What Happens When Two Moms Who Met Over The Internet Go To Mexico Together, Part 1

As I'm sure most of you are not aware of, I went to Mexico last week with Julie from I Like Beer and Babies- Cancun, to be specific. Haha, of course you knew. Here's the story of the trip through an interpretive dance of photos.

Julie picked me up at the airport, meeting me at the curb (what's up with not meeting me at the gate with flowers and chocolate, bitch?) and I knew it was her minivan, Rambone, because of a sign she had secretly made and taped to the window, and she knew it was me because of a sign I had secretly made and was holding out, in some sign-making cosmic connection. Because we never would have recognized each other from all the photos on our respective blogs.

Getting into the van was one of the most surreal experiences because I was meeting her for the first time but it felt like I had known her for years. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't weird, it was completely natural.

I'm on the left, she's the carrot top with all the necklaces. Coz she a gansta.

We meet! We drink! Here's a portion of the drink menu at some bar in her city. It was the best menu I've ever seen (perhaps I don't get out much):

But enough about America. We flew to Cancun and upon checking into the all-inclusive hotel, they placed booze and food bracelets on our wrists so they knew that we weren't some bums off the street. Because we totally look like homeless Mexican nationals. Anyway, my very first thought was, OH MY GOD, THE BRACELET IS GOING TO LEAVE A DAMN TAN LINE!

I KNOW. Serious problems, people.

But, I quickly forgot my problems when I saw these IN our ROOM:

That's right, chicas, a booze dispenser in our room. We made drinks and headed down to the beach. Now, I live within a mile of the beach in California, and even still, I was in awe of the sand in Cancun. It's like baby powder. You could snort it off a hooker. It's so soft and fine and not at all gritty- it's some seriously fucking luxurious sand.

We stayed on the beach and in the bath-temperature ocean until sunset and until all the resort-goers stumbled into the hotel to die from their sunburns (we saw some gnarly, seriously fucked up sunburns there) and this allowed us to capture some people-free photos of one of the pools and these amazing built-into-the-pool recliner chairs.

And see this guy walking along the beach with the wares he was pedaling balanced on his head:

And then it was off to eat, and every buffet had WINE FROM A TAP. It was shit wine, but it was WINE FROM A TAP:

We also had some specialty drinks. The bartenders really liked making these drinks that are apparently supposed to represent the Mexican flag, but they tasted like shitballs of sugar and looked more like the flags of Bolivia or Ghana (fuck yeah I had to Google that). The chocolate martinis flanking the flag drinks, however, were NOT shit. They were spiked chocolate milk glory in our mouths.

And one more picture because why not:

Cancun was windy. We got blow jobs when we sat at a bar next to an open door:

And we enjoyed some scenery:

View from our deck.

Fountain in one of the resort restaurants.

We wore sombreros that smelled like body odor and probably crawled with a trillion lice, just to look like total dicks and because we were drinking.

Sunday, we went on a speedboat/snorkeling excursion. 

I was being a dork with my snorkeling crap on, and got photo bombed by Monkey, the COOLEST GUIDE EVER.

We, and by "we" I mean Julie, drove a speedboat to a "private" area for us to snorkel in with 50 other people. After Julie got the hang of the boat and we felt confident that we weren't going to face-skate across the water and die, I put my swollen, sausage-like feet and cankles (more on that in another post) up and enjoyed the ride and the view.

When we returned, we took the opportunity to overpay for cheap crap in a gift shop/pharmacy/7-11 type mercado. I got some souvenirs for the boys that even though I knew they were going to break immediately, it still pissed me off when they actually did break them immediately, and this magnet for Nate, because he loves boobs.

I also learned just how the West was won. You think you know history? You don't know shit. The West was won with a tequila gun (look at the top of the box).

Then we got ready for our last night in Mexico. I didn't pack correctly and ran out of clothes to wear that didn't encase me in the humidity that we were already drowning in, so Julie graciously let me borrow not only an extra dress of hers but a necklace, too. It was like wearing a pelt of her skin and would have been totally creepy but I was too sweaty and hot to care. 

DORK ON A DECK. With some sexy, frizzy, humidity-styled hair.

The next day we flew back to the States. After saying goodbye to Julie, I endured two more flights to get to my neck of the woods, with a layover in Denver, the mile "high" city. I went to the bathroom and was surprised to find this in the stall:

I'm always looking for inspiration in public bathrooms. As I was reeking of old booze and airport McDonalds and sweat and fear (from two airplanes rides with another pending), my hair frizzy, face greasy, makeup pooling in my under eye bags and melting down my cheeks, smelling my own urine and the shit of the neighboring stall, exhausted and my already long-ass day only two thirds over, I'd never felt more beautiful.

It was like a message from God.

Then I boarded my last flight and it was the second-worst flight I've ever had. The plane seemed to struggle while taking off and I came close to having the one and only panic attack of my life (so far). I kept creepily whispering, "What the fuck, what the fuck, this is NOT a normal takeoff, what the fuck!" while death-gripping my coat and sweating profusely as my breathing became more and more shallow. I wanted to crawl out of my own skin and use it to parachute out of the plane. It probably would have been best if the dude next to me had punched me in the face and knocked me out. It was torturous. 

After 2.5 hours of refusing to think about anything in my past lest my life began to flash before my eyes, we landed and I silently said my "We live!" mantra. Seventy-eight times.

Nate picked me up at the airport when I landed in the middle of the night, and I crashed so hard in my own bed when we got home that I didn't stop snoring even after he kicked me 114 times. I felt like I had been hit by a truck the next morning. But the squeals of the boys when they saw me was like the biggest rush in the world. I totally understand what rock stars feel when they take the stage now, totally.

Happy boy. And YES, I know I look exhausted and strung out and like I just woke up. BECAUSE I WAS, and I HAD just woken up. 

I can't believe I posted a first-thing-in-the-morning photo of me on the internet. Holy shit.

Funny story:

One night, we hung out in one of the bars with some guy from England (right Julie?) because he totally respected the fact that we were married with kids (we wore that shit like SKUNK SPRAY). He was completely wasted but was having fun and totally harmless. We laughed as we watched him making out with some random chick at the bar, he spilled a drink on me, you know, the usual good times.

We saw him the next day. He told us that he had woken up in his hotel room with blood all over his shirt and a broken nose, and no recollection of how he got it. We asked him if he remembered making out with the chick at the bar and he had no idea what we were talking about. 

Oh my God. To be young and stupid again. 

Just kidding. Like I want to wake up with a fucking broken nose and venereal disease, and no recollection of how I got either.

CAN'T WAIT FOR OUR NEXT TRIP!

To read more about the trip from Julie's perspective, click here.

A final shout out to Amy at Destinations by Amy for booking our trip! THANK YOU!

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