Sang Som Blue (Everybody Drinks One…)

More bullets.  Points!  Punctuation, not gun-ctuation… I always say.  Kind of. 

Kind of never.

Regardless, I want to do more bullet points because I spent the entire day at the beach and didn’t have the kinds of thoughts that form paragraphs.


1) Wench-worthy, salt blonde, number one awesome ringlets.  I love ocean hair, and I’m celebrating its presence with Sang Som, which I assume is the kind of rum labeled triple-x in a barrel.  I’m all about triple-x this trip.

2) The temperature of the water, and how I can frolic in it. 

3) That my facial monkey scratch is still visible.  I hope I get a cool scar to go with my cool story! 

4) The fantasy I had today about meeting Ricky Gervais and not knowing who he was, and he called me arrogant- which I deserved- and I said “no- I used to be conceited… but now I’m perfect” which he loved, and then we became friends and I told him that I liked it when he rode in a car with Jerry Seinfeld. 

5) How so many people look like the ethnic version of a celebrity or someone I know, like Thai Steve Buscemi and Japanese, mentally handicapped Corson.  (Don’t tell him but it was the weirdest thing seeing this kid in school.  I would actually instinctively recoil when we made eye contact because it was like some changeling nightmare.)

6) The way Thai Negi giggled at me without elaborating when I ordered two more rums.

7) Adorable French toddlers speaking adorable Parisian French in their adorable voices.  If I ever do have kids, I definitely want foreigners.  But with my brain.  Most of it. 

8) Speaking of foreigners, I also like the f-bombing ones.  I like how charming it is that they can put all those vowel sounds in there.


1) All the people speaking accented English, because it makes things so much easier that so many people learned the only language I speak, which makes me feel horrible ancestral guilt for all the English colonization and slavery and stuff.  Pleasure conundrum.

2) How everyone keeps asking if I’m alone.  Not because I’m sad by it, because for this vacation, it’s pretty much perfect.  But because I think that every time someone asks, he thinks of me as vulnerable dumb lady, and I feel like there’s going to be a rape chase or burgle attempt.  And then there’s the waiter next door, who’s obsessed with America and took my aloneness as an invitation to never stop talking to me and then ask me for drinks.  I think he wants to move in with me and make me his green card wifey, and no way, and I take it back about the foreign babies.

3) There’s rampant elephant abuse here and that makes me really sad because I want to ride one but I don’t want to encourage that sort of assholery.  Ever since Sister Patricia taught me how to spell elephant (and W-A-R) I’ve thought they were special, and it saddens me that we’re being humanly bratty toward them.

4) Internationals here are like sooooooooo skinny.  And the reason it’s annoying is that maybe it’s normal and Americans are just the second fattest country, so I’m used to it, or perhaps excessive amounts of people just have eating disorders.  I guess I don’t know whether to be proud of them for being healthy or sorry for them for not.

5) Crabs are delicious but require a LOT of breaking of exoskeletons!  The next time I have to work that hard for food, it’s going to be the apocalypse. 

That is all.




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