Spanx me!

Nothing intensifies a first date like alcohol... at least for me, anyway. Most people feel as though they've loosened up, are able to relax and can enjoy their first date after having a drink. I, however, cannot stop at one drink and end up dancing on a table... or even worse... with a welt on my forehead.

Cello was a musician. I saw him playing the piano at the Fairmont hotel, just for fun. He had a baby face, was super sweet, and not only did he play the piano well, but he had a beautiful voice too. I wanted to make music with Cello.

Our first date had amazing written all over it. He took me out for a nice dinner followed by a stroll downtown. He asked me if I wanted to shoot pool and told me I was in for a real surprise. I had never been to this bar so I was ecstatic to find a piano next to the pool tables.

He handed me some money and asked me to get the balls and pool cues. I came back to find him sitting at the piano, playing my favorite song: Ribbon in the Sky - Stevie Wonder. We had just talked about how much I loved this song at dinner. There he was, playing the piano and singing. Just for me.

I stood there, shocked, intrigued, grateful for his romantic display of affection. He finished the song, I kissed him. Our first kiss was amazing. We had a few drinks, shot some pool, and before I knew it, we were heading across the street to meet up with some of his friends. It was Salsa night and his friends wanted to dance. I was excited. I cant dance, but the alcohol had me thinking otherwise.

Before Cello and I could walk across the street, we made out like 13 year olds outside the bar. I couldn't stop thinking about him singing just for me. He was so sweet, so romantic, so wonderful. The alcohol, the singing, the entire night had me feeling love drunk. Me + love drunk = hot mess... but at the time, I had no idea.

We met up with his friends, started dancing, and were having a great time. I excuse myself to go to the little girls room. After all those drinks, I needed to make a deposit in the pee bank. I was wearing a dress that night, which means I had on my secret weapon - SPANX. I know, false advertisement, but with all this junk in the trunk, you should thank me for wearing SPANX to keep everything in it's place!

For those that don't know... SPANX are a godsend. They're like a contraption/corset all in one. When you pull them out of the box, they're about 43 sizes too small for you. With determination and a lot of bouncing, you maneuver your way into the doll size shorts and magically, your jiggly parts are safely tucked away. Taking SPANX off to make potty is easy. Putting them back on when you're drunk and sweaty ... disaster.

All I remember is struggling to pull my SPANX back up my giant ass. I started to freak out. I contemplated just taking them off and tossing them in my purse. But, being drunk, I figured I should just take a breath, relax, and try again.

I should never listen to my drunk self. I took a breath, started tugging, and out of nowhere, my drunk jiggling ass slipped. My hands were pulling my SPANX up, so when I slipped, the only way to brace my fall was with my beautiful face. But first, I hit the bathroom door. Dead on. With my forehead.

The bathroom stalls started to shake. The girls in the bathroom asked if I was ok. I was mortified. I managed to pull up those god forsaken shorts of death and tried to hurry out the bathroom. While washing my hands, I was trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I didn't even look in the mirror til a random girl asked me if my head hurt.

One look in the mirror and I knew my amazing date was over. I had a welt the size of a golf ball on my forehead. I had hit my head SO hard on the door that my forehead was red, bulging, and not first date appropriate!

I did what any love drunk girl would do. I found Cello, told him someone hit me in the bathroom. Then I cried in his arms. I made him vow to never leave me alone - not even for a second. He agreed. My hero.

Lesson Learned:

When wearing SPANX, cut a hole in the crotch. It just might save your life.

PS... don't cut the hole WHILE wearing your SPANX... take them off first. You'll thank me later.

Aloha Spirit

Spending 8 days in paradise makes you realize that there are some things that money can buy. For example, money can buy endless amounts of Mai Tai's while tanning on the beaches of Waikiki. It can also buy spam, shaved ice, and a bunch of souvenirs to bring home to your jealous friends. Some people use their money to travel while others spend it on designer clothes or purses. I'm not one to judge, especially when it comes to how others spend their money, but one thing I know is that if you don't have any teeth, you shouldn't spend your money on frozen yogurt.

I just spent 8 days in Honolulu. 8 glorious days filled with nothing but fun in the sun. 8 days of smiling or batting my eyes at some of the most exotic men I've ever seen. My one goal while in Hawaii - make out with a big Hawaiian man.

The first few days in Hawaii were filled with endless activities. I didn't have the chance to scout out a hot Hawaiian hook-up. Finally, on a quieter day, I decided to walk to the International Market to pick up gifts for my friends and family.

Shopping always makes me thirsty. I think it has something to do with all that cardio... you know: walking + holding bags = cardio. I decide to stop for a little treat - Dole Pineapple Frozen Yogurt. As I'm ordering, I see the most beautiful Hawaiian man I've ever seen. He was tan, topless, and had the greenest eyes. He was gorgeous. All he needed was a grass skirt and a stick with flames on both ends, and I'd be in Hula Heaven. He sat down right behind me, and while I was ordering, started to talk to me. I was too excited and flustered to look at this Hawaiian Hunk of love, so I focused on the fro-yo lady in front of me.

As I paid for my fro-yo, he asked me where I was from, how long I was in town for, what my name was. After the sweet lady hands me my precious fro-yo, I finally turn around to stare into my soon to be Hawaiian lovers sparkling green eyes. I smile. He smiles back.

He has no upper teeth.

By no upper teeth, I don't mean he was missing just one tooth. He was straight gums on top. Like a turtle. A big, tan, handsome, Hawaiian turtle. With no teeth. This was tragic.



I finally found someone I wanted to throw myself at and he has no teeth. Just my luck. I pretended that my phone rang, and walked away, quickly. I walked back to my hotel, eating my Fro-yo, wondering what I had done to deserve a toothless hottie. Karma can be a real b@$^&.

Lesson Learned:

Don't travel all the way to Hawaii to kiss a toothless man. There's a bunch at the senior center down the street just waiting for you to lick their gums.