La Entropista

Tomorrow we are off to Los Cabos for two weeks. Granted, the temperature is predicted to hover around 100 degrees Farenheit but I'm hoping the beach, the pool and the constant flow of tequila-based beverages will help keep us cool. Of course we'll be going to the hotel with the pirate ship in the swimming pool, which seems to impress me more than it does the children, but once they get there and find out that there is a hot tub on the deck, they'll be full in.

While all of us will be headed south tomorrow, today my nether regions got a head start and went to Brazil. They've only gone there once before, in a traumatic vodka-soaked episode with a Persian aesthetician in Irvine, after which I showed up at the graduate computer lab drunk as a skunk, and later blabbed every inappropriate detail to those sitting around me in Land Use Law. This time I went to a nice tinkly music place in Santa Barbara where what looked like an eighteen year old girl was down there taking care of business while up above I had my Kelly Clarkson moments silently biting my lip and cursing my poor memory for pain. In the end it went a hell of a lot smoother than my first attempt at a home job that ended in me lying on the kitchen floor underneath the microwave with tears in my eyes knowing full well that I'd still have to do the other side. The last time this process was considered was with Maya in Berlin, when we rode past this place (which Bowleserised covered so nicely here) but I thought if I were to scream obscenities at the person torturing me, I'd really prefer her to understand fully what I was trying to communicate.

So then, I guess the point of all that is now there is one less bathing suit issue to contend with. Will promise to wear loads of sunscreen, eat dozens of lobster tacos, and try not sell the children to any migrant farm worker families in some random moment of weakness.