Oh, so you liked my little adventure in the rain forest, huh? Well, that was just a short period of time in what seemed like an endless vacation.

I’m going to do my best to recount the rest of that adventure but like I stated before, I put the “art” in party so if you’re going to judge me and give me anxiety attacks, bugger off.

All I can do is flash forward to being lost in a sea of Mexican’s at their Mardi Gras-like celebration. I don’t remember the ride back to my friend’s apartment after leaving the island we found, I don’t remember the decision that was made (by me?) to go out to party, I just remember being in a sea of happy faces.

From those faces shined another familiar face. It was a beaming red-haired guy we met on our flight down from NY to wherever the hell I was in Mexico. Being that we were the only American’s in the entire town, it was fairly easy to spot one another.

So we drank. We smoked. I was Mary, er, I mean Merry.

I know I threw some sort of “take me to a bar” fit, because I prefer bars over any other kind of social gathering, so to a bar we went. I think. Yeah. I remember dancing and beer.

The next thing I know, I was sitting in the back of a convertible with about 5 total strangers driving to an undetermined location. I remember being the one who did the movie star sitting on the back so I’m way up in the air thing and waving at my incredulous friends as I drove by.

Looking back, I can’t believe the combination of confidence and stupidity I had. To my credit, I was and am trained in the art of protecting myself. I got my ass kicked one time and I can personally guarantee you that will never happen again so I just don’t see why I can’t do something simply because I’m female.

I can’t tell you for sure, but I’m assuming my friends hopped in a cab and did a “follow that car” deal because I remember being on a rooftop with a bunchof super nice locals who kept saying “We like joo, because joo are Blonde” over and over when my friends came tearing on in to claim me.

Well, I say claim me, but what they really did was sit down and crack some beers with me and my new local pals.

I wish I could say more about this vacation. There was dining, drinking and dancing. I think I took some pictures but this was before the digital age, so who knows where they’re floating around.

I remember leaving Mexico with my best buddy. I don’t really recall the ride to the airport or saying goodbye to our friends, but I feel like I remember going through customs. Problem is, I’ve traveled to so many places, they all run into each other.

I suppose part two of my Mexico story isn’t as exciting as the first with my rain forest journey, but believe me, I’ve got dozens more to tell. As long as you don’t judge my past behavior (because I misbehaved to extents I’m debating publishing), I’ll continue to tell you my tales. If you do judge me, I’m just going to delete your comment before anyone can read it, because leaving a mean comment is a super douchey move, especially when you lack the balls to leave your name. *ahem*

I’m trying to decide what story to tell next. Stories where I’ve been partying with WWE wrestlers in Cleveland, sleeping in a SUV in Hawaii or making out next to an Alaskan glacier.

I’ve had to call American Embassies from Venezuela during a country-wide strike so my family knew I had survived and I’ve pole danced (fully clothed) in a cage at an exclusive club in San Francisco.

I’ve been given diamond earrings in small Mexican villages by poor and grateful waitresses and beads of thanks in the Virgin Islands because I was kind to strangers. Now, I’m in Chicago showing some Mommy Bloggers how it’s done.

My best friends often say drama follows me, but I like to think of it as adventure. Sure, there’s some negativity in life, but from that comes learning and so much more often this drama becomes excitement that is what makes life worth writing about. I love the life I live and I’m proud to share this life with all of you. Alaska, I should tell Alaska next. Word of warning: it’s a dirty one

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