What is it with me and birds??

Seriously, is this the Chinese year of the bird? Am I working out some bad karma from a past lifetime? Is Alfred Hitchcock attempting to communicate with me from the grave?

First there was the drive-by vulture wrestling of last month, where me and the minion of death collided on a bicycle (well, I was on the bicycle, the vulture was flying obviously..).

This traumatic event has become such instant Cozumel legends that Rodrigo Rodriquez, who does the Living Legends on the Cozumel 4 You webletter wrote a poem about it!! (no, I didn’t publish it, it’s embarrassing!)

The other day, I was at Blu Bambu getting my haircolor totally changed (bye bye blondie!) and I’m standing over by the window, and I look up and screamed like a 12 year old girl. Literally about 2 feet away from me, and at eye level was this enormous albino peacock.

“oh, peacock, pretty..” you think. Not so. This was the nasty version of peacock. First of all it was hyperventilating (I didn’t even know that birds DO that) and it’s creepy forked beak-colored tongue was hanging out, and it was pecking at the window, like it wanted to come in and peck out my eye.

Katie (witness) who was with me tentatively tapped the window in a gentle attempt to encourage this freak of nature to perhaps pant elsewhere. No such luck, what the gentle tapping did, in fact do, was convince the disgusting thing to turn around.

Now, you’ve seen how distorted people’s faces are when they squish them into a pane of glass and make funny faces, right? Well, let’s just say that Katie and I got a birds-eye view of everything you ever wanted to know about peacock hiney. The worst part about it, because of the damn tail, the bird kinda got stuck, and the twist/mooning took place in slow motion.

“Eeewwww,” Katie actually said out loud. Unbelievably enough she actually had her camera with her and managed to snap a photo! The photo became incredibly important since as soon as the monstrosity tottered off I called the Fab husband, and told him the whole story, and he did not believe me.

It seems that there are some people out there who think that I have a tendency to exaggerate in order to make a story better, and the Fabster thought it was perhaps a large chicken or maybe a dove. And to all you naysayers out there, you know what I say? POPPYCOCK!

Highlights of last week's breakage, apparently...

I’ve literally been waiting to blog for days now. What I mean is, I must have hit the summer doldrums since literally nothing of note happened to me this past week. It might be a good thing, since I oftentimes feel like Alan Funt is hiding somewhere with a hidden camera as I carry on with the business of my life, crashing into vultures, beating people with sports equipment, etc.

On the TV show front, we’re getting better. We have an official set now, which consists of two chairs, and a coffee table topped by a conch shell and a melon sized crystal rock. Honestly, I have seen better stuff at yard sales, but it’s a big improvement after the bar stools. Apparently while holding up a menu, containing a panoramic photo of the Puerto de Abrigo marina, I also forced the camera person to do a close up of my cleavage, thusly inflicting “the sisters” into the TVs and homes of the innocent Cozumel population.

I continue to say stupid things on live TV, as in last week’s sign off, after interviewing Rita from Albatros Charters, when I said:

“Thank you everyone for joining us, I’m Rita and this is Laura..” People have been calling me Rita all week, which, in case you don't know her, is not such a bad thing, she's a super funny person and makes a mean margarita..but still, identity crisis much?

And for all of you who are waiting to see the trainwreck on YouTube, you might have to wait a little longer…..we asked what we had to do to obtain copies and were told by the station people that their DVD burner had broken some 2 weeks ago, and hasn’t been fixed, so they haven’t been taping any of our shows, and to the best of my knowledge, no one else has bothered either. Frankly, that might be a blessing in disguise. Did I mention that Katie has agreed to learn salsa on next week’s live show?

The Fab-ster had a tamale-lady intervention last week. Don’t get me wrong, I love the tamale-lady, and admire her business dedication, however, we are a home of 2 adult humans, how many of those things can you expect us to snarf down weekly? She obviously saw a soft touch in the Fabster, and was coming by every other day, so we literally always had a multitude of tamales in the fridge, not conducive to dieting, since I have a pretty good idea of who much LARD goes into making them. I finally saw no other alternative but to intervene, when she expanded her services to include Chicken Mole as well, increasing her visits to daily. I felt really bad, as I peered through the window, watching Fabs explain to the tamale-lady that he only had “permission” to purchase her wares once a week, for about 5 minutes or so. Sorry tamale-lady.

Today has also been deemed “Repair everything that is broken day” here at our house. This means essentially we both sit down with our cell phones and “remind” (aka harass) every repair technician, mechanic, and fumigator what they have promised to fix.

Here’s the list in no particular order: the AC in the bedroom (it’s not cooling as efficiently as it should) the washing machine (discussed ad nauseum here last week) the auto-start button on the scooter, the windshield frame in the VW thing (decapitation anyone?) the white fly infestation in my pride-and-joy jasmine bushes, and lastly, the microwave (only half of the buttons now work).

Come to think of it, perhaps last week should be dubbed, “The week that everything broke”..

A selfless shout out...

I'm taking a break from my usual snark and carrying on, to tell you all about my friend Henry, who owns a B&B here on the island. Henry has taken it upon himself, to gather together volunteers and go over and clean the beaches of Cozumel, as well as other areas that don't get picked up by the city.

In the month of June, they removed over 1,500 KILOS of garbage! They don't get any government support or funding, and they're just doing it because it's the right thing to do....

Please go over and give Yo Limpio Cozumel a shout out http://yolimpiocozumel.blogspot.com/, the site is in spanish, but once you see all those jumbo black garbage bags you'll get the idea. Feel free to follow the blog, leave a comment, or if you're here on island, get involved!! I know I will be!

Reflections from under the mountain of dirty clothes...

The washing machine saga continues. Our technician had called the parts distributor in Playa del Carmen who supposedly was going to order the part and have it ready Monday. Since it’s now Tuesday, the Fab-man called Carlos (of underpants fame) who said that he had a friend who could probably dismantle the part and re-build it. Um, why didn’t we do that in the first place?

The amount of dirty clothes that two people have amassed in such a short time is staggering. There’s sheets, towels, beach towels, and mounds and mounds of clothing.

Upon reflection I discovered that the Fab-man goes through about 3-4 fashion changes a day. First there are the tennis clothes, consisting of name brand, high tech, drip-dry fabrics, then there is the work polos and rash guards, followed by the relax-around-the-house cotton type stuff, which is sometimes even topped off by the going-out wear consisting of a Columbia shirt (in white or blue)and large oversize shorts with many pockets in which to stash napkins and beer tops (which is what broke the washing machine in the first place).

I, on the other hand, especially since I started working from this office (aka the back bedroom) can tell you that my clothes are broken down into two categories,; Pajamas, and outside clothes. Pass by my home any morning or evening and you’ll find me comfortable in PJs. In the afternoon, when I go and visit clients and generally make a public nuisance of myself, I’ll be “properly attired” (as possible for someone who hasn’t been able to wash anything in over a week).

It’s interesting that between the two of us, we’re going through about 5 outfits a day, and yet, none of them are especially state-side office wear appropriate, in spite of the fact that my flip flops are always color coordinated to my outfits….

Of undergarments and Television shows..

As I whined about last post, I was attempting to convince plumber/electrican guy to fix our dead washing machine. I had actually joked to the Fab man that when Carlos opened the back of the washer that all of the socks we had lost over the years would come tumbling out. What actually happened was way, way worse.


When the back of the washing machine came off, a blue and black striped Victoria’s Secret thong came tumbling out and landed on Carlos’ shoe. That in itself is mortifying, however; this particular thong had obviously been there for years, since, it was one of those ridiculously high-cut, 1980’s, purchased at the semi-annual sale, 5 for $40 bucks ones. In fact, it was so stiff with dust, large holes and grease stains that when it tumbled out and came to it’s resting place on Carlos’ foot that it retained the same mangled shape in which it had been lodged all these years.

I gingerly lifted them off his shoe, he attempted some semblance of composure and we carried on, obviously with the skanky panties forefront, yet unspoken in our minds, he replaced a belt, and the machine still doesn’t work. I’ve called him three times today and he won’t answer, I’m assuming that he’s experiencing some sort of mental trauma, and am thankful there’s no sexual harassment lawsuits here.


We did the TV show, and in accordance with Murphy’s law, everything went wrong, from start to finish. I collected our cute matching tank tops the day of the show, only to discover that they had placed the logo directly under our left breasts, not in the center as directed. As a result, not only was Cozumel 4 You not visible, however the cute tropical fish showed up on camera as some sort of displaced yellow nipple staring downward.

We also discovered 2 hours prior to showtime that we had no one to interview. Luckily enough they did score someone, however, they weren’t really relevant to the theme of the show, still they saved our butts and for that I’m grateful.

The TV station had a fair number of issues, including, they hadn’t finished our set, and made do with a slide projector and some bar stools. Have you ever seen anyone on TV sitting in a bar stool? That’s because they’re not flattering and produce all manners of slouching, muffin tops and other physical horrors. Also, slide projectors and TV lights are not friends. The General Manager/Show Tech was 20 minutes late, so our 7 pm TV show actually started at 7:38, during which time they ran Ricky Martin videos, so people just assumed they had missed us. Mics, batteries, and other electrical devices weren’t checked and sound and audio came and went throughout the show. It actually became so ludicrous that I actually laughed out loud. Ernesto from the Thai place was cooking on TV and got zapped my his hotplate, and HE swore on TV. After that it was a free for all and Katie, Ernesto and I hammed it up for the rest of the show. We didn’t get to the news portion, but we survived, and lived to tell about it, and there's no where to go now but up.

Lastly, today I stopped by a business who had enquired about advertising. I was announced by the receptionist, and told to go to the room at the end of the hall, which turned out to be the Manager’s personal living quarters. She called, “come in, hunny..” in a super friendly way and proceeded to greet me in her nightgown. It seems her close friend has the same name as me, she wasn’t paying attention and was now speaking to a total stranger in her undergarments. She carried it off with aplomb, and invited me to sit on her couch, and I went through my entire speel, all the while looking at her from the neck up, knowing this is how Carlos probably felt.

Stuff I don't wanna do..

I spend entirely way too much time doing stuff I don't wanna do. I like to kid myself that since I live here, on an island, hang out at the beach, have fun, irresponsible friends, that makes me hip, and cool, but the facts are, I still spend way too much time doing stuff I don't wanna do...

This week life got in the way of my life, meaning that I had to do alot of the stupid grown-up stuff, that made me feel irresponsible, selfish, dumb, and re-think the whole Peter Pan state in which I seem to dwell.

Sunday the Fab man went fishing, and came back with 3 tunas, my absolute favorite. When he arrived home, I immediately headed out for wasabi...in a torrential downpour. The Fabster, who is a reasonable adult, warned me about flooded streets, while I nodded vacantly and relentlessly carried on with my selfish mission. Did I mention that I had to walk my narcissistic self to Rita's house? to call for a ride? while clutching a sodden tube of wasabi?

That stupid little jaunt into arrested adolescence cost us $150 USD since apparently I didn’t get the amphibian option when I purchased the Mimi-mobile. Long suffering husband, again, just gazed at me plaintively as he shelled out the cash.

The washing machine, after years of mistreatment and faithful service on it’s part, also chose Monday to crap out. Trying to get someone to repair something here, is about as easy as milking a cat. It might be possible, however at the end of the day, the repair guy is pissed off, since the Fabster has gone to his shop 90 bazillion times and bothered him, the husband and I have already had a tiff about the associated frustration, and at the end of the day, we’re still drowning in dirty clothes. Today I’m calling a new guy, so the entire cycle can begin anew.

I’ve also got a new cleaning lady starting today. This, is, actually harder than dating, and I didn’t enjoy that and wasn’t very good at it either. I got the new maid from the Jehovah Witness Maid pimp, who’s the connection here on the island to good, reliable help. The Maid pimp is a necessary evil, since it’s really hard to find someone who won’t drink out your liquor cabinet, rob you blind, hit you up for a loan, or bring friends and family members for a visit while cleaning your house. Go ahead, laugh, I’m not exaggerating, I’ve had all of these things happen to me. I’ve also been forced to purchase Tupperware, Amway, and Avon. I’ve discovered broken keepsakes stuffed in sock drawers, mummified lizards under the sofa that the cat brought in, and even found a bottle of salad dressing mixed into the products in our bathroom.

The husband has been shockingly responsible. I have not. I’ve flown off the handle, yelled, screamed and made bad decisions, almost on an hourly basis. I really truly hate it, when he comes off as the mature, responsible one. Then, to make matters even worse, he indulgently pats me on the head, and claims he understands all the stress that that I’m under. Again, somewhere I don’t wanna bee, shew-vllle.