The Life of an Attention Whore

Monday, March 13, 2006

Cancun Chapter 2

"Yo necesito marijuana"
Spring Break Day 2


I woke up in somone else's room in a bed with three other girls and a guy...you know - the typcal Spring Break wake up. Quazi was banging on the door yelling for us to get up since it was Spring Break and we needed to get a sunburn as early as possible. Slightly hung over, and moving lethargically, we got ready and I went back to my room to get dressed for the beach. When I got there Mute and Food were passed out in opposite beds, fully dressed. However, the beds had been moved apart and between them was a used condom. Despite their deceptive fully clothed seperate bed sleeping I deduced that they had engaged wild, bed moving sex, and then got fully redressed, earring, shoes, belts and all...but hey...it's Spring Break...FUUUCKINNNG A!

I headed down to the pool with Shuff, Quazi, Thor and Solo where we staked out a spot and laid down in the sun to compensate for the 8 months of winter we endure in Geneseo. Despite being surrounded by three open bars (two of which were swim up) as well as three more bars inside the hotel, I don't think too many of us got that hammered during the day, and instead saved the full blown train wrecks for the night. That's not to say we didn't try since I remember having at least three margheritas, two rum and cokes, a daquiri and a Miami Vice, and still had no more than a buzz going on. Those damn Mexicans were just too lazy to put the extra alcohol into their drinks.

A while after I got to the pool, Mute came down and came up to me with a worried look.
Mute: Do you know what I did last night? (THE cliche phrase of Spring Break)
Me: I have no idea, I left the room when you and Food were in there.
Mute: I don't even think I kissed him and I woke up and there was a condom on the floor. (THE cliche self-doubt of Spring break)
Me: Yeah I saw that, that's not yours?
Mute: No, I woke up fully dressed, shoes, jewelry and all and in seperate beds. If I had had sex with him I would tell you 'hey last night was awesome I fucked his brains out!' and I probably would've passed out naked. So no, it's not mine. Maybe it's HKo's?

What would spring break be without at least one mystery condom? We went up to HKo and asked if it was hers but she denied it since she had spent the night in the room next door. EVK had spent the night with her friends down the hall. The mystery was solved, the maids hadn't cleaned the room and the condom must have been from the previous residents. I made a note to try my hardest not to get AIDS (or SIDA) from sitting on my room floor. I did feel bad though that Mute had picked it up and thrown it out.

Around 3 I headed back up to my room to take a nap so I could go out in full force that night. I lay out a towel to take a nap on our balcony, which was not the best thought out plan. Trying to get some quiet time on Spring Break is as likely as getting a Mexican to hold a job. I woke up to our neighbors yelling off the balcony, and since I couldn't sleep I joined them in harassing the people leaving the pool. At one point Mute walked by with a group of guys.
Me: MUTE IS FUCKING HOT! (Mute looks up, waves and says something to the guys)
Random Guys: HEY RISA...SHOW US YOUR TITS!
Me: I WOULD...BUT THEY'RE REALLY NOT VERY IMPRESSIVE
...thanks Mute, that's what friends are for. As my partner for the buddy system what part of telling strange guys to ask to see my boobs (or lack thereof) seemed like a good idea? Next time we're in a club and a skeevy guy hits on me why don't you slip me some roofies and give him our room key?

When Mute came back into the room I asked her how the beach was and she told me that she had met two southern gentlemen from Mississippi and that she had invited them to come to dinner with us. When they got to the room a little while later, I was rather confused about the gentlemen part as they were shithoused, touchy feely and impossible to understand. Southern accents mixed with alcohol equates to very confused Yankees. We went to dinner with them and while they groped Mute I tried painstakingly hard to comprehend anything they said other than "y'all". After dinner I sat with Tad (one of the southern guys) at the bar for an hour and started getting a little tipsy myself - and could suddenly understand what he was saying. I had found the solution for the language barrier...massive amounts of alcohol. If only they had realized that during the Civil War then they never would've had to free the slaves.

Around 10:30 pm Mute and I headed out to the buses to get to Fat Tuesdays. Slightly sober, and on a bus of people we didn't know, the two of us stuck together and anticipated our arrival at the club. Suddenly we heard what sounded like a dying giraffe behind us and turned around. There was THAT girl, the one who gets drunk and cries, even on spring break. Except in this case, there was no boyfriend breaking up with her, no "my friends ditched me", no Grandma Maude ran over Rover...she was literally crying just because she was drunk. As she drunkenly cried, and started saying she had to puke, her friends tried to comfort her while the rest of us told them to get her the fuck off the bus or get her head out the window immedately. (Rule #3 of spring break...don't puke in public). What kind of loser had to go home by 11 pm on Spring Break?

When Mute and I finally got off the bus at Fat Tuesday's around 11 pm we immediately ran into people we knew. We smacked into Crissy and Chelsea who were stumbling out the door. Crissy had her eyes closed while Chelsea attempted to hold her up. I hesitated at the entrance to the club afraid of what kind of madness was held inside that had caused two of our own to have to leave by 11. We entered the club, got our ceremonial wrist bands, and ventured inside.

Feeling pretty sober, Mute and I headed directly for the bar and then off to find the rest of the Geneseo crew. Being the attenion whore alcoholics that Geneseo students are, we found the Clios in a prime location on the rafters between the two bars, this way everyone would notice our progression from sobriety to inebriation. The combination of our location and my condition of sobriery, ensured that I was double fisting margheritas at all times, yet somehow I was still having trouble getting drunk. After drinking heavily for about an hour, I was starting to feel a little drunk, and joined Gingerale up on the top level of the rafters to dance. I looked around at the drunkeness around me and spotted our two dancing queens, Big Boy and Badnews at various spots in the club. Big Boy had once again taken off his shirt and was doing the helicopter. Badnews had gotten up on a stage, ripped his shirt open and was crazy drunk dancing with a girl.

Despite realizing that Geneseo was 0/0 for looking like normal human beings while dancing I decided to start dancing with Crispy, a Geneseo student. Being somewhat buzzed, I didn't notice that his hand was slowly reaching for my ass...suddenly, I felt the presence of cold air, as he pulled up my skirt, exposing my ass to everyone.
"Oh my god! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" to which he responded, "Just trying to get you to moon Fluffy." Meaning...he wanted to moon his friend but had to live vicariously through me? Thanks a lot. I was starting to notice a pattern with my friends trying to get me naked in front of strangers.

After that incident, I wisely decided to get off the rafters and Mute, Gingerale and I headed towards the beach at the back of the club. As soon as we set foot on the sand Gingerale declared that she had to pee. Wary of rule #2 (no defecating/urinating in public) we looked for a discreet place for her to go potty. Considering we were on a beach, we were lucky to notice an abandoned pueblo a little way down the shore. Gingerale ran behind the house and relieved herself of the 8 or so margheritas she had consumed. When she returned, she informed us that she had just peed on someone's house because when she looked in the window of what we thought was an abandoned building there was furniture inside. "Sorry!" we yelled at the house as we ran away. And they say American's aren't considerate.

Unfortunately for other people in our party, public urination did not go as smoothly. On another part of the beach Muccdog had similar dreams of peacefully relieving himself on a Mexican beach. However, after initiating the process he was rudely interrupted by an officer of the law, cuffed, and thrown on the sand. These Mexicans didn't fuck around with peeing. The only piss allowed to be excreted in Mexico was the Corona's and Dos Equis that we were drinking. Fortunately, Muccdog was familiar with the Mexican language and quickly explained himself with 400 pesos to avoid arrest.

Fortunately for us, Gingerale's urination process had gone smoothly, and we walked back towards the party. On the way we stopped on a small empty stage to rest up for a second. We sat down with the remainders of our drinks and I lamented about how much trouble I was having getting drunk. After finishing my 2 margheritas, we stood up and headed back to our rafters. On the walk back i realized that I had fallen off the cliff of drunkeness. While 10 minutes ago I had been complaining that I wasn't drunk, I was now fully incapable of walking and was stumbling like an amputee on rollerskates. Mute had to hold me up and guide me back to the Geneseo section of the bar. Her and Gingerale resumed dancing on the rafters and I sat on the side and decided to take a nap.

From what I'm told Mute and Gingerale spent a good portion of the next 45 minutes or so convincing me that taking a nap was not the best of ideas in the middle of a club. I agreed with them and would get up and dance, but as soon as they turned their backs I was back to my attempted nap on the risers. Finally Mute exercised her authority as the smarter half of our buddy system. "As your friend, I suggest that you go to the bathroom and puke now." Mute knows me too well. Generally speaking, I am an alcoholic bulimic. My disorder has nothing to do with food, but rather my consumption of way more alcohol than any 105 pound girl should be consuming in one night. Almost everytime I drink I end up puking...and Mute knew this. She escorted me to the bathroom where I spent 5 minutes puking and then rinsed my mouth out in the sink. "Ok, happy now? I need another drink."

By this time I was pretty much black out, and don't really remember the next few hours (or minutes) except for being on a mission with Gingerale to find pot. We walked around loudly stating "yo necesito marijuana" hoping that someone would overhear us and invite us two chicks to come smoke with them. It didn't cross our minds however, that the person overhearing us could be a cop. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for us no one took our bait. Also at some point during this time, Fluffy got hit on by a celebrity. The opportunity to bang a celebrity is an opportunity that few men would decline, however, these circumstances were a little different. D-list celebrity, Shane from the Real World was hitting on Fluffy first by coyly asking where the bar was when he was standing right next to it and later just coming flat out and saying "I want to fuck you." I guess reality TV stars aren't used to the mating rituals of the real real world.

Later that night I'm assuming that Mute and Gingerale took me home, since I the next thing I knew I was back at our hotel. Slightly sobered up (and by sobered up I mean conscious enough to remember things) I was disappointed that Gingerale and I had not been able to find our necessary drugs. The three of us sat in my room with the door open eating breadsticks when God smiled upon us.

"Hey do any of y'all ladies smoke pot."

Three, drunk, southern angels had been sent from above. The three guys strolled into our room and asked if we smoked. Hell yes. Then they asked if we had anything to smoke out of, and I began to rip apart my room searching for something to smoke with. What kind of pothead would I be without papers or a piece or something on me at all times. Apparently I was a shitty one, and didn't have anything to smoke out of, but I did have the next best thing - Gingerale. I told the guys I didn't have anything out of which we could smoke, but Gingerale was McGuyver and could probably make a piece out of anything. The guys were stoked and left to come back with the goodies.

When they came back 10 minutes later, Mute was passed out on the bed with her head on the mattress and the rest of her body on the floor. Gingerale was creating some sort of bong with an apple juice bottle, gum foil and a safety pin. Thank you Thurgood Jenkins. Unfortunately despite her best efforts, the attempted bong would not work. Suddenly, the wind slammed the door shut and then we heard a knock at the door. Shit. I went to answer it and one of the guys in my room hid in the bathroom. A security guard was at the door trying to peek into the room and saying something in Spanglish about us being too noisy and that he was going to write us up. I tried to explain in Spanish that the wind had slammed the door and that we were sorry. "Lo ciento. la ventana...uhhh la puerta...woosh!" (please bear with the butchered spanish spelling) Noticing my struggling and probably offensive use of the spanish language Gingerale explained the situation (in Spanish) and the guard let us close the door but hung around in front of it still suspicious of our activities.

Once the door was closed the guys explained that they had gotten in trouble with the guard the night before, and had to pay him off to keep him off their backs. So basically we were harboring hotel fugitives. To ensure that he had no reason to come back into our room, I wet toweled the door and sprayed the front of the room with a bottle of perfume. Meanwhile one of the guys asked if our room had a bible, and since we didn't he settled on a page out of the phone book to roll our joint. While he was rolling I asked where they had gotten the weed from. They responded that almost all of the cab drivers had some, but they would rip you off horribly for it. Since they were aware of this fact, they had asked the driver for some weed and then changed their minds. Then one guy distracted the driver while the other guy stole the pot. And southerners think New York City harbors all the pickpockets...

Soon after, we went out on the balcony to smoke the joint and then the guys headed out. Before they left, one of them informed us they had left us "a little something for the morning" on top of the TV. As they left the room Gingerale and I looked on top of the television and realized they had left us a dime bag. Screw Diane's guys, we had found the real southern gentlemen.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Cancun Chapter 1

"How do you say Cancun in Spanish?"


A Spring Break trip to Cancun is one of those College cliches that is defined by mass alcohol consumption and the resulting stupid drunk activities. Cancun for Clio, was both of the above with the added dimension of having nearly 60 other idiots from Geneseo with us. Surprisingly we weren't the drunken sluts on Spring break (no boobs were shown) but in our defense, if Clio's gonna do something we're gonna be the best at it, and the levels of whoreishness of the other girls in Cancun were so high we would've had to of engaged in group anal sex with animals to top the ongoings.

We (the Clios and Sig Taus) arrived in Cancun around 130 pm Mexican time after 2 long cramped flights from Rochester and Dallas. We went through customs, which was a joke ("give me your passport and press this button") and then we were out of the airport into sunny Cancun. The 20 or so of us got on the bus to head to orientation which was conducted by several sterotypical mexicans.

"welcome to Cancun...beers are being sold 2 for $5 to your right."

Well THAT certainly was the most fitting greeting we could've received upon arrival. Several of us got up and bought the Corona's (what the fuck else would you expect them to be selling?) and sat back down for orientation.

"okeeey these rules are like condoms ... nobody wants to use them but they keep you safe...FUCKINNNNNNG A!"

I'm not quite sure how to type out a stereotypical Mexican accent, but to get the full effect, just try and imagine that last statement delivered as such. I half expected the guy to be wearing a sombrero, mariachi costume and carrying a guitar with a pick up truck full of illegal immigrants behind him. After the incredibly informative orientation session in which they told us nothing of importance ("don't drink the water") and loaded us up with more wristbands than a hospital patient we were sent onto our bus to finally go to our hotel. Between the orientation session and the bus we passed a drug store which advertised Prozac, Vicodin as well as a host of other drugs that I'm pretty sure you need a prescription for in America. Apparently Mexico has a good handle on the regulation of drugs.

After what turned out to be a 4 hour bus trip to our hotel because the driver dropped us at the wrong hotel and then couldn't figure out where we were supposed to stay, we finally arrived at our new home, The Oasis Cancun. Excited to finally check in, after a hassling process in which random check-in fees decided to appear, we headed to the elevators with our luggage. I looked up at the elevators and saw my first example of Spring Break sluttyness...some girl in a thong had her ass pressed up against the glass wall of the elevator and was doing some form of "bend over to the front, touch your toes, bob your ass up and down and get low." This classy young lady would later become known by all as "thong girl."

We got into the elevator, being careful not to contract STD's from touching the walls and headed up to our new home 2527 in which Me, Mute, EVK and HKo would be living. Unfortunately when we got to the room our key didn't work, and since I'm a lazy fucker we had Mute and EVK go down to get the new key. In the meantime some guys in the room next to us came out and we started chatting with them with my favorite introductory line "I'm sober. I need to start drinking." This greeting is also known as the "rape me mating call." No sooner had a I said that then one of the guys went into his room and offered me a Strawberry Daquiri which I chugged half of before remembering one of the main rules of spring break...don't accept drinks from strangers.
Me: uhh, I just realized that I don't know you and I just took a drink from you. Are there roofies in this?
Put a check next to accepting drinks from strangers...stupid girl going to get raped behavior number one. Fortunately luck was on my side and there was in fact no roofies in the drink.

We eventually got into our room, quickly unpacked and headed to dinner, which was followed by a Geneseo style pregame for Daddy-o, the club we were heading to that night. After an hour or two of pregaming we all headed onto the buses to take us to the club. We later found out that bus fare is the equivalent of 65 American cents but somehow we all paid somewhere between a dollar and eight dollars for the 10 minute bus ride. Those Mexicans love our American dollars. When we got to Daddy-o's Mute and I somehow got separated from the rest of the group who had cut the line to get into the club, and unlike in Geneseo we couldn't say we were Clio's and get VIP treatment.

When we finally got into the club, it was packed and we had no idea where any of the other Geneseo kids were but we did find Food. Food said that he could get us into a VIP section and led us to the VIP bar. In the 20 foot walk from the entrance to the bar, I must've gotten my ass grabbed at least 10 times and was getting pretty ticked off at the skeevy guys in the club. On the other hand I was wearing a shirt that had to be taped to my boobs to stay in place so I guess I was asking for it like a wife who talks back is asking to be beaten.

After getting us drinks Food led us to the VIP section where he started tipping the servers well to get us rounds of drinks as quickly as possible. In fact in a ten minute period Mute and I must've done 5 shots a piece. Thank you to Food, because if it wasn't for him I definately would've had a shitty time at that club. Plus that was my first lesson of how to get by in Mexico...bring money. By the middle of the night we were getting 10 beers brought to our table every ten minutes which evolved into most of the Geneseo kids finding us and chilling at our table. Oh, alcohol...the Geneseo mating call.

Meanwhile, in front of our table sat one of the generic sluts of spring break. The girl was slouched on a chair with her skirt hiked up to her tits while a guy who looked like a body building midget with a Napoleonic complex was shirtless and grinding on her...or basically fornicating (Spring break rule #2 no defecating or fornicating in public). My attention was quickly drawn away from that when Big Boy appeared dancing on one of the stages, shirtless, swinging his shirt around his head. That was the first time I had seen him doing anything but giving people dirty looks at the IB door and denying ID's. Now if he ever doesn't believe me that I'm a 5'9" white chick I can remind him of his Spring Break escapades. At the same time, the AGC girls came around asking if any of us had seen Gingerale. Apparently she was wasted and had gone missing from the second they had entered the club and no one had seen her in a couple of hours. None of us had seen her either so they decided to sit with us for a while and have a few drinks.

Soon after they sat down there came the highlight of the night...slut contests. The large stage in the center of the club hosted a variety of competitions from the kiss contest...which turned into dry humping, to the banana eating contest...which turned into hide you boner, to the sexy dancing contest...which turned into dry humping, to the give Don Vito a lap dance contest...which turned to dry humping and try to keep your self from puking. At one point some girl put her shirt over Don Vito's head and shook her tits in his face...I literally ran to the bathroom and vomited. In one of the contests I recognized ThongGirl and realized I was going to be unwillingly subjected to images of her ass for the rest of my break.

After the contests, the club started to die down and Lunchlady and I wanted to leave to go find Quazi. I looked around for Mute but she was nowhere to be found and neither was Food. After searching for a while I realized they were probably together. Thor and I left to try to find Quazi at one of the bars next door. The first bar we walked into Thor and I were immediately greeted with "I give you shots. You dance on bar." hmm...I'm wearing a miniskirt, and will be elevated above every guy in the bar...I think we're gonna have to pass on that one. We bolted from there and headed into the next bar over. After having a few drinks there, stumbling around and having my ass grabbed a few more times we headed out and tried to figure out where our hotel was.

Being drunk and in a foreign country, we decided the best way to get home was the same way we got home in Geneseo...stumbling and walking and hoping for the best. One of us eventually got the sense to ask "Donde esta Oasis Cancun?" to which the guy responded "10 minute car ride from here." By our calculations we figured that meant we should probably take a bus, then realized we had no idea how to go about doing that, and tried to hail a taxi instead. Correction, the taxis tried to hail us. Again, Mexicans are big on money so they would go out of their way to see if anyone drunk and walking would need a ride. Kind of like the sexual predators of the transportation world.

Trying not to seem like too much of tourists (though I don't know how many Mexicans are blonde or asian and only speak English) Thor tried to haggle with the cab drivers. "I have Seis Dollar-es!" Most of the drivers looked at us like we were insane and drove away. Eventually one guy agreed to drive us back for the 6 dollars and we hopped in the back of the cab. In the process of getting into the back of the cab I suddenly heard "OW!" Thor had forgotten to remove her foot from the door before closing it. And people wonder why drunks get such a bad rep. On the ride back Thor started to tell the driver her life history and about how her brother in law is puerto rican...which has no similarity to Mexicans except that they both speak a form of Spanish. However, her Spanish isn't very good so she ended up telling him that her husband was Puerto Rican instead. At the same time I was telling him that I didn't speak Spanish at all and that I could only speak a little French, and continued to speak in French for the rest of the ride back. When we got to the hotel I handed the driver a $20 and he gave me $10 back saying that he didn't have change. Those sheisty bastards. Then again, we had said that we only had $6 so I guess we're the shady American's trying to keep the drivers from earning an "honest" living in which they rip off tourists.

When I got back to the hotel I went up to my room to look for Mute, but she was nowhere to be found so I headed down to the 2nd floor to hang with the other Geneseo kids. Thor and I checked Food's room for Mute and then decided to look to see if Quazi was back. When we got to the room where Quazi and her boyfriend were staying, we found Sloth curled up in one of the other beds spooning with an unidentified lady. She had a hot rectangular figure, smooth plastic skin, and a plastic bag protecting her insides. He looked so adorable cuddling with the garbage can. We later found out that he had walked home which is pretty smart considering how much we had already been ripped of by Mexican transportation. Thor, Fluffy and I decided to sit on the balcony and watch the drunk people pour into the hotel. Eventually we saw Food get out of a cab alone.
Me: FOOD! WHERE'S MUTE? I THINK WE LOST HER AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH YOU
Food: I lost my sunglasses!
Thor: Way to care about the person.
A few minutes later Mute rolled up in a cab and I ran down to meet her. She had also lost everyone and we decided we needed a better buddy system.

Speaking of getting lost and the buddy system, it turns out that Gingerale had wandered off by herself and was found later on in the night drunkenly dancing and making out with a random guy on the stage at Daddy-o's. When people tried to retrieve her she was dancing so emphatically that she knocked the both of them off the stage. In another part of Cancun, Solo, true to her name had wandered off by herself and gotten lost. When she hailed a cab home she then realized she didn't have any money and had to run through the hotel crying and try to find $15 for the cab ride home. I think we all needed better buddy systems.