Face Parts

So, my sister turns to me this morning and mouths pimple, pim-mple, pimPOL, PEEMpoool, pmpl, PMPOWL. I think my pimple actually blushed. And guess where it was? To the right of the tip of my nose. Like a little fairy dancing on her tippy toes, spreading sebum on my face. You should have seen it before it popped its ugly head out. It almost looked like a tumor. Oh well, what do I know? This whole time my pimple could have been telling itself: shit, what's this face growing on me? Dancing like a giant, spreading face parts on my skin. Eew.



I just celebrated my birthday a week ago. My sister tricked me. She was really good, too. We agreed to meet after I got off work. She told me she was looking for jeans. She actually tried stuff out at varius stores. Except, guess who lost in this little 'shopping' pretense? ME. I ended up buying something (or some things, my memory is foggy on the details). And then she goes, I have a Groupon that expires. TODAY. For happy hour.

So we head to the fabulous, and great-smelling Alexis Hotel for their Bookstore Lounge where, upon entering, the first thing I see is what looks like my cousin's hair. Trust me it's hard to miss, she likes experimenting with Big & Sexy hairspray. And in my mind I was thinking, wow, that was one popular Groupon. So surprise! They were there to take me out for an early birthday celebration.

In random order, the evening's events were: get rained on and have puddles form in our shoes, beer and birthday cupcakes, arcade games, a Moroccan dinner, witness an over-excited adolescent belly dance, catch the end of the Mayweather/ Ortiz fight, lose at billiards, attempt belly dancing (belly? yes. dancing? nooo).

On my real birthday, I had the day off and it was just as nice. 6am Birthday phone call from my sister and nephew from back home. And a call from my best friend, whose rendition of Marilyn Monroe's Happy Birthday did not reach its completion.

I think she got as far as the first to you before we both burst out laughing.

P.S. She just had her birthday too!

Flamingo Orange Juice Retirement Sunshine Part 2

All right, where were we? Aah, after Key West. Day 4. By the way, as I type this, I am letting my violet/pinkish nail color dry. My right middle finger has been giving me grief. I've started over on it twice! I'm not entirely free of blame as I may have nicked as I, err, took a nap.

Back to Day 4. As I recall it was a Tuesday. This day was a blur of laying out in the sun, sipping bottles of Presidente that had a great gift for turning warm within minutes of being taken out of the fridge. It got so hot that we ended up migrating to the pool. Can I just say that I absolutely loved the warm ocean water and pool water? You know how in most places you get sweaty from laying out so you jump in the water but then you get chills from the water's temperature? That did not happen here. Except for one occasion when it was borderline stormy.

We grilled some pork and chicken for dinner that night. I could tell our next-door neighbors must have been just a tiny bit jealous, as our meat was basted in a garlicky, vinegary, soy saucy, lemony concotion of sorts. One gal walked back and forth by the grill for no reason at all. I mean, at least bring some props - a piece of trash maybe, to pretend to throw in the garbage can, or a lump of coal to put in the little bin, or a piece of raw meat with a little, pardon me, I wish to grill this morsel for my pet!



The next day, there was more laying out in store for us. And then we headed to South Beach. It's exactly like in South Beach movie scenes - people walking around barely dressed, Tony Montana and Manny Ribera trying to pick up girls. Just kidding about Scarface. We went into an Art Deco store where I wish I could have taken pictures of a Joan Crawford paper doll book! OMG, Joan Crawford as a silent movie star, Joan Crawford in period films, Joan Crawford when she had a make-over of sorts, Joan Crawford lifting a silver dish cover to reveal that Baby Jane served a rat for DINDIN!!!



So we walked down Ocean Drive where we spotted Gianni Versace's former home that was now a hotel/ restaurant. And, where the restaurant managers/hosts/hostesses were ruthless in trying to get you to do their happy hour. I mean, they will wave their menus in your face and try to not-so-stealthily usher you into their business. We ended up happy hour-ing at an Italian place... with a flamenco dancer. Go figure. The dancer and the musicians were fantastic. Their deal was buy one get one of their tub-sized drinks to share. I mean, the mojito looked like a kid's ecosystem fish bowl project and their pina colada looked like a body builder's protein shake at 7am.

We ended the night at this place called Bayside. It's like an outdoor/indoor bazaar/performance place. No actually, my sister and I ended the night with a glass of milk and those strangely delicious cookies from the plane ride over, and Jurassic Park 3. No, actually I ended the night on my side trying to fall asleep but wanting to get the AC on a cooler setting but was too lazy to get up.

Thursday was when Hurricane Irene swished by Florida. That was a close call. We got a full day of rain and scary waves but that was all. You know what that means, right? Laundry day. Except a bunch of other people were thinking the same thing. We got first dibs, though. Aside from laundry we also got to know Tabatha, Patti Stanger, the Kardashians, and Benjamin Button via the TV. Look, when you are on vacation, your brain must also go on vacation, which is why it was perfectly all right to watch said reality shows.

On Friday, big waves aside, the weather turned for the better. It was back to the beach and the pool. Now, a note about resort pools. All of y'all just met each other, why are you telling her that your husband has sleep apnea and uses a CPAP machine. And why are you telling him that you and your spouse sleep in separate bedrooms. It was like I was watching An Hour with Strangers: Your Secrets are Safe with Me.

On our last night in Florida, we had dinner at my Dad's good friend's house. His super cute, squirmy, toddler grandson was there. There was a lot of eating, a lot of talk about skincare, dieting, our adventures when were new immigrants, as well as an episode of Karaoke Battle USA.

And then it was time to go. It's always sad when the trip ends. I mean, there's no bigger 'end' signal than having to check in for your return flight and print your boarding pass.

Saturday went by quickly. We had the required picture-taking session at the resort, with my Mom waving the camera screen at our faces saying, this picture looks good because I TOOK IT. Then we headed to a Japanese buffet where we filled our bellies up because who wants to get desperately hungry at the airport where your choices are expensive cardboard, bargain grease, and pricey pellets?

Then let's just skip the airport and plane ride home and just flash forward to me with my peeling skin and my brain that is still on vacation because God help me, I'm still watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians!?!?!?!

Flamingo Orange Juice Retirement Sunshine Part I

A week ago I was with my family enjoying our last day at Lauderdale-by-the-Sea. We were sitting on our resort-provided beach chairs under our beach umbrellas (also resort-provided). And as the wind blew our hair, and the waves crashed and the foaming water reached our... asses which were hanging extra low on our chairs because duh it's vacation and everyone knows that part of your brain that says you're full is automatically turned off for the duration of your vacation.

I want to go back. On my first week back at work, I swear I could feel my body coming down with a fever. My bones were saying, you bitch, take me back to the sand and sea and no shoes on my feets!!!

One day of pouring rain (courtesy of Hurricane Irene which we narrowly missed) and possible-evacuation aside, it was a most wonderful week. And as vacations often go, it started with an unavoidable plane ride.

Aaah. Here we are again, where cabin pressure yields all sorts of weird behavior such as -

Spilling your secrets to your seat mate.

Wanting to throttle the flight attendant on your little screen wagging her finger as she says smoking is nooot allowed on this flight. Shut up!

Using the aisle as your gym. Come on! Can't you rest your stupid biceps and quads for a few hours? You are blocking the snack/ drink cart! Sit down!

Using the headrest in front of you as a support to stand up. Said headrest consequently becomes a catapult for the head that was resting on it.

And many more (feel free to insert observed behavior here ________)!

But let's move on. Touchdown in Fort Lauderdale had us removing our Seattle clothing layers. I mean, I started to feel the heat just from walking on the jetway from the plane to the arrival gate. I thought nothing could rival my home country's tropical heat where simply thinking of dressing up makes me sweat, but Florida was hot. I could feel my hair expanding into a wedge-shaped horror.



First on the agenda: buying food supplies for our week-long stay. Thanks to my Dad's old friend, we had a ride straight to the Asian store. We also had the most delish, Filipino-style taho, sold by a wise old Chinese man who gave us the stink-eye and a ferocious WE DON'T HAVE NAPKINS HERE when we asked for spoons and napkins and ignored his sign of No Eat-In.

After a take-out lunch of roast pork, barbecued pork, and roast duck plus rice combo, it was straight to the Windjammer Resort. And pardonnez-moi-gut-hanging-from-le-bikini, but the beach cannot wait.



ZOMG. It was glorious! There was just the right amount of breeze to have me and my sister drifting in and out of a light sleep. There were a few kids but they were amazingly well-behaved and any shouting was drowned out by the sound of waves.

And suddenly it was time to get ready for dinner. After driving past a couple of strip malls, we decided on a casual dinner at the Red Lobster. Except... except the diners looked like they were dressed for a swankier place. Let's just get this out of the way, they like their clothes snug in Florida. No pardonnez-moi-rolls-spilling-out-of-le-tube-top for them. The label on that dress that says size 0? Who cares? If it zips, it fits. They just own it! And frankly - danger of eye disease aside - I love that confidence.

After dinner we headed to Hard Rock, um, I don't know how to describe it. It had a parking lot as big as an airport. It had several restaurants and clubs and shops and a sprawling casino. What is it? Is it a city in a building? Why are there so many people? What is that woman wearing? Is that a mask, or is it someone's enhanced face?! Why are the stores still open when it's almost midnight? Is this hell? Am I in hell already?!? I'm sorry okay! For all my sins!

And that's how Day 1 ended. Day 2 was a lazy Sunday - Mass, brunch, more laying out on the beach. Pre-Snack. Snacks. Swimming Pool. Pre-Dinner. Beach. Dinner. Second Dinner.

Day 3 was a trip to Key West. What a charming old town, where one is free from the trappings of consumerism... Until you walk to the corner Banana Republic, flanked by Express, across the street from Hard Rock Cafe, a few steps from a nice view of the hulking, docked cruise ship. Just kidding (but not really). It's actually a beautiful place. All those old houses with wrap-around decks and louvered windows. Oh and we were at Conch Republic having lunch when the skies opened up and it poured. Really poured. And then it was as if nothing happened. Moments later it was skin-burning hot once again - a special Florida talent.

The end of Day 3 had us rolling out of the car that night, hungry and rumpled from the long trip but ready for Day 4.

[In a movie-trailer-voice over] Coming up: Sand. Warm beer. Waves. Sand in your butt crack. Miami. Miami Beach. Stay tuned.