Hands Up!

Up there, that’s your proof that Zumba is Crazy Signs done at Carlos n Charlies or Senor Frogs.

I’m not sure why Tiburon was stuck in my head this morning outside of it’s a crazy sign and those always get stuck in my head. I had to look through a few videos to get that proof. I mean, seriously, if you were in Ixtapa, can’t you just see Jerry and Lalo up on stage doing this? (Or Rebo, Caro, Eden and myself) Along with a couple GOs of course. The whole thing reminds me of visiting a Carlos N Charlies in Cancun. Hubby was so awesome to play along when I went to dance with the folks that work there. I never mentioned anything Club Med to them, so they were mildly confused when I hopped right in and danced along with them. Too cute the waiter in front of me who kept moving my hands from his waist to his ass. VIVA MEXICO!! (A donde mi corazon vive)

I don’t know what the story is with this week where I’ve been having trouble realizing what day it is, but I do know that I’m not alone. A couple people at work have been having the same issue this week. This makes me feel good because it makes me feel like I’m not losing my mind, or if I am, I’m not the only one. I think it’s partially because my personal calendar has less on it and my work calendar keeps gaining timesucks meetings. I’m Rick Ross in this piece.

Let’s talk exercise for a minute, because, well, I almost always do. Today was a new set of exercises – back and biceps. You may call me Master P because UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNN! I know that I will be feeling that tomorrow. I surprised myself at the beginning with how many unassisted pull-ups I could do and depressed myself at the end with how many unassisted pull-ups I could do (that would be zero because my arms were SHOT!). On the up side, I’ve reached a point in the program, that, as of today, there are no new workouts the rest of the way out. All that’s left is the pain I already know, so there is that bonus. I am going to be absolutely smoking for this cruise and the first pic I post shall be me all ripped up in that motherfucking split that I WILL HAVE by then. Pardon my dirty mouth. I’m rated R for mature language, mild violence, and sexual situations.

You know, quite often I wish I had a USB port in my head where I could simply download items to make room for new items. Oddly enough, I only just now realized that I sort of do in this blog. Sorry that you guys are my mind dump, but it’s much appreciated. I mean, you don’t want to see my head explode, right? Ok, so don’t answer that question. Instead, go enjoy the rest of your hump day. Toodles!

Unintentional racism…

I don't know why I thought about this yesterday.

Probably because I was singing.  I don't sing.  Well.  I know it and therefore I don't torture people with it.  There are a couple songs out there that I can hold my own on.  One of them is "Contagioius" by my buddy Garen/Granian/Kill The Alarm.

So anywho, back when I was working in Mexico, I was walking from my room over to the bar in what I thought was solitude.  I'm belting this one out like there's no tomorrow.

Sidebar: First time I met Garen, a bunch of us were sitting around a room, drinking some beers and he was playing his geet-tar.  It's all well and good and I wasn't paying attention and I was singing along to whatever he was playing.  All of a sudden, he just stopped playing and received some questioning looks.  He said he wanted to hear me sing.  Um, how bouts no?

Right, so turns out I wasn't alone and some of my co-workers had snuck up behind me.  The conversation went like this:

Mexican Co-Worker 1: Hey Sunshine, I didn't know you could sing.

Me: I can't.

MCW1: Sure you can, I just heard you.

Mexican Co-Worker 2 to MCW1: Todos los chocolates pueden cantar.*

Me: Uggghhnnnmm.  Bye guys.

Only because I hold these two people close did I not kill them.  And more because I know that they didn't mean anything by it.  Honestly, I don't think they know what racism is, but I can look back at it and laugh.  But really, we can't all sing.

*Translation: All the chocolates can sing.

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6 years ago

It is 8:30 am.  Six years ago, in about 15 minutes, lives changed, lives ended, the world became a different place.

Ixtapa, Mexico

It's the end of my second "season" with Club Med and it's been a trying time.  While still adjusting to the CM lifestyle, I had a nasty breakup with my boyfriend of about a year who happened to also be my roommate.  Can you say uncomforatble?  The village is all closed up for the fall break, all the guests have gone home.  The only people here are we GOs.  We've been hanging out for the last week, cleaning and just letting loose after an interesting season.  Last night, we watched Armageddon

Today, I'm going home to Pennsylvania to hang out with my brother for a few weeks before I go to my next village, Punta Cana, to teach rollerblading.  I put my luggage out for the guys to pick up and I start to head up to the reception area to catch my taxi to the airport.  As I went through the theatre area and to the bar, I looked up at the television to see a building on fire.  I stopped for a moment, wondering what movie was on this early in the morning.  It took a long time for the reality of what was happening to hit me.  I dropped my bag and just stood there in front of the television.  Paralyzed.  Wondering how in the world could this happen.  Wondering, more importantly, are my friends in New York okay. 

The moments passed and more people began to gather around the television sets.  We saw the second plane hit.  It felt like someone was dropping bombs inside my head.  We watched as the reports came in that yet another plane had gone down, this one in Pennsylvania.  I scrambled for more details on that plane.  It went down about an hour's drive from our house. 

Somehow, the trance of the events was broken and I realized that I needed to call my mother.  All she knew was that I was flying to PA today.  She didn't know when I was flying or even where I was at the moment.  I had to dig through all of my stuff to find my calling card, only to run out to the phone to find that all circuits were busy.  I tried and tried and tried, but I couldn't get through.  I knew that I had to talk to my mom, and soon, to let her know that I was okay.  Not mentally, but physically, I was okay. 

I went back to the gathering of GOs still watching television to find out that the borders had been closed.  No air traffic.  Nothing.  There we were, some Mexicans, some Canadians, and a lot of Americans, shut out of the US with little to no communication with our family and friends.  A slight panic spread through the village as the word got around of what had happened and the repercussions of it all.  I went back out to the phone and somehow, luckily, I was able to get through to my mom.  She was relieved to know that I was okay to say the least.

There we were, about 100 employees, stranded in a village with very little, if any food remaining as most people were to leave today, with just each other for comfort.  Praying for those who had lost their lives and for their families and friends.  It was another week before we were allowed to fly.  It was another year before I found out that an acquaintance, Perry, had lost his life in the attacks.  It's been another six years and I still remember it like it happened yesterday.

Today, I give thanks to the men and women who serve and protect our country.  I pray for the families and friends of the victims.  I hope against hope for a time when there might be some semblence of "normalcy" in the world again.  Mainly, I just remember.

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DDT!

No, not the chemical, the wrestling move.

My job used to be very physical.  I taught little kiddies (and big kiddies too) how to fly through the air with the greatest of ease with the least amount of pain possible.  Don't get me wrong.  It isn't painful if you just listen to what you're told, so don't use this as an excuse to not try it out.  I used to be pretty buff.  I handed out tickets to the gun show every time I pointed.  I didn't get hurt often, but when I did, I reverted to just being a girl.

In an attempt to keep the peace in a class (on the ground) and to make sure that everyone got a turn, I assisted a little girl (who was not so little) on the static trapeze.  Said child had a tendency to not listen.  Of course, she slipped right off of the trapeze.  It isn't high.  It was about 4 feet.  Because it was my job, I saved her from splitting her skull and spilling brains all over my mat.  Unfortunately, in the process, the child decided to freak out while almost in my arms and somehow managed to bend my thumb backwards…to about my elbow. 

I refrained from throwing her as far as I could onto her head.  I placed her gently on the floor, feet first even, and then snuck into the back where I could curse this child and her firstborn.  I don't know if you've ever been on a trapeze, but suffice it to say that YOU NEED BOTH THUMBS!  A part of my job included putting on several shows a week, many of which involved me using my thumbs so this little booger machine put a hurting on me.

Skip ahead about two days.  All of the shows for the week have been completed and it's time to go out and party Carlos n' Charlies style.  The alcohol was flowing rather freely, as it did on most nights there.  I'll be the first to admit that I had my fair share (and your fair share, and hers, and his), so I was feeling no pain.  Until…

Brynn (a girl I worked with) decided that it was a good time to have a little fight.  I'd venture to say that Brynn and I were the toughest girls around at that time and there was a play fight or two just to see who was tougher.  We both knew it was jokes, never took it seriously or personal.  Mind you, I was more than half in the bag, but I think it went a little something like this:

B approached me in the manner of play fighting.  I responded.  All was fun and games.  B happened to grab the hand with the bent-back thumb and bent it back again.  At this point, everything ceased to exist except the pain in my thumb.  I now know what is meant by blind rage.  Everything literally went white and all I could focus on was retaliation.  Unfortunately, B just didn't know what she did.  Before Carlos, Charlie, our co-workers, and half of Ixtapa, I blindly grabbed her head and I gave her a DDT.  On the floor.  The dirty, dirty floor.  At Carlos n' Charlies.

Have you ever been in a nightclub and it just got quiet?  I have. 

Brynn was twitching just a bit as she lay on the floor.  People just stood looking from her to me and back again.  Don't worry, she was only slightly stunned.  She got up, brushed herself off, and we kept drinking.  This is the stuff that legends are made of.  I spent another 4 months in that place and it took at least 2 before people stopped talking about the time Sunshine DDT'ed Brynn in CnCs.  Ahh, good times. 

Miss ya Brynn!!

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