Jamaican me work my ass off
I am going to Jamaica. Hooray! Let me tell you why…
[Scene 1 – At the Maxi Pad (a sweet apartment in the Pdot ghetto) circa 2001]
me: Sooo, that’s the apartment if you are interested.
random girl: Um, yeah sure, I guess. I start school in, like, 12 hours so this’ll do. You don’t look like you’re going to shank me in my slee-
me: PERFECT! I knew we were going to be BFF’s! I can’t wait for you to move in! We can stay up all night and talk, comb each other’s hair, oh and major tradesies for accessories!!! (squeals) This is going to be SOSOSOFREAKINAWESOME!!
random girl: Um, ok. So I’ll just email you about mov-
me (happy clapping and bunny hopping): OMG! We can watch Paradise Hotel and plan parties and make lists…and holy crap…hello crockpot Tuesdays?!?
random girl (nervously looking around apartment): So it’s just the two of us then, huh? No one el-
me (rifling through kitchen cupboards): I swear I had a fondue pot in here somewhere…
random girl (backing towards the front door): well, maybe I’ll just call you later this week. Or not…I’ll let you know…
me (yelling down the hallway): so I’m thinking the first night we can make prank phone calls, then build a gingerbread house, then have a kitchen dance party, and then…
[Scene 2 – Months later in the Max Pad; random girl now affectionately known as “Dudes”; has realized that we’re the same amount of crazy and it’s not just me]
Dudes: I’m bored. Do you have a boyfriend with a hot younger brother that I can make fall in love with me?
me: I do!
[Scene 3 – Somewhere else, years later]
me: Dudes! Section 12.6.4 of our masterplan has finally come to fruition! Muffin and I are getting hitched!
Dudes (satisfied smirk and evil finger roll): Excellent.
[Scene 4 – a few years later]
Dudes: The final step in our masterplan to become sisters is complete! T-Money and I are getting hitched!
me (brilliantly evil squinty eyes): Excellent.
So that brings us to now and why I’m going to Jamaica…to celebrate this crazy couple’s upcoming nuptials, of course!
And with that comes the burden of having to wear a bathing suit in public…gaaah. Those innocent, happy-go-lucky islanders will never know what hit them.
Me + bikini + rum + reggae + my uninhibited, overwhelming, drunk, sense of joy for my long time coming second sister/BFF = ‘make your eyes bleed’ sort of disaster.
So I’m doing what I can. Enter Bootcamp. And Dudes, FYI…I blame you. Instead of being able to just carry on as a plump, couch slummin’, Cheeto eatin’, sweatpants sportin’, ALREADYGOTMARRIEDANDAMALLOWEDTOBEDOUGHYNOW!, trophy wife – I now have to force my junk out the door twice a week to do burpees. BURPEES, people! All so that my own ass doesn’t eat my bathing suit bottom during a wedding ceremony.