Forgive Me Father!

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The game of bridge carried on until the wee hours last night so I never got to finish off my story from the first night. As I was saying, I was having breakfast the first day, noticing all the old folks that were in the hotel too, when I noticed a hot chick amongst the sea of grey hair. And I noticed that she noticed me too. So I noticed her back. And also noticed her boyfriend staring me out of it, how’s it going, nice tacos for breakfast, huh. So I let it go, although I did think they didn’t really seem to act like a couple, kind of looked like they might actually be related. He was a beast though, so I held back with all my noticing.

It was the same that day by the pool. Myself, Andy and Colin were sitting only a few seats away from them. They weren’t really talking to each other, she looked bored, he looked boring, I was starting to think they were just brother and sister, here on holiday together, thats it. Plus she was hot as funk, dark, Mediterranean looking, nay too shabby in a bikini, the more watery vodka I had the more I started to think they definitely weren’t going out with each other.

That night the hotel had some club lined up for cheap if you wanted to go along, all you can drink place. Andy was feeling sick, Colin had sun stroke, so I decided I’d go along on my own, cant waste my nights in the hotel room. We get to the club, which I had great hopes for, seeing as it was called Zoo, but sweet lord, it was horrendous. Im pretty sure Cher was playing as I walked in the door. The club was like FX in Cork, but Mexican style. There was a cage in the middle of the dance floor too, Surfers style. MTV would not be showing up here tonight for a Spring Break Special.

I’m mingling with the hotel heads at the bar, checking to see if Sue and Jim came or stayed behind playing cards, oh great my German buddies are here too, when this Canadian guy comes up to me fairly twisted. He’s got his bandana nicely tied up, his pink Speedo sunglasses on top of his head, and he’s freddie funked drunk. “Are you Irish, eh?” – I am boss – “I was just talking to another English person over there, we should all do shots, eh” – Are you Canadian? I was just talking to another American person over there, shots sound good though… off we go to the shots bar. The little Canuck starts to pound back the tequila, it was impressive enough. After a few, I’m looking for a breather and wander off for a stroll. 

With the tequilas giving me a merry spring in my step, I see that the hot chick is here, and, let me check, no sign of her brother, wuu duu. I head over to order a drink next to her at the other bar. Small talk on “Yeah, I love this Cher song too, its great they play it so much”. It turns out she’s from Hollywood, and she was not a fan of the club either, we were bonding already “God, I miss Hollywood, don’t you miss it, I miss the sign a lot, this club is crap, yeah they’re waaay better in Hollywood.” So, its going well, ha, when I remember the brother/boyfriend scenario. I casually ask her if her boyfriend is not out tonight. “John? Thats not my boyfriend, he’s back in the hotel though, he’s sick.” Poor John must’ve picked up the same bug as Andy. I knew he was her brother! The Canadian swans over with a round of shots, perfect time to celebrate, the club is picking up!

The night progresses, the Canadian is feeding me shots, and I end up in the cage doing my “Anyone see Timmy the rabbit?” dance. It’s a hard dance to resist really, she wasn’t to blame, it was the lure of the moves. So the two of us get a cab back to the hotel, anyone up for some watery vodka, sprung broke isn’t so bad after all! Alas, it was not to be. She asks me the time. 4.30. What month is it? March, I think. Time? Month? Oh, right, you were telling me something, not asking me. Oh right. Thats great. Balls. She gives me her number, tells me she’s checking out in the morning, give her a call when I’m back up in Hollywood. I surely will, good night to you.

Not a bad night, feeling dodge after all the tequila, pity that chick was leaving today but at least there is Hollywood. I force myself up for breakfast before the 11.30 cut off time. I am goosed, hungover, sun is blinding, head down, sunglasses on, I’ll get some breakfast and then back to sleep. I’m making some coffee for myself at the buffet, when I notice Hollywood girl and her brother walking along by the pool, the bellboy behind them with their bags, they must only be checking out now. Kind of weird that I see they’re holding hands, maybe he’s just making sure she doesn’t fall into the pool. And now they’re kind of walking with their hands around each other waists. Interesting. So this morning, they do not look like brother and sister. They seem like a couple. But she said he wasn’t her boyfriend. Oh Jesus.

I have moved onto making toast at this stage, noticing all this, putting two and two together, finally, and getting a bit freaked. She doesn’t come into the restaurant, goes on with the bellboy. Oh great, in he comes, heads to the buffet, straight in my direction. Did I mention he’s a beast? Oh Jesus. Is Jim around, I might need back-up. So, I’m at the toaster, and he’s now getting coffee next to me. I glance at his left hand quickly just to make sure, and yes, of course he is, he’s wearing a wedding ring. Oh Jesus. He hasn’t swung for me, yet, so I’m presuming he doesn’t know about his WIFE being unable to resist my dance moves the night before. Oh Jesus. At this stage I want to scream at the toaster to hurry the funk up and TOAST THE STALE BREAD FASTER!!!!! But I stay cool, he leaves before the toaster pops, brings two coffees out to the reception. One for him, one for the missus. She takes the coffee, kisses him on the lips, maybe they’re just an affectionate brother and sister? Thank Joseph they’re checking out there and then, could’ve been awkward and detrimental to my health if they hung around much longer.

As hot and all as she was, it looks like I shall have to break my promise and won’t be calling her when I get back to Hollywood. Probably not. I might text just to make sure she got home okay, ha. I just hope it wasn’t their honeymoon. I’ll never be ordained at this rate. Forgive me Father!!!

Song of the day is this mighty song with an apt song title for me…I Need A Life by Born Ruffians

Here’s a cool remix of the same song too, sounds way different… I Need A Life (Four Tet Remix) by Born Ruffians…

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Sprung Broke

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I was getting withdrawal symptoms not updating the blog, plus there have been too many incidents going on, so I need to jot them down. If you’re looking forward to hearing about how unbelievable Spring Break is, with the thousands of hot women, free booze flowing, crazy parties, savage clubs, time of your life and all that, I apologise in advance. If you want to hear about OAP’s, German dudes in thongs (stereotype on!), not so all-inclusive, and married/incestuous women, read on!

This is my second time flying to Mexico, and both times I clapped like an ape when I landed. This first time flying to Cancun, I noticed the pilot was actually in the bathroom when the plane was descending and close to landing. With a dodgy hop, skip and a jump, the plane landed, just about, so I presume there were two pilots but still dodge. I joined in with the over-enthusiastic Yanks who were hooting and hollering that the plane had landed.

This time around, I did a one handed clap to myself as I could get off the plane. I’d say about 5 minutes into the flight, I detected that the guy next to me had to have just s**ted himself. The smell was horrendous. Either he did, or I did without knowing, the smell was that bad. Then again, if it was me, I wouldn’t really be divulging it on the blog. He was an older, gruff looking Mexican, and didn’t seem to care or notice. Even though I was happy with my seat – aisle on the emergency row, awful pains in the legs, any chance? -I had to move. So I scoured the plane for an available seat, its full to the brim, happy days. In the end I had to go down the back of the plane for the flight and hang around by the toilets. The stewardess gave me her seat for parts, parts I spent sitting in the toilet (funnily enough I wrote my first stand-up pieces when in the toilet), but mainly I was just hanging around the back of the plane. Small plane too so I could more or less hear what person did what in the toilet, it was great. The smell was better down there at least. It was a mighty start to my priest get-away!

My first morning at breakfast was when I kind of thought I picked the wrong place to stay. Firstly, the hotel was split in two, grand and club. Grand was nicer, more restaurants, bars etc, the better place to stay. Club was cheaper, it’ll be grand, club on! So I’m eating some dodgy buffet food in the club section, waiting for the hoards of college girls to trundle in for breakfast, some dude to give me a beer bong and the music to blare up, my Spring Break would be under way. Just like they do on MTV. And here they come, hoards and hoards of old people, mixed with people wearing Muubuu’s, Homer Simpson fat camp style. The job. Sprung Broke all the way. Felt more like Radio 1. There were a splattering of hot women at breakfast, but mostly couples, or are they brother and sister, I’ll come back to that.

I moseyed way up to the pool after breakfast, at least it was roasting, the chicks will all be up here, come on the beer bong! The pool was cool enough, bar in the middle, younger crowd up there, might not be too bad. It was then when I found out that all-inclusive does not include water. Or the majority of drinks one would probably drink. One beer, one watery vodka, one dodgy mixer (there were more but that was my menu). The pool was full to the brim with apes as well. They were either Tom Cruise wannabes, or Bon Jovi lovers. The Tom Cruise dudes were all small, pumped up, finger pointing, gun motioning, high fiving, cringe worthy, rooting tooting apes, with none of his good movie lines. The Bon Jovi dudes were bandana’d up to the max, with their florescent, Speedo, too-tight-for-their-heads sunglasses. And the women, who weren’t part of couples-ville, were… sound looking. The music was pumping, but sweet lord, it was horrific. Cher’s classic, Do You Believe In Life After Love, must have been on loop every third song. I liked it the first 7 times but after that I had to have a word with the DJ, the world renowned Senor Miguel, all night long, requests are welcome, as long as its Cher or Bon Jovi!

After a fair few watery vodkas at that pool, I decided I should really sneak into the grand section and see what the fuss was. So I cleverly walked across a path, and I was in, tough enough. The pool was better in fairness, plus it had a better selection of watery spirits to choose from, so I hung around a while. Chilling with all the grandparents there. Having small talk about the books we were reading. Saying how glad we were that we had all brought cardigans, as it does get quite chilly here at night.

One granddad ruined all the small talk. His wife was telling another set of grandparents, and me, of how great it was that they brought their young granddaughter, she can interpret for them, she’s only 6 but speaks Spanish so well. The other granny must have said “Isn’t that awesome, really awesome, good for her, and for you, that is really awesome” about 9 times. She was interrupted, however, by the girl’s granddad, who had said nothing at all up to this point, until he pops out with “I wish the little c**t would shut up if you ask me”. Ha, it was brilliant, I was the only one laughing though. Cue awkward silence, which was a lot of fun, followed by the fighting about calling her that name in front of people, followed by the granddad calling his wife the same name too.

That fun was then followed by my brief meeting with Ze Germans. So, sitting at the bar in the swimming pool, grandparents fighting to my right, I decide to swivel to my left. Two big fat German dudes, in red thongs, both looking like Gary Glitter with their beards and caps, and who were holding hands I should add, a post wouldn’t be complete without some gay paragraph, at least I can talk to them about Harvey Milk. I kind of overhear them talking in German and looking at me. It takes a minute for my German ear to tune in that they’re saying something about my hair, mocking it I think. Little did the know about my previous life as a translator! So, I say nothing, let them mock on, make sure, I can get that they think I need a haircut, something like that. So I finish my drink, then in German, ask them where they bought their thongs, and inform them that hair is actually a wig, don’t tell anyone. Brutal comebacks I know, but it was the best I could do at the time in German. I finished off with a “Ja, VOLL!” alright which Germans don’t like, I showed them to mock me to my face in a foreign language!

I’ll have to blog on tomorrow about the brother and sister/boyfriend and girlfriend tomorrow. I’m late enough as it is. The game of bridge starts over in Sue and Jim’s room in 5 minutes! Sprung Broke on!!!

Song of the day is not cheesy DJ Senor Miguel’s choice but this savage one… Courtship Dating by Crystal Castles