March 20

Well I have not blogged in for ever so I need to catch everyone up. Through the God awful month of February- when temperatures hit a balmy -36 degrees Celsius (before windchill) we planned a trip to Mexico (more on that in a minute). Now I know there is this rumour that hell is hot. Well I am here to dispel that rumour. Hell is -42 degrees with a healthy wind from the North. Satan wears Sorels and has Hot Pockets in his mittens. Satan giggles when people slip on the ice and he roars with laughter when we shovel. He is a bastard. 

Anyway, we booked Mexico because Darren and Jennifer generously bought a house in Mexico and they were gracious enough to invite us to their home, which is fairly ironic because I live beside them and all Darren ever says to me, “Jesus Christ, why don’t you go home?!” Anyway flights booked and then you know that means? Ladies you know what this means.....booking a trip to get waxed. Lord have mercy, I think I’m changing my mind. Satan rips the hair out of your legs with a wax strip. While I’m laying on that bed, trying to convince myself that having smooth legs is the only thing separating me from a Kardashian, I curse the 20-something, fresh faced girl ripping my hair out. She has no idea the hell I’ve lived. I try to remember the pain I felt when I was going through childbirth to put this pain in context but, nope, this is pretty fucking bad. So waxing done, new swimsuit bought, bags packed, house sitter organized and we’re off. 

We spent the night at the Marriott at the airport discussing our first battle - we reserved seats (of course, nothing is free it cost us - collectively- $210) only to discover that we were split up. The Ingham’s and Williams’ were in the back forty - row 28 - basically on the tail of the plane and the Walisser’s were in row 10 but in seats A and F. When we checked in in the morning the very unhelpful, unimpressed West Jet lady basically told us to fuck off when we expressed our displeasure - she also rolled her eyes when she saw Jen was bringing her own martini glasses. So we get on the plane to find a 23 month old snot machine sitting behind us. It was going to be a long flight. Brian had already ordered a double rum before the plane had reached flying altitude. 

Made it Cancun and to be perfectly honest - the kid was really good. Nothing stress me out more than waiting for my luggage on that bloody carousel. I’m always convinced my luggage has gone east when I go west. So while we wait and wait and wait. Brian’s suitcase was the very last one to come out and it as accompanied by 2 security guards that immediately escorted him to a room to search him.  So we did what all good friends would do. We left him. 

We did start to get concerned when, after 10 minutes, we were still waiting. The struggle was real. Do we totally abandon him for a ice cold margarita or do we continue to wait. I’ve got to tell you the vote was close. Finally we saw him emerge dragging his suitcase behind him and he was ready for a beer. He had packed poker chips in the metal case in his suitcase. Apparently this raised every red flag in Mexico. 

So we make it Raulsaturnino. Ya that’s right that was his name. We called him Raul. I called him “Canihaveanotherbeer” or “Canwestopforapee” he seemed to answer to that as well. But that’s enough for now....more to follow.