Thursday, August 4, 2011
Charleston or Cougarton?
My manager and I, just went on a vacation together. I would like to say that it was an "all expenses paid" trip, but I don't make any money, so really it was just a "GIRLS TRIP," but we are in "business together", so I have to call her "Ms. Clowdus" or "Ma'am, even in informal situations, so it can get a little awkward sometimes.
Just for HER, I mean.
Okay, so let me set this up for you. Ms. Clowdus, tends to rope me into things by getting me to commit a little at a time, which is a KNOWN sales technique, and because I am a "fly by the seat of my pants/live in the moment" kinda gal, I'm all "sure" and then she gets on her lighting quick Blackburrry, and commits me HARD and FAST to it, before I can order another Amstel Light.
About six months ago, she suggested that I go on a GIRLS' TRIP with a bunch of our sorority sisters, and I jumped at the chance, because she said we would be on a boat the whole time, and I would get to see girls that I had not seen in AGES. Our friend, Suzie, is in charge of the vacation, and her in-laws had a boat we can use for the weekend at Bohicket Marina near Charleston.
A few months go by, and Ms. Clowdus and I are sitting around bullshitting on Cinco de Mayo, because we believe in helping EVERY minority to celebrate their heritage, (especially if it involves a revolt, or an emancipation. Bastille Day is Super fun!), and she informs me that the boat is not going to leave the marina while we are on it.
"What?" I say as I wipe the Margarita salt off of my mouth with the back of my hand.
"I talked to Suzie, and I was nervous about the whole 'boat thing' and safety," Ms. Clowdus continues, "and I also relayed to her your fear of Somali pirates, and she assured me not to worry BECAUSE we are not allowed to leave the marina."
This puts us into hysterics because to my knowledge, you cannot swim at a Marina, and I am calculating the temperature in July in South Carolina, and my imagination is running WILD at this point.
"Okay. Let me get this straight. We are going to fly to Charleston, and get on a boat for three days with five other girls, and we cannot get in the water or go anywhere?" Ms. Clowdus thinks that there might be a dingy, we are allowed to take out on occasion. We are holding our sides now, and calling Suzie.
Suzie informs us that we can get off the boat, and go shopping and eat at restaurants and go to the spa. The Captain will also take us out on a smaller boat if we wish.
So, Ms. Clowdus and I decide to go into Charleston a day early, because she has never been there, and we stay the night at the swanky Market District Inn. We went to this Thai Restaurant, Basil, which sounds like it should be Italian, but isn't, and it is yummy, and then we went to a Reggae bar, and had our Amstel Light "nightcap" at Squeeze, which is named so, because it is extremely narrow, and you have to turn sideways to get to the back where the tables are.
So, anyway, one of the things that stands out to me the most about that night, is HOW MANY times we were approached by 22-year-old dudes. I mean, technically, because I am from Kentucky, I could easily be their mother. What bothers me the most is that I hate how "Cougars,"which my definition is a woman my age, or older, who wears provocative clothing that she got at Justice, in the hopes of bursting some young fellas cherry, and she always looks like a surprised Joker because of all of the Juvederm and Botox in her face.
I guess it is just the assumption of desperation that bothers me the most. These boys suppose that I am not secure enough in my marriage, or age, or whatever, that I would JUMP at the chance to have "5 minutes in the closet" with them. All you had to say was "Girls Weekend" to them and they would respond, "OHHHHHH, " as they nodded their heads, looked at each other knowingly (like we were some "Ace in the Hole") and high-five each other. It becomes maddening to me, if I think about it too much.
My favorite line to give an adolescent boy who is trying to pick me up is, "Hey, you wanna take this on? I have three kids and a mortgage. When you mate with me. You mate for life. Just ask my husband.....Oh, and my kids all need braces. And then there is college. They are three girls, so there are their weddings to consider, but you might get away with two weddings and a commitment ceremony. The jury is still out on one of them.... Now, how attractive am I?"
Usually the cougar-hunter excuses himself to use the restroom and never comes back. Sometimes he even takes the Amstel Light he has just bought me, with quarters and dimes, with him. I guess my point is, that just because I am at a bar with a girlfriend, and I am past forty, does not mean that I want to pick up dudes. Maybe I just want to hang out with my Manager and bullshit and laugh, without someone asking me for a Popsicle. Is that too much to ask?
So we have a blast in Charleston that night and the next day, after perusing the Market, we decide that we need to get Bloodys, and oysters on the half shell at Hyman's. NO that is not a joke, it is the family name, and it is an INSTITUTION in Charleston. It has been family owned for generations, and one of the grandsons, who runs the business, actually stopped by our table to ask if we needed anything. I think it was because we were all "Cougared Up," drinking Bloody Marys and Ms. Clowdus' boobs were hanging out. (Just kidding, Ma'am. )
OK. SO. Suzie's flight was that afternoon and she informs us through text that "The Captain" is going to pick her up and then he'll "swing by" and get Ms. Clowdus and I. I am full on expecting Captain Stubing, at this point. We're kinda buzzed up on our Bloody Mary, which was a meal in itself, which I LOVE, and El Capitan pulls up with Suzie and Suzie keeps introducing and referring to him as Captain Kenny, and he keeps correcting her, and telling her that his name is Kevin. HILARIOUS. Suzie has not changed a bit.
I vividly remember picking Suzie up from the airport during college, and she had been drinking, and was "dressed to the Nines" as my Mom would say, and the staff at the airport was all, "BYEEEE Suzie!" as they all stood in a receiving line and waved in their uniforms. This obviously would not happen today, but we definitely have an updated system of airport staff flirtation , where they basically sexually assaulted me, when I was flying out of Columbus, because I was wearing one of my beloved "maxi dresses", and because I am a HUGE Cougar, natch.
So, Capt'n Kev, (pictured above) , is listening to me yammer on about how Cougars have ruined my social life, and he says, "Hey, at least they're still lookin'. " Which reminds me of how my Mom is always telling me that one of the worst days of her life is when she stopped receiving "Wolf Whistles".
To those of you not in the KNOW, "wolf whistles" are when a redneck in a truck yells sexual scenarios he would like to do to you, when you are in your 90's business suit as you cross the street to go eat lunch in Downtown Louisville. I was complaining to my Mom about it one day, when I was living at my parents' house, after graduating college, and I was working a dead end job at Taylor Building Corporation (yet another post I haven't gotten to) making oh, I don't know, yes I do, $8.00 an hour, running up their 800 number bill with my friend, Alissa, to supplement my income, and I had HAD IT with all of the rednecks in Louisville.
I now find them comforting, and enjoy their wolf whistles when I am at the park with my kids in Louisville, because apparently I am A COUGAR, who wants to jump in the back of their pick up truck and be whisked away to some dirty bar where they will inevitably buy me all of the draft Pabst Blue Ribbon I can stomach.
I digress, anyway, Capt'n Kev is pointing out the sights on the way to the marina, and we come across a Piggly Wiggly. Ms. Clowdus squeals, "Ohhhh, a Piggly Wiggly! I love those!" to which Cap'n Kev responds, " Oh, we call that the 'Poggly Woggly', because all the riff raff goes there, like the Mexicans, and they all touch the tomatoes and vegetables and shit, so I'll show you the 'good grocery store' you will go to, on down the road, so you don't have to DEAL."
Suzie chimes in with, "Hey, I thought your family OWNED a tomato farm growing up! What's with all the NEGATIVATAYYY?"
To which, Cap'n Kev retaliates, "Yea, they did. I'm just sayin' that I don't like my food touched by a bunch of people before I buy it.....not that I got anythin' against tomatas."
Sorry if I have offended any of my Mexican readers, which according to my profile breakdown, I don't have any, but Ms. Clowdus and I just HOWLED with laughter.
It is that moment where you do not know what to expect from someone, and then they offer you a large plate of sarcasm, and you instantly know that everything is going to be OKAY.
Cap'n Kev had a thousand other poignant quotes that weekend, but I am going to just keep them to myself, because you have to have something that is private in your life, right? Not to mention they were all either racist, or just plain FILTHY.
So, Cap'n Kev takes us to this famous tree, and we take pictures, and there are these local women there making baskets, and I ask to take a picture of them (for my blog) and they say, "What are you gonna use this for? I don't like to have my picture taken." and one goes inside, and I say, "Why? Because you think it takes away part of your soul?" and they say, "No, because pictures cost MONEY." and I give the woman a ten, and take her picture, and then we take photos of each other under the tree, while we giggle, because we are trying to pose in the vein of "senior class photos."
So, we get in the car and Capn' Kev has a basket, and we ask him why he bought one, and he says, "Because you have to respect the local hookers" and then we ask him how much he paid for it, and he replies, "Fifty bucks." I immediately feel like a heel because I took part of her SOUL for just $10 bucks, and then we accuse Cap'n Kev of getting more than a basket, because he opened the inappropriate door with his tomata joke, and he asks us if we want to play the quiet game until we get to the marina.
Well, first of all, it is not a boat, it is a YACHT! I had my own room with a Queen bed, with it's own flat screen T.V. and my own bathroom. We were able to not only take the yacht out, but the "dingy" we imagined, was one of the nicest boats I have ever been on.
The pictures below do not do it justice and, to me, they are amazing.
This is the 77 foot yacht, named "Uncle Buck".
This is the top deck we spent a ton of time on. At the bottom of this photo are the tops of the two loungers that Jen and I occupied most of the trip.
This is the front of the boat. Yes, that is a huge King Size bed inserted in the front. Christina and Tonya claimed that as their favorite spot.
This is the middle floor of the boat with the living room and kitchen.
And finally, even with all of the pomp and circumstance "Uncle Buck" had to offer, my favorite part of the trip were these people.
My advice to you today is to reconnect with old friends. I am not sayin' you bitches are old. You are amazing Cougar hunter bait that could easily get any 22-year-old you wanted - for the night, that is. But, who needs Cougar hunters, when you have girlfriends, Uncle Buck's yacht, fruity Vodka drinks and Amstel Light? Am I right, Ladies?
Also, if you are in Charleston, you MUST go to Hyman's. It is some of the best food in the city, and it has been that way for decades. The Market District Inn was awesome and has a great rooftop pool and bar. Basil is simply yummy and affordable, and does not lack atmosphere. Contact me if you need more advice on Charleston. I plan to do another post on Bohicket if my popsickle supply does not run out today, so stay tuned for unsolicited advice on it, in the near future.