first asks you your name and then asks if you would like a beer, and you say, yes....what do you owe the guy?

What if he looked like he swallowed a small child? He gave new meaning to beer gut is what I'm saying.

Well if you are me, you endure him tapping your ass for about 4 songs, which was enough time to finish the beer. And then you move, because you realize you can afford the $4 beer without a Small Child Eater slapping your ass.

What To Do When You Don't Know The Words

Karaoke finds me. And it is getting a little scary. I don't even like singing that much. But the world is strange these days. Dare I say, things are falling into place? No, I didn't say that. God, please take that off the record. Woe is me, hail mary, I'm deeply indebted to you.

This weekend at the beach, there were instruments and microphones and lots of music and a makeshift stage in the little friendly house out front. At 1 AM Mav and I took to the stage. All night long until 4AM.

So when you find yourself not remembering the words, because, oh, it's late and you should be in bed and not opening a miller lite at 3 AM, insert "mexican hat" EVERYWHERE in song.

Since you been gone
You got a mexican hat, yeah-yeah

I'm in over my head
With a mexican hat

Going downtown in a mexican hat

Girls just wanna have fun
Oh, girls in a mexican hat just wanna have fun

Don't wanna be an american idiot
(in a mexican hat)

You get the picture.

And so when someone asks you the next day how the Mexican Hat song goes, you can answer: "Like every song you have ever heard before!"

Overheard At The Beach

"What's your name?"
"Blair."
"Of Jo-Tootie-and-Natalie fame?"

"It's part of being a playa. There is bound to be some casualties."

"Mom!
Dolphins!
In the ocean!"

"I'm wearing your pillowcase."

"...the guy with the jean shorts."
"Jean shorts?! Where'd he get them?"

"I have a thing for brunettes."
"You have a "thing" for asians, latina, or redheads - blondes even. Nobody has a "thing" for brunettes."
"Damn right they can."
"Well lucky for you I'm a brunette then. And lucky for me I have a thing for pilots."

"I'll leave your ass here. Don't think I won't."
"I'm getting a dog then."

"What can I do for you?"
"Words every girl likes to hear."

"We'll take 2 miller lites."
"Bud lites?"
"No, miller lites."
"But bud lites are on special."
"2 miller lites, please."

In front of an 8-year old kid: "I want to be tied to the bedpost."
"That was an earmuff moment if ever I heard one."

"I live on Dagworthy."
"Of course you do."

"I don't like the Rudder. I only went there for you."
"Of course you did."

"From here on out, he is known as the Red Barron."
"Of Snoopy fame?"

On Love, Religion, And Water Bottles

I am pretty sure you never discuss religion on a first date. And I am pretty sure you never discuss religion after twenty-some beers. I'm also pretty sure you never discuss religion at 4 AM. As my dad used to say, "Nothing good happens at 4 AM. " So I am pretty sure if all of these scenarios coincide, nothing good can come of it. In fact, all hell might break loose. You know, if you believe in heaven and hell.

Now I'm not religous so this isn't a diatribe on religion. This is nothing more than a silly love story, with a little bit of violence - of the Pulp Fiction kind, not the gratuitious Terminator kind, mind you. So girls can bring their guys to watch this chick flick!

Mav and I went to the beach house last weekend and took along Dear Prudence - of plumber fame. (I'm sure she loves that endorsement!) The weekend was off to a great start Friday as we lunched on Nico Bolis and a couple pitchers. We also got some beach time where we got to watch Napolean and Pedro build a sand castle. Such love the kids gave each other. But that's another story. Oh, and the fact that they were "affiliated" with our house is a whole other story that can not be squeezed into my love story.

On Friday night we put our jeans and flip flops on and hit the bar. As I was doing my tour of all the bars (within the larger bar) looking for a coosie (how do you spell that by the way?), I had a moment. Aren't "they" always saying, "There she goes again. Boa falls in and out of love every weekend at the beach." And they would be right. But as I was standing shoulder to shoulder with a guy on my right, we both turned at the same time. Locked eyes. And of course I did my standard smooth move, I ran away. But I still recognize that as a "moment."

A couple minutes later Mav is informing me that "love of my life" is here. Here! I got excited for like 10 seconds until I remembered how that played out. What do they say? The opposite of love is indifference? Yeah, well I was indifferent.

"I don't care about him. But let's go say hi."

So we went over and said "hi." He and I exchanged a few pleasantries, "Do you still work at XYZ?" "You haven't moved back to CA yet?" "Did you lose my number?" ....And then I looked over to the person next to him and there He was. My first crush of the summer, "Love of my life's" best friend (hereinafter called BF), the guy I just had the moment with! Eek. I remember him from last year now. But why did I not see him until just now?

So we had another moment right there. It is like nobody else is around and you don't need to say anything and we probably stood like that for like 30 minutes. Or it could have been.

So I had to get away from them because the love was no longer there for "love of my life" but I couldn't go with the best friend? Or could I? He kept following me around. Everytime I turned he was handing me a beer. He pulls me in to dance with him. And that look in his eyes suckered me in. The moment.

So Friday night Mav, me, and Dear Prudence split up. We all had our romance to chase. Mav with the smallest "chip" of the bunch. Dear Prudence with her myriad of men, I seriously lost track which one she was with.

Needless to say, we met up with the boys Saturday afternoon for a little Jam. I was so over being uncomfortable with the dynamic. I purred as I talked to the BF that afternoon and listened to the band. Yep. 100% smitten. It's been awhile. I deserve it.

Now fast forward to Saturday night after a long day. It's just me, the BF, love of my life, Dear Prudence, Mav, and The Sleeper sitting around the patio table. Oh, and Lex Luther. Who nobody knew. He was just some guy walking by who joined the party. We are appraching 4 AM.

What do grown-up professionals who had been drinking all day at the beach do at 4 AM? Pop open their lap top? Take an Advil? GO TO SLEEP? No, they play Spin the Bottle and I Never. And drink more beer. After a few hours of this (which is actually now 4 AM) we carry the conversation to more lofty things like....religion.

This is where our love story reaches a crescendo. In hindsight, I should have interrupted the discourse with my lovely joke about the pizza.

But then we wouldn't have had this:

Mav: I am going to raise my kids Catholic because that is how I was raised and that is what I identify with.
The BF: Why do you identify with it?
Mav: I believe in the 10 Commandments.
Boa: [Quiety thinking of all the ways Mav has broken the 10 commandments over and over. But think better about calling hypocrite because I see her point.]
The BF: That's a civil code.
Boa: Ahh, he is cute and smart too!
Mav: That is what Christianity is based on!
[Voices are getting much louder. Much.]
The BF: Oh and I guess you are going to say that you believe the world was created in 10 days too!

From here on out the yelling is quite blurry. But it could have gone something like this:

Mav: I didn't say that.
BF: Yes you did.
Mav: Shut up.
BF: No you.
Mav: You're a poopeyhead.
The BF: Welll your a doo-doo.
Boa: [giggle, giggle]

And here is where Mav decides that actions will speak much larger than words. I like to call it performance art. Mav was acting out. Because she dramatically jumped on top of the table and whacked the BF upside the head with an empty water bottle. Just like that. Some people might sit in a tree for 10 days to GET THEIR POINT ACROSS. As if to say, "listen to me." But Mav dialed into the Bronx and raged.

And if the water bottle action wasn't enough, she came back to backhand all of the 40 beer cans sitting on the picnic table - backhanded them with one swoosh - right into the corner that the BF was now cowered in. And kicked him out of the house.

Mind you I am silent through all this. Frankly, didn't know what to do and seriously I am the daisy in the barrel of the gun. Can't we all just get along?

But The BF turned to me and wistfully said, "I'm so sorry Lara." I'd like to think there was a tear shed. And just like that I knew this was the end of this love story. We weren't going to make it after all. That water bottle would have always been in the way. In the name of God.

Dear Diary: You Had To Be There

Memorial Day Weekend 2005...The kickstart to a summer of Fun.
1 Beach House + 11 House Mates + 11 Cases of Beer + 4 Days + 4 IPods + 4 Bars Within Walking Distance = A GoshDarn Good Time

It is hard to describe it and I tend to shy away from giving a play-by-play diary recap of my weekend doings because, frankly, I'm sure you care. There were just so many hilarious moments of the weekend that tend to be of the you-had-to-be-there variety. Really. Case in point: At one point over the weekend, I was making eye contact with a cute boy. Mav and Goose were both talking to boys. I thought of something and shared it with Mav, Mav told Goose, and then the three of us were literally doubled-over with laughter. The something I said could only be funny to the three of us because it had to do with an inside joke we had working all weekend long that NEVER got old. Never. The inside joke came about kind of piecemail - everything that happened or that we encountered kind of contributed to it - and it stuck.

So now the evidence of the Not Funny. The cute boy took this as his opportunity - us sprawled together cracking up - to move in.

Cute Boy: What is so funny?
Me: {chuckle, snort, chuckle}
Cute Boy: You just made these girls crack up? What is so funny?
Me: I said - {chuckle, gasp} - I said - Wait! - You really won't think this is funny. Trust me.
Cute Boy: Try me.
Me: OK. So, I told my "mom" that I feel like the stepchild of the family and blah-blah-blah (Note to readers: trust me on this, not funny to you so edited to spare you.)
Cute Boy: ????
Me: And- (And he is not laughing.)
Cute Boy: Yeah. That wasn't funny. {Turns away, then turns back.} Oh, and tell that guy standing behind your friend to turn his collar down.
{Once Cute Boy turns and walks away into the darkness. His switch went out but he just set off another lightbulb of hilarity in my head. Time to share with the girls!}
Me (turning to Mav and Goose to tell them what he said because if only he knew how funny that was because he just touched on another inside joke): He said...
Me, Mav, and Goose: {Doubled-over yet again in laughter while the Guy With The Collar Up is still standing behind Mav}

Once Cute Boy became a contributor. And this is really how the weekend went. Funny on the inside, but probably not funny on the outside. The Unfunny will be our Funny. You may just shrug your shoulders and walk away too. But the Guy With The Collar Up Who Keeps Standing Behind Mav is gone now, so let's go with this...

The Car Drive Down, Friday. With my old friend, Mav, and my new friend, Goose. Just three girls zipping east in a shiny, pretty car, packed to the floorboard and ceiling, trunk to front seat, in beach towels, coolers of beers, beach chairs, and stereo equipment, while listening to Mav's Playlist in which she streamed the best party tunes a girl could want. The weekend was off to a good start. I love these gals.

The Bay Bridge. Poor Goose can not drive over the Bay Bridge. She is embarrassed about this but I don't think she should be. I am not afraid of heights and I find the Bay Bridge terrifying. My dad would never drive over it, so I understand it. Mav drove then. Goose in the backseat with a pillow over her face: "Is it over yet?" Me and Mav in the calming voice, "Almost over, honey. Hang in there." Until...the car accident that we just missed involving a PT Cruiser and a golf cart. Yes, a golf cart. How fast do those things go? So we were temporarily held up at the top of the bridge. We eventually made it over and Goose survived. We were ready for the Double Arches now.

The KMart KeyMaker, The KMart Gift Card, And The KMart Bathing Suit. Two trips to the Big K over the weekend. One to get keys made by someone who may or may not have worked there and another to return said keys. Because they DIDN'T WORK. So the return amounted in a lovely $44.80 gift card to which Goose replied to the Customer Service rep in her sweetest, "motherly" voice, "Oh, honey, I'm not coming back here." The girl has never been in a KMart before. Do they even have any in DC? Also in KMart, Mav was able to score a "delightful", shimmery, flourescent, turn-the-lights-down, day-glo, glistening and blinding and - you get the picture - swimsuit because she packed for the BEACH and went to the BEACH with NO SWIMSUIT. In the store, we were like, "Oh, that's cute, that'll do." On the beach the next day, we were like, "Damn, what were you thinking buying that thing? Who told you that looked cute?" Friends. That red bathing suit then became a House fashion show staple, modeled by Goose over her lovely Soccor Mom sweathsirt.

The Crazy Old Lady Who Lives Out Back With The Big Beautiful House That Semi-Blocks Our View. She's crazy. Bipolar maybe. Or drunk. Or sad. Crazy Old Lady likes to come out back and yell up at our deck while it is still light out about how we need to get to the bars and she will call the cops on us because our voices are too loud and our laughs are too much. The next day she was all sunshine in her conversation with us, asking how our night was. It was like the movie Groundhog Day because we witnessed the same conversation and the same Crazy every night.

Backyard Entertainment. Some in the house got to witness Crazy Old Lady's Late Night Drunken Gentleman Caller banging on her door, "Leett mmee iinn!! I wwoonnn'ttt ddiissaappppooiinntt youuuu!" That plea was repeated all weekend long. It never got old.

A Dog Named Fu Manchu AKA Fu. Crazy Old Lady's dog. We have photo evidence of the Crazy Old Lady screaming up at our balcony in her mumu and poor little Fu looking the other way as if to say, "Who is this Crazy Old Lady? I don't know her. Send help." Goose promises to kidnap Fu by the end of summer and have Fu drive over the Bay Bridge for her because he the Little Dog AKA Fu.

A Game Called Dance Moves. That never got old either. It involved lot of butt-shaking and The Pants Dance and The Ear Muffs. And lots of forgetting of who's move was whose.

House Underwear. Emblazoned with the logo, "Open 24 Hours." The best 99 cents I ever spent. Worn over clothing by many people in the house. Mav even wore them out in public under the Red KMart Bathing Suit and over gray yoga pants. Fashion Maverick, that girl.

The Photo Ops. Many, many photos of the sleeping posing with various objects, including lit cigarettes, stacks and stacks of beer bottles, Soy Chips bags, hats, and the blow-up swordfish that turned into the Where's Waldo of the weekend because he showed up in many pictures. His home is now above the mantel because he was hooked and blown up for our very own house. It's a 20-pounder, I tell ya!

Trashy Beach Reading. Including an article from Cosmo about the "new" "positions" you just must try. Notably one involving a Krispy Creme donut. Donut on a stick, anyone? And one involving saran wrap and humming. I'm guessing they don't mean humming something like, "Cuts Like A Knife" or "The First Cut Is The Deepest." Others involved a lot of right to left, no left to left to right, leg to knee to shoulder, then flip and then stand at a 35 degree angle. And don't breathe. You would need cue cards to follow along.

Random Characters. Remember the "it's Brad Pitt in disguise" story that ran about a year ago where it was supposedly him with the long hair, hat, straggly beard in cognito? Well That Guy was at the beach. Except he really wasn't That Guy. There was also the guy in the British flag skivvies, strutting his stuff, not shy in the least. Also, the Big Burly Branded Black Guy who told Goose he would do her all night long any way she wanted. And, the Guy With The Cracked Head, who took a dive over the ledge into the water and cracked his head open on the rocks. Owww.

Words Of The Day. It's "delightful." "What a delight it is to still smell your scent on my clothes." "Outstanding." "He's a Fu." "Holla(back)." And finally, "I hate people."

Hooch, My Weekend Boyfriend. {Sigh} Good kisser. I think he was cute. Doctor. Phone number demander. He will never call.

Road Rage On The Car Ride Home. The crazy family of four that would not let us in at a merge, the father grimacing all stone-faced shaking his fist in the air, the two daughters in the backseat flicking us off, and the mother all Mrs. Cleaver there-there-family about it. So we took photos.

Bed At 8:00 On Monday Night.

See? Wish you were there.