Filed under: Amy wrote..., Showing off, The Carly and Amy Show | Tags: Cancun, vacation
Not usually how Mexicans say it….but nonetheless I am off to sunny, insatiable Cancun for a week long vacation. I know, I know..you must be thinking, “That sexy haired biatch! Who does she think she is flaunting her vacation like that?” Well, I’ll tell ya….hope your miserable weather, wherever you are, doesn’t sink you down into a deep depression.
You must also be wondering, “Why Cancun? Why not Paris?” Well, I’ll tell ya….my dear friend Erika didn’t want to get married in Paris. She wanted tropical and sunny, alas Cancun. I’ll be staying at the RIU Palace Las Americas. Sounds fancy, huh? Well, I’ll tell ya….it is. Not to make you any more jealous, the RIU is an all-inclusive resort (free liquor 24-7 baby!) which promises not to disappoint. I will be the real judge of that.
Anyhow, I’m leaving in the morning..try not to miss me whilst I am away frolicking on the sandy, sun-soaked beaches of Cancun getting serviced by cabana boys. Until we meet again, enjoy your rain.
*Normally I don’t like to put scantily clad photos of myself on the Internet (I’m on the right), but I thought, since you all are so sad about being stuck in your town I’d show you how much fun I had on my last trip to Mexico. Toodaloo!
As Carly has kindly alluded…I have been having some fabulous hair days of late. So fabulous it prompted random strangers to wave at me from the bus stop and old men to nearly assault me through my car window. It’s good shit.
It comes in this nice purple, sleek tube aptly titled “being gutsy”. It makes my hair shine and even made a friend of mine ask if I had just gotten my hair done. Carly and I had an “inside joke” laugh about that comment because of the success I’d been having so far.
To use:
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Wash hair.
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Towel dry.
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Squeeze a nickel (for my International readers, find a coin) sized amount into palm.
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Rub through hands and apply all over hair.
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Partner with an amplifier mist or a small amount of mousse for extra volume.
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Blow dry.
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Style.
And wah-la…there you have it.
Hot stuff.
Step 1: Buy a new house.
Step 2: Let your brother-in-law leave town on vacation.
Step 3: Have random house projects.
Step 4: Fuck it. I can get this done myself.
Step 5: Caulk* window in shower AND replace thermostat.
Step 6: Feel a fine sense of accomplishment on how much ass I kicked.
*Please note: Caulk is pronounced (cah-k). Yes, that’s right. COCK. I said it.
Amy’s a lot of things. One of them is a sweetheart. Just one example: she indulges my little Sephora obsession, she defers to it lovingly. She buys me Sephora gift cards as presents and she’ll drive way the hell and gone to get me to the humongous mall that houses the closest location to her house. What I’ve noticed is that she always does it with a smile on her face (and have I mentioned her great hair?) but the truth is, I’ve never really noticed the gleeful sparkle in my eye reflected in hers. It’s weird.
I’ve visited many a Sephora. It started in Paris and since then, there’s been trips to Seattle, Honolulu and the aforementioned times in Portland. I’ve never said this to anyone before, even though I’ve been thinking it for a while, but each visit has me feeling less and less excited. I’ve begun to wonder whether I’m the problem or Sephora is. Has the shine worn off the former place of my dreams? Or has said place gone downhill? Still, I’ll wander through and inevitably make a purchase, sometimes I even order online, but it just doesn’t have the same excited feel to it anymore. Hmmm….
As mentioned above, I’m kind of over it. And really, it couldn’t come at a more interesting time. You’ll see why later.
That realization made this article even more entertaining to read.
And we were having such a nice time. So civilized and great. Shared vegetarian lettuce wraps and a nice meat-full and meat-free lunch at the local PF Chang’s and then this…
Um, excuse me if I’m wrong, but isn’t MY fortune supposed to be about, you know, ME??? And all of a sudden, I’ve got this sobbing girl on my arm (Amy) who wants to know what it is I’m going to do to make her sad in the first place. Ugh. You know what, PF? I don’t have time for this. Get new writers.
You gotta give a girl a break. I never eat potato chips. And I looooove potato chips. It’s been months. (And months and months.) What started this was the little barbecue we had at Amy’s. The chips were put out and damn! I had to have some. It’s not like I’d been avoiding them, I just hadn’t had any. Until then… after that, they were all I could think about.
Friday night, on your way home for a marathon night with the Feud, we stopped in at Safeway for some drinks and… well, we were there for drinks, but I had a great idea! I was going to buy some vegan chips! Amy pointed me towards flax, bean and soy chips and I redirected her towards the pure junk food. I was looking for something grossly unhealthy, just minus any dairy, you know?? Anyway, I was rushed, I picked up the first bag of Ruffles I saw that were labeled plain. Well. I learned my lesson. Read the fine print, kids. Or the obvious details printed in bold and highlighted on the product. What an ass I am.
As soon as I realized my mistake, Amy tried to convince me the rest of the way home that it was healthier that I chose baked. Pfft. Let’s face it, I eat vegetables for my existence, I deserve a little fat now and then…
We got home, put on the four shows we’d DVRd over the day we’d been gone and broke out the snacks. She had French Onion Sunchips. I had BAKED freaking Lays. I’m sure I saw her smirking at me as I dug in.
Let the photos from today do the talking about my experience last night.
Here’s my Public Service Announcement… Potato chips are for fun, folks. Not for everyday. It’s my belief that if you eat them once in a while in moderation, they’re good shit. In fact, they’re off the hook. So fuck the baked shit, screw looking for the lower fat content. Instead, try getting in touch with some self-restraint. If that’s what you’re worried about, that is…
Not everyone wakes up fresh as a daisy. We’ll be the first to admit that we’re part of that crew. Let’s face it, no grown woman eats formerly frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when she’s at her best so cut us some slack in the looks department on this installment, capiche?
Smucker’s calls them Simple Pleasure… Made Even Simpler. “We’ve sealed the goodness of a SMUCKER’S PB&J sandwich inside soft bread and removed the crust. All you do is thaw and serve – A simple way to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures.”
Huh. Never heard of them. Not sure we have these in Canada, but who cares, really? Unless…
That’s how they roll. A little gingham. A little fruit… Typical Smucker’s.
Again, appealing. Thinking like a five year old, of course. I don’t know, but the packaging seemed a little suspect to me. A little too pure for white bread and sugar loaded PB and too sweet jelly for me. (It isn’t even fruit filled enough to call it jam. Or do they not say that down here? …Amy?)
Anything’ll look better if you hire a great looking backdrop to frame it in…
Okay, really. You’d think that the bread would be all soft and shit, but it’s actually pretty firm. And the peanut butter? Abundant. The jelly? Totally there. Ugh.
The jelly just drips out! I wanted to hate this stuff, but when it comes down to it, it’s actually pretty good. Of course, there’s no sense in looking at the nutritional content nor is there any way you ought to feed it to your kids on a regular basis (or ever), but it’s a fun hangover indulgence.
And Amy says it’s worth licking your fingers for.
STEP ONE: Look cute after convincing the World Market staff that a table and four chairs CAN fit in a Civic hatchback, then concede that maybe the table does need to come out of the box. (Warning: Be sure to rock great hair while doing so.)
STEP TWO: Enjoy three minutes of PDX sun while waiting for delivery of chairs from the warehouse.
STEP THREE: Work on selling the rest of the world that the Civic really can hold everything you want it to. That’s positive thinking for you…
STEP FOUR: Stuff, stuff, stuff.
STEP FIVE: Don’t hesitate to injure friends in the process.
STEP SIX: Indulge said injured friends in their greatest weaknesses. (That wrist doesn’t look so sore now, does it?)
STEP SEVEN: Get everything inside the house.
STEP EIGHT: Read the instructions, kids. (She’s totally faking that. It’s actually an E!News update on Britney’s whereabouts. And Amy’s catching a little nap, anyway.)
STEP NINE: Laugh while you look like you know what you’re doing.
SHE LIKES TO SCREW: No step here. But it’s no wonder that they say she likes to… screw.
FINISHED PRODUCT
ENJOYING THE FRUITS OF OUR LABOUR: Drinks to celebrate came later and often.
