Punta Cana

Day one...

Sitting in Chickie -n- Pete's getting a cheesesteak and a beer, across from our terminal. Spice got a mimosa. It's only 9ish.

"That's not marijuana!" (No, it's Mamajuama.)

"We have no idea what time it is."

Why am I fixing the toilet myself?

Day two...

What a romantic setting to get our spa treatments for... uh... er... um... two straight girls - together. I hope they don't expect us to get into that bathtub together.

This is a game room, NOT a casino. Right?

"You've got a big beer."

"If you plant shit, you'll get shit back."

Cuban hottie sitting next to me at dinner. Beautiful. He is from Miami. He wants to go dancing at 11.

The bartender is trying to sleep with me. "Sex is a big problem down here. I'm young, you're young." I have to go back to my room now.

Day three...

A dolphin named Vincent... I have to admit, I think it was love.

A closet... a beautiful Cuban showed me where it was... it was comfortable and exciting and fun.

"Do you like bad boys?"
"Sometimes."
"I'm a bad boy."
His dimples ate me alive.

Day four...

The Blue Mamba and the last words for both Spice and I... "oh shit". Some waves just CANNOT be jumped.

"You fucked my earrings out." These were not my words.

Vacation is reminding me of what I want out of life... going to have to make it happen when I get home. No if, ands or buts.

Day five...

Stingrays are cute, feeding them is fun, some sharks have no interest in people but they are beautiful in the water.

Score! A picture with my Cuban closet buddy.

Michael Jackson has been reincarnated into a grown man's body. It actually was amazing.

Day six...

It's time to go home and fix my life.

I shouldn't be crying about going back to work but I am. I understand the after vacation blues/crankiness but this is different. This is my soul telling me to get started on what I have to do.