I have had limited dealings with Mexico. They all involved a dozen girls who were about the same age as I was, endless cobalt blue water, warm sunshine and copious amounts of alcohol. Now I am ready to visit the land of sun and fun as a grown up with three kids and I’ve got to tell you, I’m excited. Having already received my State Department like briefing on the current political climate, abduction risks, vaccinations and food safety from my mother I began the long arduous journey toward obtaining passports for all three children. My flight and the flights of my offspring are being paid for by their grandfather who is the main attraction on this trip. He lives the life of Riley in Cabo San Lucas on the west coast. Every day he sends me updates on new ways to relax and enjoy views like this one. See him sandwiched between the two sets of boobies?
Since my fat ass actually caused a leg to break off of the chair I was sitting in yesterday (I’m going to check the structural integrity of said chair again, because I refuse to believe I’m that husky) a full overhaul may be in order if I expect to be frolicking on the beaches with Jenn Anniston (TEAM JENN!) and George Clooney. Although on second thought I probably need to find a celebrity with kids so mine can play with them thereby giving us endless common ground for lengthy discussions and providing the building blocks of the relationship we are sure to develop. SECURITY! Detach this commoner from my leg and sweep her urchins away from mine and into the Pacific.
Just the mental image of the pool people approaching me for my first Pina Colada order is causing increasing excitement. Never mind that two of my three can now swim and don’t need to be carried in my arms for endless hours while the sun beats down on my head, this is gonna be great!
Let’s hope this all goes off without a hitch (like my father having to leave the country mysteriously) and that soon I will be exiting the jet liner with three kids and looking for tanned and happy Grandpa. I can’t wait for the hot air to smack me in the face and welcome me to Mexico where I imagine I’ll be met on the tarmac by a Stan Ridgeway impersonator who will walk beside me singing about the wonders of being on Mexican Radio and eating barbecued iguana. Oh, Stan Ridgeway where are you when I need you? Because you know the impersonator won’t be able to put on that crazy voice you use.