So I met a Red Head...

And he was sooo dreamy. He was funny, intelligent, works with orphans, and, at the time of this blog's publication, had yet to fuck one. He showed me his left nipple and what it means to keep a tidy house. He made me smile. He made me laugh....and his girlfriend was pretty cool too. Sad Face should you ever discover yourself in the land of beer, cheese, and honey (seriously, WI produces a lot of honey) and want to meet Ma and Pa, tailgate at a Brewer's game, or need a nurse (wink wink hubba hubba), please send a messenger pigeon my way. Know that while the nuns have crushed my soul, like a tampon that has been in for a few hours, I would rip out my bloody heart for you (think of how different Shakespeare's work would have been if there had been tampons to use for analogies back then). What can I say, I am a hopeless romantic...

On from Sad Face, Maddy and I managed to catch the wrong bus but still got where we needed to go. On to Roatan. I decided to take scuba diving lessons while I was there and chose the dive shop strictly based on how hot the instructors were, which, of course, cosmically fucked me and I ended up with the 38 year old, overweight, bad tattooed, not attractive instructor - who, from the looks of his teeth is a product of some serious inbreeding. Anyhow, despite the lack of good looks, he was a good teacher. Mr.Bean was in my class; he's French. Let me take this opportunity to discuss a very important topic: the French Kiss. After one of those kisses that makes you wonder if his tongue wasn't exchanged for a dying fish I have decided that the kiss formally known as French will now be called The Belizian Kiss as I........love........Belize..... Back to the subject to get out of this Fish Fry Friday kiss I called in some huge wingman favors (that were the result of my spending TWO nights hanging out with Maddy's BD's boss while the two of them went boat watching). Like a true friend and apparently to rid herself of The Biter she faked an emotional break down that's underlying cause was her parent's divorce (earlier that night the cock blocker Mr.Bean had stated he would not date a girl whose parent's were divorced......riiiiiight....I won't date a guy whose parent's are sibblings, but I guess we all have our own lines to draw). Anyhow, we managed to, yet again, hid in our hotel room.

The next day to avoid the biter and Mr.Bean we rented scooters where Maddy promptly took out an islander, ruining the woman's promising career as a seamstress by brutally and intentionally assulting her with her scooter and screaming, "Jesus Fucking Christ you old piece of shit! Get the fuck out of me and my bitchin' scooter's way! God Damn fucking cobweb crotch old cunt..." While my virgin ears burned from such foul language Maddy sped off giving the poor sweet old woman the finger yelling, "Next time I am going to vote for Palin and we'll bomb the shit out of your island!" I was now faced with the hard choice: Be the nurse I am by stopping and administering CPR, or be a good friend and follow Maddy's trail of dust. For the record, nurse's don't take the hypocratic oath; thus, as I blew past the old woman I simply yelled, "You okay gramma?" She used her last breath to girgle, "F...U...C...K......Y.....O......U......" Unfortunately for us, this was Maddy's first hit and run and, therefore, she was unaware of hit and run etiquette. Driving a mere 1.5 blocks away she stops amongst the angry mob to laugh and bitch about how it was the grandma and her crochet walker's fault. I quickly suggested we get back on our hogs and head out of town. Maddy left whispering this promise, "I'll be back and next time I will take out a small handicapped child in his wheelchair and his brand new Make A Wish Foundation puppy named Mac..." The rest of the day was relatively uneventful with Maddy only almost taking out one other scooter...

So I've been holding my own for four days now which is proving to have slight disadvantages: No one to hold my pack while I pee, no wingman, and no one translating for me (I gave up speaking Spanish for Lent which has been making things slightly more complicated. Next year I'll just do like I usually do and give up Jesus for Lent). But I am FINALLy in Belize....sweet sweet Belize....sweet mother of god Belize.....it is enough to make me believe...well, not in god, but to think if there were a god he did something good - but every blind squirrel eventually finds a nut right? Ahh....Belize....