So much to catch up on

We ended our stay at Barra de Navidad by reserving a table at Barra, a local dance club/bar where we rang in the new year in style. Tons of drinks, great beats, great friends. Strangely enough, there was no real countdown to ring in 2012 so we had to do it ourselves. It was as if the DJ couldn't be bothered to point out that 2011 was headed into the history books, what with all the body rockin' beats. Quick example of said beats: Slow build techno beat for a continuous five minutes followed distinctly by.... More slow build. When the '80s mexican remixes began, it was time to go. On the pat-yourself-on-the-back note, we closed out around 5:30 in the morning. That's how we do, homies. The place we were staying at was run by an elderly Canadian couple, one of whom was an invalid who slept on a bed in the living room and was content to tolerate us through Wheel of Fortune reruns and the world series of poker tournaments on tv. His wife was a strangely cold woman who insisted on force feeding us things we didn't want. It was odd. No, odd is too easy a word to describe their hospitality. I think the better word for it would be 'sociopathic'. But they were nice enough people, I suppose. For Canadians. More on that later. After that, we checked into the Tesoro Resort in downtown Manzanillo. The resort overlooks a quay. Or a inlet. Maybe it was a bay. I'm not quite sure what kind of body of water it was, but it was a pretty great beach nonetheless. The resort was an all-inclusive package that we hooked up due to being Hector and Jenn's wedding party. Free food, free drinks, free pool fun, free ass-kissing, free free free. The food wasn't bad (not great either, but I'm not picky). The rooms were pretty nice for being pretty old. And the water turned a strange brown mixture of flotsam after noon but, all-in-all, the experience was delightful. The wedding took place at sunset on the beach and it was a gorgeous event. The staff laid out white linens and rose petals and all the important people showed up. That night, we partied very hard. Over the last few days, I met Hector's very extended family. Cousins and aunts and uncles and nephews, oh my! One little girl in particular held a particular fascination with me. Her name is Kate and she's seven years old and is full of pure concentrated evil. That's a lie, she's really very sweet and she and I bonded immediately. She was the life of the party, out dancing all the grown ups and being just about as adorable as a girl like that can be. She was whip smart and funny and totally awesome. If I could pick and choose how my kids would end up, they'd be like her. The fact that I can't pick and choose is indicative of why I don't have kids. My luck, they'd turn out as troublesome as I was. And no one wants that. God forbid. One of the greatest moments of the night, however, came from. The sudden arrival of Hector's father's family, all the way from Guadalajara (almost a six hour drive!). They came in droves. They came with babies and. Babies and cousins and so many many people. Insane. I found out later that they hadn't been together as one familial unit like this since the last wedding almost 16 years ago. Hector cried. And we all cried with him. It was amazing. And, as always, we danced. The resort was very cool. But packed full of tourists. And, the surprising winner of the rudest white people at the resort were surprisingly not the fat Americans (they, on the other hand, we're actually pleasant most of the time). No, the rude white people award goes to the fucking Canadians (told you I'd get back to them). I've been to Canada a lot. I have family there. And every time I've traveled to Canuck-villa, I've always remarked about how friendly and welcoming the Canadians were. And now I know why. Because they ship all their assholes south to Mexico so they can infest resort towns to complain about everything and crack racist comments left and right to any local they encounter. Seriously. I heard some shockingly racist shit from these fuckers. And, of all the Canadians I met there (of which there were plenty) not one of them were kind or considerate. To the team of wake boarding diuchebags and your fat fucking nasty ass girlfriends: fuck you the very most. These sixteen year old fucks were the worst of the bunch. They say that if you're a traveling American, you should always tell the natives that you're Canadian to avoid the often well-deserved reputation of being an annoying American. But I'm here to tell you: tthose people are the last people I want to associate myself with. What a bunch of douchebags. Thus endeth the rant, eh? We packed our bags and are now staying at a rented house on top of a hill overlooking the world. There's an infinity pool that stretches out over a cliff and a veranda and an amazing view. Words do not describe it. So I'll post pictures instead. Once I'm back home. Speaking of which, I was hoping to extend my stay here a few more days. School starts on Monday and everyone knows the first day is syllabus day and doesn't technically count. So I thought I'd stay and soak in the sun for a few more meager hours. But alas, it is not to be. The boss called and needs me back. The dog calls and I need to see my boy and give him super doggie kisses and hugs. My life calls and I must needs answer it. It's time to get fucking serious about finishing school. I need to get on with being an adult and hanging around a pool all day isn't going to help. (if there's anyone out there that knows of a job where pool-standing is a necessity, please let me know. I'm really good at that job). Time to get back to real life. If for no other reason than to start saving tmget back out here again. I missed this. I think I'd like to do it some more. And maybe... just maybe... I can do it again real soon. Cheers, Dan 1/8/2012