Friday, March 30, 2007


Guys, I'm alive. I did not die from dehydration, nor did I literally puke my guts up through my mouth. Though I did puke through my nose AND get my period while I was going through all of this. I also cried a little bit so I had stuff coming from every orifice except my ears.

I watched so much TV over the past two days it's retarded. I watched almost all of the Iconoclasts series which confirmed that Renee Zellweger is the most annoying person on earth. The one with Paul Simon and Lorne Michaels is awesome (Paul is the most ADORABLE person on Earth). And I, of course, loved the one with Redford and Newman. Hearts. Also, if I have to see another goddamn commercial for the Happy Feet DVD I am going to shoot myself. Every single channel I watched had that commercial!! Oh and King of Queens... not a bad show. I've never really watched it and I gotta say - not bad! (Am I crazy? Was that the fever talking?)

But I think the most disgusting thing I watched was the VH1 show "The Search for The Next Coyote Ugly." The woman who started Coyote Ugly (is that a bar or a type of girl? I'm not sure.) ran a search to find the next hot Coyote Ugly girl. Now I don't really have a problem with dancing on the bar (as we all saw I did it - kinda - in Mexico) or with bar tending or with being sexy or with flaunting it...but this show was like the bottom of the barrel. These girls were just plain sad. Sorry but it's true. I was in the mood for trashy TV but even that was too sad to watch.

I bought "Invincible" on Movies on Demand cuz what can I say, I'm in love with Mark Wahlberg (and have been since "Fear" thank you very much) and I was so drained and tired that I cried at just about every turn. So yes, I think that was a great movie (also it's based on a true story so the tears were DOUBLED).

And I finally saw Brigadoon because it was on Free Movies on Demand and JESUS is that a terrible musical. The accents alone! TERRIBLE! Yeesh.

And that's about all I have to report from the comfort of my bed. I got up this morning to record a voice over for Lifetime (for "Can you Handle the Truth" Thursdays at 8pm! Listen for me!) and it seriously took the life(time) out of me. (heyoo) Exhausted. So now I'll rest a bit more, eat some delicious bread that Liz MADE for me (seriously you have no idea how good this stuff is - also it's about all I can eat right now) and watch a few hundred more hours of mind-numbing television.

Hope no one else caught the virus!!



Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Oh, What a Night!

Because I've given up hope at ever being seen as "sexy" or "classy" or "a woman" I'll just lay it all out here for you.

Last night was my definition of hell (without anyone having died or been seriously injured).

1. Vomit every 20-30 minutes (like clockwork) from 11pm - 1pm the following day.
2. When nothing is left to vomit gastric juices abound.
3. Why not throw in a massive headache.
4. Because you are vommitting there will be no time for sleep, miss.
5. The thought that you are seriously close to being fired and now can not go into work AGAIN will run through your mind immediatelly after you puke.

And the cake-topper...

6. When you finally stop puking and you FINALLY fall asleep after one of the most terrible nights of your life: you shit the bed. Yes. SHIT. IN. YOUR. BED. Ok, so it was only a little bit and there was no "substance" but guys... I SHIT IN MY BED.

A note to all the men who were thinking of having sex with me at any point in the next ten years: keep walking.

At this point I'm able to keep fluids down so there might be some light at the end of the tunnel. I was seriously close to freaking out since I was so dehydrated death seemed right around the corner. I realize I have no idea what it feels like to be close to death or what it might TAKE to die from dehydration but COME ON DUDES... I SHIT THE BED.

I am lying on my couch now. Thanks a lot, ASS-HOLE.

Have a better day than I am, please.



Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Johnson, I called you into my office because I... Sorry...I'm sorry... but what is up with your hair?

Oh this?? You like it!?

I... It's very... it's much...

Bigger!?! Hotter!?

Not exactly. It's... it's...

Blonder??! HAIRIER!!?!??

You're not even close.


Actually JOHNSON (ahem) I was going to say that your hair looked much...gayer. Like really, really super gay.

Gayer? For realzies?

Like...super gay. So much gayer than it was before.






“My confidence level increased
since I’ve been going to GayerHair.
I never knew that even my side burns would look and feel so real.”


Couldn't your hair be gayer?

(Coming soon our brand new line of porn-staches.)

Sunday, March 25, 2007


3 Interviews in 2 days and what have I learned about myself? I'm REALLY BAD AT INTERVIEWS.

Someone once said the hardest role you'll ever have to play is yourself (and if no one ever said that then can I get credit?) and jesus, guys, it's totally true. Put a camera on me, ask me a question and I turn into a bumbling idiot.

Eliza and I were interviewed Saturday before out IEP show at Mo Pitkin's by our friend Trish for Indigo TV, a wonderful program on Channel 35, Thursdays at 8. ( Eliza stayed cool, calm and collected and I...well let's just say all of my answers turned into a fit of laughter and NONE OF THEM WARRANTED LAUGHING AT. Oh god guys, I was terrible. And in my head I was like "do I look at the camera!? do I look at her!? I'll look at Eliza...wait Eliza isn't talking right now! I look retarded! Look at your hands, Glennis... LOOK AT YOUR HANDS!!" It was ridiculous. They also taped part of our show so I think redeemed myself a little with that. Oh god I hope so. I'M SUCH A TARD!

Then today Marcy and I were interviewed by both Time Out NY on Demand and a Brazilian TV show (thank god the latter will only be shown in Brazil) and I again turned into a damn fool. A damn FOOL I say!

Stinky, Stinky Inter-Pew.

I blame being raised as a mute.

Oh man let's just talk for a second about how much I am enjoying life at this very moment. Sitting in my room alone, stuffing my face with beef gyro, watching Kill Bill Vol. 1. Could there BE anything better? I just danced for close to 2 hours straight (to a sweet mix made by yours truly, thank you very much) at DDPP and made a fool of myself on camera. Don't I deserve a little meat?


Hope you are all having a great Sunday. I'll tell you when the interviews are out, but honestly wouldn't you rather remember me as the awesome girl I am and not the creep I turn into when asked questions about myself?

Oh one last thing... when Eliza and I were shooting a bit for AOL's The DL I was trying to get people off the street to come over and talk to us (about what the lyrics to the Perfect Strangers theme song mean) and I called to this one guy and said, "Hi! Would you like to come over here and talk to us on camera for a second?" or something to that effect and he said no...then walked a bit further and looked back and said to me, "you are FRIGHTENING."

Sadly, I think he was pretty right on point.

And now, I bid you good night.



Friday, March 23, 2007

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall


Signs point toooo....



Now listen, I realize this post is like 4 months too late since the douchiness of Spencer came out a while ago on The Hills, but I'm at home and I'm sick so what better time I ask you?

The douchiness of this guy just never ends. But first let me say I feel a little sorry for him because he obviously put the wrong size dentures in since he has trouble fitting his lips around them.

(Ok that only makes sense if you see him talk...)

And the funny thing is that he's trying to get on the D-List (or trying to get Brody Jenner on the D-List by telling him to fuck every starlet in Hollywood - WHATEVER) and yet when I google image searched his name not-a-one-a-picture came up. PECULIAR! (I was hoping if I searched with the term "douchebag" 200 pictures of Spencer would come up and yet no cigar.)

Spencer once bitched some dude out on The Hills (yes, I am 14 and I watch The Hills, thank you very much) for commenting on his girlfriend Heidi's clothing at work (and honestly I'm pretty sure the guy said something like "I'm not sure that outfit is appropriate for work) and I mean he fliiiipped out. Pushing the guy and shit. Just a total DBAG! And oh boy I can not wait for an upcoming episode when Heidi tells him that she doesn't want to live with him. I can NOT WAIT FOR THA...

Oh my god. I seriously just spent 20 minutes of my life talking about retards from some reality TV show?

Yeah. I did. SUCK IT, BITCHES!

Now I'll pass out for another two hours. Sick. Hack. Cough.



My Gothamist Interview!

Hey wait... here it is!

Aww... I'm retarded :)



PS - Wait, I made that sound like it's just MY interview. It's me and Eliza on behalf of the huge conglomerate I Eat Pandas. We're taking over the world!!

Rock My Shoelaces Off!

Last night, after a looooong-ass day of work and an impending cold (I just sneezed) Miss Erin Rose Foley and I took our fine asses to the Path train, took that fancy old Path train to New Jersey and saw us some friggin Decemberists!!

Now, I've been a fan of them since my ex played Leslie Ann Levine for me in the car in LA. I made him play it over and over about 50 times (literally) on that trip and bless his heart he played it every time. And if you don't know, Leslie Ann Levine is about a dead baby. Awwww.

The show was right off the Journal Square stop at the gorgeous old Landmark Lowe's Theatre. We ventured next door to a Restaurant (& packaged goods...?) next door that was a bar upstairs which we walked through, walked down the stairs and came upon an adorable Italian eatery. Adorable like a rec room from the 70s. Adorable like the cashier didn't say one word to us when he sat us (at a table where the employees stored their crap - jackets, papers, guns). Adorable like everyone stared at us when we walked in as if we were strangers in this place. Well, we were. But honestly the food was great and as I repeated 4 times while eating, cheap. A HUGE loaf of garlic bread for $1.50!?! WHAT!? Where are we, Prague!?!

So after our delish meal, and after getting our tickets, and after buying t-shirts (yes ma'am they are adorable) we sat down and waited for the most adorable of sick and twisted bands, The Decemberists.

Now, if I wasn't in love with Colin Meloy before I sure as hell am now. The man is ADORABLE. In his seersucker suit and his glasses, talking about what a "rocking" band they were in. Joking around when his shoelaces became untied not once but twice that he'd rocked them off. I mean the show was wonderful. The best part was The Mariner's Revenge when the band stood at the foot of the stage and performed the shit out of that song - the drummer bouncing and jigging across the stage. And we got to perform, too! In more than one song he asked for audience participation which you KNOW I loved. During The Mariner's Revenge we were asked to scream when we were eaten by a whale and to our delight a huge puppet whale came out on stage swimming around the band members! (Somewhat like a Japanese Dragon)

I must make this post short because I do indeed have to start my day but let me just say that if you have a chance to see them in concert please don't miss it. I have been unable to go for years because of conflicts in scheduling and damn it...this was SO worth it.

And will you please have a great day? Thanks!



PS - Look out for my I Eat Pandas interview on Gothamist today! I don't know when it will be posted and I'll be away from my computer almost all day!! xoxo

Monday, March 19, 2007

St. Patty's O'Seven

Well will ya look at this here now. Another St. Patty's has come and gone and I'm still kickin'! What are the chances!?

I can't for the life of me remember what I did on St. Patrick's day last year. And I don't think it's because I drank too much. So this year I decided to do it up big Glenny Style (weird) and go all out. I tried to start drinking early but the closest I got to "early" was meeting Liz and Jeff at King's Head Tavern at 6pm. Bad, bad idea. I walked from my house over and as I neared the pub it just felt douchier and douchier and by the time I hit the KH we were in full-blown Fresh mode. I ducked in for a second to say hi to Ned (the 'tender for your bender) but he was so crazed his response to "how's it going!?" was "Sam Adams!?" Ah sir you know me well. Liz and Jeff showed up 1/2 way through my first beer much to my relief. It wasn't so much that I was alone just the fact that NO ONE ELSE WAS. Kind of an odd feeling. We stood and drank another round of beers and made fun of THE drunkest guy I've ever seen (standing).

(Side Note: I'm watching The Riches right now on FX and Minnie Driver just went to the freezer to get ice cream which turns out to be where they're hiding a bunch of money and I'm all dude I would never hide my money in an ice cream carton in the freezer because that's the FIRST THING I'd reach for if I was looking in the freezer! But then she takes it out and buries the money in the back yard so maybe she had the same idea...)

Anyway, doesn't that dude look like (as Jeff pointed out) one of those gangster dudes from the old Warner Bros cartoons?

The rest of the night was, as you can imagine, full of booze, songs, and of course the obligatory green wig.

I tooted.

I bought that wig a while ago to be a part of an alien band as part of the ucb show Sith In The City. I know the show had a lot of Star Wars references in it and that I cut our song off two verses too early. Eliza wrote this awesome song about Anakin Skywalker - so awesome in fact that I still remember how it goes in my head. I am humming it right now.


I wore that wig and the night was a hit. There's something about donning a wig that makes you feel mysterious. Alias had nothing on me that night. And so because of that I decided that this year I want all of my friends attending my birthday party to wear wigs. Imagine the fun! Imagine the pictures! Oh it will be a night to remember (and it will also be a night held at Planet Rose Karaoke so it will pretty much be exactly like St. Patty's. Except it will be my birthday!!)

At one point in the night a super cute guy sat next to Liz at the bar. We made eyes and were all "hi. oh hi. hehe oh hi." and Carrie was like "that guy is HOT!" So, being the Alias sleuth that I was that night, I timed my bathroom break to coincide with his and ended up in line behind him. I said hey and he turned around and we started talking. Bold moves for a bold wig, guys. Turns out his name is...wait you'll never guess. In a million years will you never guess what his name was. I'll give you a clue. It's my name without the last three letters. Yeah...Glen. So right off we see that this romance was doomed, do we not? The second sign was him saying to me OVER AND OVER, "you are so beautiful! where did you come from! you are so amazing! I want to take you home and make a suit out of your skin!!" I mean I enjoy compliments as much as the next girl but it started to feel like this desperate ploy to get me home so he could, as Liz put it, "put the lotion in the basket." I could just see this dude tucking his lil man between his legs and doing a dance to the crying game for me.

But, you know how I roll guys, I like attention and he was giving me attention and for a while it was ok. But then he started in with the putting his arm around me and I'd had just about enough so I told him to beat it. Nicely. Which for me is "beat it, shorty."

Luckily for us my esteemed colleague Carrie snapped these pictures of me singing "One Moment In Time." Can we please check out the CREEP FACTOR HERE.

"I'm sorry my friendship OFFENDS YOU."

AHH! Just looking at that picture makes me scream a little bit! Ahhh! I feel like he's going to come to life from the picture and stab me in my ample bosom! Here, let's take a closer look.

AHHH!!! Get it away! GET IT AWAY!! Make it better, SS!

Whenever I was scared when I was little I'd think of Strawberry Shortcake. Oh what like you're so normal?!

Anyway, the night was amazing and fun and Eliza closed the place down with me when we busted out our show-stopper Suddenly Seymour and then I peaced the eff out, ate two pieces of pizza and cabbed it home.

St. Patrick's Day 2007? SUCCESS



Sunday, March 18, 2007

Wanted: Personal Photographer

As anyone who knows me can attest I enjoy having my picture taken. I enjoy it so much in fact that Carrie was able to delete a very incriminating photo of herself off my camera just by telling me to pose while she "figured my camera out." Sneaky bastard! I specifically enjoy taking pictures of myself because after all who can capture a picture better than the very subject of that picture? Well that's what I've always thought. But now here we are, 7,000+ pictures into my flickr account and I'm growing a bit weary of the self portraits.

First of all you can always see the upper portion of my arm and it's never really all that flattering is it?

It is in fact an arm and not some random leg that found its way into the picture.

Second all my self-portraits are taken from and arms-length away therefore never showing my darling hips, delectable knees or perfect little feet.

A rare glimpse.

Third there are no candid moments. Even when I try to take a completely spontaneous photo there's always a little part of me posing it up.

Oh! You caught me off guard!

Fourth I believe that with a photographer other than myself there might actually be some shots of other people included. And I'd like that, believe it or not.

[Insert picture of someone other than myself here...once I have one.]

Therefore I, Glennis McMurray, am seeking an amazing photographer to follow me around to all major events in my life documenting each and every moment. These events will include (but are not limited to) birthdays, friends birthdays, shows, Friday night drinking, Saturday night drinking, Sunday morning sleep ins, etc. I will pay you in delicate kisses upon your cheek, beer and the occassional under the shirt boob touch. And yes, ladies, I'm talking to you too. You will be responsible for not only capturing adorable moments but making sure no incriminating moments are caught on camera. (Vomiting, making out with some random dude, vomiting while making out with some random dude...)

I must request you be on call for me 24 hours a day as I live a very sporadic life. Who knows when a pal might call me up for a drink? I'll need you to be there, camera in hand, before I get drunk and unattractive.

No experience necessary.

Send photos (of me) that you have taken (of me) to glennislovesglennis[at]gmail[dot]com.

My birthday is coming up which will provide a hefty night of photography for you. You might want to look into an assistant.

Thank you and I look forward to working with one of you!



Friday, March 16, 2007

Pray For Me

Here is a picture my wonderful lovah Brandon took of my appearance on Chain Reaction. I call this "Praying For The Poop To Pass."

I'm not 100% sure but I think this might be my least flattering angle.



Thursday, March 15, 2007

Perfecto Majecto!

I keep writing and re-writing this post and it's yaaaaawnsville. Who wants to read "we landed at an airport and took a car to our hotel." I mean of course you did tardo!

So here I'll highlight the most hilarious/wonderful parts of our trip to Playa del Carmen, Mexico.


This bar that we happened upon while wandering down Cinqueta Lane (or whatever it was called) turned out to be our best friend the whole trip. First of all they had karaoke. KARAOKE! Yes people this means I've now done karaoke on every major trip I've taken. In London girls danced around my ex while he sang Pink Floyd. In San Francisco my rendition of "Suddenly Seymour" with Eliza brought a woman to tears. And in Mexico, well let's just say the audience was mucho entertained-o.

Turn Around, Bright Eyes

Carrie and I made friends with the karaoke DJ the night before (as is our way) and when we walked in he said in the mic, to the waiter Armando (who, might I add, was maybe the hottest person EVER – pictures of his abs coming up), "I know those ladies… give them shots!" I had been drinking vodka all night but far be it for me to turn down a free shot even if it is the devils juice: tequila. (We were at Tequila Barrel. What did you think they'd give us?)

The final night of our trip was the greatest at TB. Throughout our stay there we kept running into a gal on her own named Summer and she's an integral part of the remainder of this section so I'll combine the two.

As Bananas As She Looks

Summer was in Playa for a wedding. We met her the first night there (well Carrie met her as I went to the bathroom) at the only place people really hung out, The Blue Parrot ( i.e. the bane of my existence in Mexico). We start talking to her, find out she's from Arizona and is there for a wedding with "a bunch of married girls who never want to go out" so she's been left to her own devices. We talk a few minutes more when she says, with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm gonna make a round." She leaves us to go check out the man-meat there and within 10 minutes she runs back saying "There are boys over here and they want you to come over." A little shocked, Carrie and I follow Summer over to a table of boys who might have just gotten out of college. They were nice enough, a little Summery themselves (our new term for douchebags - Summers Eve) but nice enough. Summer, the minx that she is, sees a dude we spotted earlier who we dubbed the "silver fox." She says to the table "whoever guesses his age closest I'll buy a shot." He was 45 years old and Carrie gave me her winning shot. We knew this girl was balls out but this was further displayed on our final night at the TB. Here, why don't I just show you.

One Tequila...

Two Tequila...

Three Tequila...


Hot. HOT!

And yes, ladies. THAT'S Armando. Ye-ouch. Those ABS.

Ahem... sorry...where was I. We made friends with the owner of the TB as well. His name was Shane and he made sure we were well taken care of. So if you're ever in Playa, in the mood for a hot waiter, an awesome owner, karaoke and some free shots, head to Tequila Barrel. You too might end up like this:

(I'll be honest… I'm a little remorseful those body shot pictures aren't starring yours truly. I'm just gonna put that out there right now.)

TULUM & XEL-HA (pronounced Shil-Ha)

Carrie and I took a day trip on Friday to the beautiful Mayan ruins in Tulum. They were gorgeous and it was all very interesting, but again… not necessarily the stuff of blog posts. The highlights of the trip were that our tour guide was named Gerry Garcia and was maybe the sweetest, cutest man ever. Here's Gerry; grateful he's not dead...

Here's a ruin...

Those Mayans were tiny!

Here's a fucking HUGE LIZARD...

Here's Lance Armstrong's package made out of Tulum sand...

Here's me enjoying nature...

A leaf. Cheese.

After Tulum we were taken to Xel-ha which is a huge eco park. Now let's be honest here people. When you think eco park I doubt the first thing that comes to mind is Disney World but that's pretty much what this was. More tourists who all look the same with their fat little kids. Everywhere. The reason we got so psyched about Xel-ha was, naturally, because they had unlimited food and drinks. Alcoholic drinks! Oh yes my greedy mouth salivates at the thought of anything containing the word "unlimited." Seriously. If someone said "unlimited kicks in the vagina!" I'd probably go. I'm almost sure of it. Xel-ha, overall, was pretty underwhelming. We were super excited to try this rope swing out and after trekking all over the damn place looking for it (with our swimsuits on and our moist thighs making enough friction to start an eco-park fire) it turned out to be a rope hanging from a tree over some disgusting, stagnant water. The kind of water where you can see the bottom but wish you couldn't. And the grotto… boy that sounds cool huh? Same goddamn stagnant water. I had the feeling that if we set foot in that water our limbs would rot off. Just a gut feeling, call me crazy. So, dejected, we walked back to the beginning of the river so we could take a "lazy ride" down it on inner-tubes. Nothing says "lazy ride" like having to paddle your shit down 2 miles of river in a life vest. We had a waterproof camera (the pictures haven't been developed yet) and I'm pretty sure most of them are us paddling for dear life to finally get to the end of that damn river so we could use our remaining time to get shit-faced.

We decided to eat at an "International" restaurant there (buffets are still considered restaurants, right?) and the food was pretty good! Hey, this isn't so bad! Mmmm…let's order margaritas.

And a shot!

Oh man this is the life and it's AAAALL free. I'm starving, aren't you starving? Boy I sure…


A bird just shit in Carrie's coke. Oh man, hilarious! We're indoors (though it's not fully enclosed) and a bird shit in Carrie's coke! We laughed about that for a few seconds and then hesitantly went back to eating. Bird shit is gross but free food is free food, dudes. I was determined to eat my weight in...


No fucking way! Another bird shit on our table! Right in front of Carrie! At this point we're laughing so hard TEARS are streaming down our faces. The families around us paid no attention to the two girls choking on free pasta at the sight of not one but TWO piles of bird shit on their table. I mean, come on. And I know this is going to come to a shock to anyone who knows me (and the little fat kid living inside me) but I lost my appetite. As did Carrie. We left PLATES FULL OF FOOD and UNFINISHED MARGARITAS ON OUR TABLE. Those dirty bitches ruined our meal!

The evil bitches.

But really it's ok because that was maybe the hardest I've laughed in months.

Everyone at Xel-Ha was super excited. Especially the handicapped...

And people who had to pee...

All in all the day was great. We drank some more at the bar and I took a few more pictures and we were back at our hotel by 6pm. Perfecto Majecto! Which leads me to...


It's terrible. I picked up a lot from Carrie and every time I tried to answer in Spanish she was so proud of me. We got hit on by literally every waiter at our hotel and on the beach and every time they came over to us they'd go directly to Carrie and start speaking Spanish. Tell me… what about her face says fluent? It was fine with me because when I did try to communicate with native Spanish speakers I ended up saying stuff like, "no hablo inglés." Which is actually kinda true. (and yes I literally said that once)

I got really good at saying "la cuenta," "no me gusta," and "hasta luego." Yeah, you're impressed.


Let's talk about the sad state alcohol in Mexico is in. To give you a little idea of how watered down the shit is - in one night Carrie and I drank 6 vodka on the rocks and 2 shots of tequila. And no, the night did not last two days. Add to that the fact that we had only a slice of pizza (amaaaazing pizza from Pizza Pazza – GO THERE) for dinner and los números just don't add up-os. If I drank that much in NY I would be dead. No seriously. I know you think I drink a lot but that would kill me.

BASTARDS! And those drinks weren't a few pesos either. That shit was expensive! I think most my money was spent on alcohol there and I didn't get drunk once. Well… once but it was at our hotel bar and that story is coming up.

One of the tequila shots we were given (by our bestie Shane, the owner of TB) was supposed to be done as follows:

1. Exhale all your air from your lungs

2. Take the shot

3. Bite the lime

4. Inhale through your nose

We did those steps exactly and when he said "do you feel it?!" I said yes. Guys, I lied. Just like Moralis in A Chorus Line… I felt nothing. I even dug right down to the bottom of my soul!

My advice for anyone thinking of traveling to Mexico? Buy a bottle of alcohol at the duty free shop at the airport and carry around a flask. Why we didn't do this I'll never know.


As I said before, The Blue Parrot was the bane of my existence in Mexico. This was for a few reasons. 1. The drinks sucked, 2. They had two different types of mysic playing on two ends of the bar so if you sat in the middle (where the bar was) the two conflicting beats will literally drive you insane and 3. It's the same every night and NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE ELSE. They draw their patrons in by having swings surround the bar…

Wee! I'm gonna crack my head open!

…and presenting a fire show at 11pm nightly.


It's all kitchy and fine but damn guys. It's just the same thing every night! Did that stop us from going? No it did not. We swung, we danced, we told people we were named Kate & Allie (no one got it) and I dumped buckets of sand out of my shoes. I think that's really all I have to say about you, Blue Parrot.


Now there was an interesting mix of men there. It wasn't all backward baseball hat wearing Summers Eve dudes. There were Summers Eves from Europe too! For the most part we'd make small-talk with guys and give them our fake names. We told a bevy of men that we owned a talent agency for celebrity impersonators and that we were in Mexico scouting out a Shakira impersonator. (Carrie… you are brillz.) At one point we were talking to a suuuuuper drunk dude from New Jersey. We told him what we did and asked if he had any good impressions for us. He thought for a moment and I said, "why don't you do Matt Damon?" So he said, "Apples. Apples. How do you like these apples" while empting half the contents of his mouth on my face. Say it, don't spray it, bro. Then he did an impression of Al Pacino that we're pretty sure was Jack Nicholson from The Shining. What a lovely fellow with lovely and abundant spit glands! Then there were the 14 year olds who got super drunk and tried to grind with me and Carrie on the dance floor. They were all arms and googley eyes. Bless their tender, underage hearts. I like men but I am no cradle robber, dears.

Now let me just talk about the man my Mexico eyes got googley over. His name was Charlie. Sigh. Charlie is a great name. Charlie was a nice guy who didn't try to force his tongue down my throat and therein laid the mystery. He was there with about 17 guys on a bachelor party weekend so you'd assume they wanna get their groove on right? Not so. They spent most the time talking to each other. Except for Charlie (you should know I'm saying this "Chaaaaarliiiiee – sigh" each time) who flirted with me like it was his damn job! Because my hotel never delivered a message that he called I will probably never see sweet, dimpled Charlie again. But ladies – my heart will go on. And, as Carrie pointed out, we really dropped the ball on getting a picture of him so you'll just have to trust me that he was indeed hot, hot, hot and we would have had beautiful babies. Sigh.


I was robbed in Mexico. Yes right from underneath my nose. Well… Carrie and I had been out all day and decided to head back to the hotel to sit at the bar, get a few ritas and check our email. I had spent a few bucks on little gifts for people including a $60 bracelet for my sister (it was so gorgeous and way more than I could afford) and a t-shirt for Liz. I hung the bag with my purchases in it on the back of my chair and I guess because I got a lil tipsy I left it there when I headed upstairs to pass out in our hotel room. When I woke up I realized what I'd done and went down to get it. It was gone. Sad Face! I asked the bartender if he'd seen it and a housekeeper and she looked around and found the bag. It had been ripped opon and the dirty thief had taken out the bracelet and the shirt (she was kind enough to leave me the shot glasses I purchased for a whopping $3 each). It's all so sad and unfortunate but made funny by one small fact. This was the t-shirt I bought Liz.

Someone stole a t-shirt that says "I Heart To Fart." I hope you are proud of yourself, sir or miss, whoever you are. I hope you are proud and I HOPE YOU REALLY DO HEART TO FART!!


Our trip finally came to sad conclusion and as we headed back to the airport we saw two more great things. One, they have a sign to let you know your status once you arrive:

And two, they make sure you know what this trip was really about:

Shots. Lots and lots of shots.

And now, my lovely readers, that concludes my wonderful and awesome trip to Mexico. Let's do it again real soon, shall we?