¡Soy La Unicá Que No Es Una Puta!
What a long strange trip it's been...
Went down to LA for a long weekend to visit Jonathan. Arrived in LA about an hour late due to Southwest's general incompetence. Picked up In N Out and went back to Jonathan and Sasha's place. Woke up early on Thursday to check out Santee Alley, which is apparently heaven on earth. You name it - they got it. It was pretty funny though, doing Mexico light the day before we left for Mexico. After shopping our asses off, Jonathan finally pulled Sasha and I away. We smoked, we ate, we smoked, we passed out. Woke up, went drinking. After getting nice and toasty, we ended up at Jumbo's: a strip club with a clown theme. Jonathan was ridiculous, so Sasha and I took him home and put him to bed.
Next morning we left for Ensenada. I slept most of the way and woke up almost in Me-He-Ko. Crossed the border, found a hotel, shopped more. Ate dinner, passed out.
Woke up Saturday and shopped almost all day. Took a tan/swim break midday. Started heavily drinking. Ate dinner. Sasha and Jonathan got into a fight about fireworks. Jonathan and I left to go drink while Sasha cooled off. This is when the story gets interesting.
One thing you need to know - never follow Martin at Amigo's advice, should you find yourself in Ensenada. So I asked Jonathan where he wanted to go and what did he reply? Un Noche de Paris! The stripclub Martin advised us to go to. We walk in and, at first, it seemed like a shitty strip club. However, with the exchange rate and all...we couldn't really tell what was going on. After Jonathan bought a private dance it became pretty clear though - Martin has directed us to a whorehouse.
No, I'm not shitting you in the least.
So Jonathan is up getting his private dance and I'm alone at the rail. Our waiter rushed right over to me asking "are you ok? Where is your boyfriend? Do you want a bodyguard to come sit with you? Let me know if anyone bothers you - we'll kick him out." I, not being up where the private dances are, still do not really know what is going on. I ask for a light and a beer and reassure the waiter I'm cool and will flag him down if I need him. A little while later, one of the strippers walks over to me and says "you are so beautiful! Your boyfriend has left you? I will take his place!" I tell her, no, really, I'm fine. Go do your dance thing. But this does not persuade her. One of her co-workers comes over and says "beautiful girl! We are taking you home tonight!" I say "no, no, really! My...boyfriend...will be right back. I'm good. No thanks!" But still, they do not take no for an answer. They're rubbing on my shoulders and shit and I do the only thing I can think of - I flag down the waiter. He asks if a man is bothering me. I say no, but these ladies are. He says something to them in Spanish and they walk off, looking forlorn.
Jonathan comes down then and asks how I'm doing. We trade stories and he asks if I want to go soon. I say, hell yeah, let's just finish our beers. Just then one of my stripper-admirers dances over to us. She takes my head, puts it between her boobies and starts rubbing them on the side of my head. I push her away, slam my beer and say "Jonathan! Out! NOW!!!!!" He takes one look at me, slams his beer and we head out as fast as possible.
We go home, I shower shower shower (but, really, it's Mexican water. You actually get dirtier taking a shower.) And I sleep with nightmare of silicon dancing in my head.
The next morning we pack up and go to TJ. We see dogs assfucking. We go back to LA. We eat, we smoke, we sleep. And this morning, I blissfully headed home.
Vacation is awesome - but reality is a cold, hard shock afterwards. And the only thing better than going to Mexico is getting the fuck back to America.
Went down to LA for a long weekend to visit Jonathan. Arrived in LA about an hour late due to Southwest's general incompetence. Picked up In N Out and went back to Jonathan and Sasha's place. Woke up early on Thursday to check out Santee Alley, which is apparently heaven on earth. You name it - they got it. It was pretty funny though, doing Mexico light the day before we left for Mexico. After shopping our asses off, Jonathan finally pulled Sasha and I away. We smoked, we ate, we smoked, we passed out. Woke up, went drinking. After getting nice and toasty, we ended up at Jumbo's: a strip club with a clown theme. Jonathan was ridiculous, so Sasha and I took him home and put him to bed.
Next morning we left for Ensenada. I slept most of the way and woke up almost in Me-He-Ko. Crossed the border, found a hotel, shopped more. Ate dinner, passed out.
Woke up Saturday and shopped almost all day. Took a tan/swim break midday. Started heavily drinking. Ate dinner. Sasha and Jonathan got into a fight about fireworks. Jonathan and I left to go drink while Sasha cooled off. This is when the story gets interesting.
One thing you need to know - never follow Martin at Amigo's advice, should you find yourself in Ensenada. So I asked Jonathan where he wanted to go and what did he reply? Un Noche de Paris! The stripclub Martin advised us to go to. We walk in and, at first, it seemed like a shitty strip club. However, with the exchange rate and all...we couldn't really tell what was going on. After Jonathan bought a private dance it became pretty clear though - Martin has directed us to a whorehouse.
No, I'm not shitting you in the least.
So Jonathan is up getting his private dance and I'm alone at the rail. Our waiter rushed right over to me asking "are you ok? Where is your boyfriend? Do you want a bodyguard to come sit with you? Let me know if anyone bothers you - we'll kick him out." I, not being up where the private dances are, still do not really know what is going on. I ask for a light and a beer and reassure the waiter I'm cool and will flag him down if I need him. A little while later, one of the strippers walks over to me and says "you are so beautiful! Your boyfriend has left you? I will take his place!" I tell her, no, really, I'm fine. Go do your dance thing. But this does not persuade her. One of her co-workers comes over and says "beautiful girl! We are taking you home tonight!" I say "no, no, really! My...boyfriend...will be right back. I'm good. No thanks!" But still, they do not take no for an answer. They're rubbing on my shoulders and shit and I do the only thing I can think of - I flag down the waiter. He asks if a man is bothering me. I say no, but these ladies are. He says something to them in Spanish and they walk off, looking forlorn.
Jonathan comes down then and asks how I'm doing. We trade stories and he asks if I want to go soon. I say, hell yeah, let's just finish our beers. Just then one of my stripper-admirers dances over to us. She takes my head, puts it between her boobies and starts rubbing them on the side of my head. I push her away, slam my beer and say "Jonathan! Out! NOW!!!!!" He takes one look at me, slams his beer and we head out as fast as possible.
We go home, I shower shower shower (but, really, it's Mexican water. You actually get dirtier taking a shower.) And I sleep with nightmare of silicon dancing in my head.
The next morning we pack up and go to TJ. We see dogs assfucking. We go back to LA. We eat, we smoke, we sleep. And this morning, I blissfully headed home.
Vacation is awesome - but reality is a cold, hard shock afterwards. And the only thing better than going to Mexico is getting the fuck back to America.
posted by La Doña at 5:18 PM
3 Comments:
What is this vacation you speak of?
I just wrote you a long reply and tried to publish it and I think it erased it. I'll retype later. Just cannot be bothered with it now. Or you could just call me.
Ok, I'm retelling you what was erased earlier. I think I've decided to get my hair straightened. I miss having it straight every day back when I used to straighten it but I am really too lazy to do it myself. It takes like an hour. But I really want it straight. So I think that I am going to get it done permanently. Little nervous because I've never really done anything like that before. I'm also cutting it. Not sure how much, but I'm starting to think about a Kathy cut. Like shoulder length. Can't quite do that yet because everytime I think of it I remember how much I love Lux's hair and damn that movie it keeps my hair long. But I am cutting it (probably 7-10 inches) and am thinking about really cutting it. So I read some of your blog to Stephanie. And then I showed her a picture of you. She said you look just like Erica Christensen. I found that funny, but I see the resemblance. I told her you would like Erica Christensen if it weren't for the whole Scientology issue. Well maybe you still like her, but it must temper things. Oh, and this just added that word verification thing. Strange.
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