Just A Typical Weekend in South Beach

A few days ago, I wrote a top 10 list of my favorite things in Miami. I though this would be a nice preface to go along with it, but it seems to have turned into it's very own post. I'll post the top 10 later in the week.

I know you've heard my crazy stories about some of the events that go down in my South Beach neighborhood. I don't know if I'm just getting better at tuning everything out, or maybe things have just been calmer. Either way, the 'calm' came to a screeching halt over the weekend. It started Saturday morning with the return of the phantom shitter. I've yet to post about it, but there is an individual, out and about in South Beach, who likes to take a crap while propped up against the pillars of our open, ground level, parking garage. Really, there is nothing more horrifying than coming across a fresh pile of human turd at 8:30 on a very warm Saturday morning.

Saturday night we had dinner with a of friends. Sunday morning one of them called me with a called me, totally traumatized, with a crazy story to boot. Just three blocks away from our humble abode, there was a report of gunfire in an apartment. The street was shut down, and the building was surrounded by the police. The SWAT team and hostage negotiators were also present. It turned out that a gun had been fired in the apartment in question, but the tenants left before the police arrived. The activity kept my friend up half the night, but luckily no one was hurt.

Not feeling too well, I spent Sunday afternoon trying to read a book. The afternoon was filled with loud motorcycles, screeching tires and the endless drone of booming bass from the cars passing by. Once the sun went down, things really picked up, complete with sirens and helicopters circling above. Something went down at the end our our street, and there seemed to be a manhunt or search taking place. Every few minutes, the search light from the helicopter hovering above, would again swipe our building. After about 45 minutes, it suddenly ended. I checked the news last night, and the paper this morning, and there is no mention of a manhunt on the beach, which led me to believe that perhaps I imagined the whole thing. Fortunately, my boyfriend was able to confirm that it was real.

The night ended with a flasher. As I was walked out onto the balcony, before shutting the apartment up for the night, the sidewalk below was filled with late diners and early club goers. Things seemed calm again, and all was well. I noticed two girls walking down the sidewalk. As soon as they passed the alley, they started running and screaming. It turns out there was a naked man in the alleyway, who flashed them. Now I'm wondering if the flasher and the shitter are one in the same.

I Forgot to Call In Sick

Today was Bring Your Brat to Work Day. Ugh. Not only do people want you to look at their kids and make comments (lie) about how cute and clever they are, but then you have to deal with water fights in the bathrooms, French fries on the floor, and the aftermath of sugar induced psychosis. Yes, I hate this day. After lunch, I had four children in some kind of conga line formation, come up behind me and scream. Apparently the company sponsored activities last all of 45 minutes, and begin and end with cake. WTF?

To make matters worse, some idiotic stranger had the nerve to ask me where my babies were. I told him that my babies were invisible and mute. He failed to find the humor in that. Loser.

Though I'm not really a fan of the child, I can't help but miss my 10 year old partner in crime. She's my first cousin and lives in Arizona. She's a rough and tumble little gal, who would and could kick the asses of any of the neurotic little twits that took over my space today.

Girls On Planes

So, there's this phenomenon that usually takes place when I'm on my way to Utah. The phenomenon is the actual flight from connecting city (Chicago, Houston, Dallas) to Salt Lake.

This flight always reminds me why I left Utah, and usually makes me regret my decision to visit. My flightmates consist of screaming children and members of the bishopric, who talk in that drippy priesthood holder voice. They are the type of dudes who actually say, "I concur," in casual conversation. The other person on this flight is the Mormon mom. She has the same haircut as her 17 year old daughter, wears rubber Mary Janes, and has at least one son who is serving a mission. She likes to talk about scrapbooking, her testimony, and says "fer neat" a lot.

When I flew to Utah last Tuesday, the only reminder I had that I was flying to Utah was when someone a few rows behind me vomited, and a woman, with a hardcore West Valley City twang, shouted out "Ya guys need to get barf bags on this plane."

On they way back to Miami, I had to fly to Las Vegas, where I caught a direct flight to Miami. The flight from Salt Lake to Las Vegas could have been one of the best flights ever. After boarding, the two girls behind me started talking. They had both gone to visit their boyfriends in Utah, and they had both been dumped while they were there. These two were total opposites. One was a nice Mormon girl, and the other was definitely Las Vegas Tweaker Girl.

Here is their pre-flight conversation.

Mormon Girl: I went to Utah, because I thought he was going to propose. Instead he broke up with me.

Tweaker Girl: What a fucking asshole. They're all fucking assholes. Fucking men.

Mormon Girl: No, he's a really nice guy. He prayed for four months about whether he should marry me. God kept telling him, "no", so that's why he broke up with me.

Tweaker Girl: Oh so he's a fucking religious whackadoodle?

Mormon Girl: He's not a whackadoodle. He just has a really strong relationship with the Savior.

Tweaker Girl: Oh, okay. Whatever. Well maybe his savior could've told him four months ago that he didn't want to marry you, instead of waiting until now.

At his point the girl next to me wanted to talk, so I threw on my headphones, and didn't catch the rest of the conversation.

An hour later as we we're getting off the plane, the conversation continued.

Tweaker Girl: What you need to do is hook up with someone else right away, and
get your ex out of your system.

Mormon Girl: Hum, I think it's too soon to start dating again.

Tweaker Girl: My auntie says the best think to do after a break-up is to sleep with someone else right away. Rebound sex will make you forgot all about him.

Mormon Girl is speechless, and look like she's about to cry

Tweaker Girl: But may auntie is a pill popping meth head, so you probably shouldn't listen to her.

Mormon Girl: Okay, well it was nice to meet you, but I have to go now.

Thank God, I wasn't seated next to Tweaker Girl. I thought Mormon Girl handled the situation with a lot a class. I am totally on team Mormon Girl!

It Gives the Red Eye A Whole New Meaning

Note to self: Squatters black bean nachos, chased down with a tall Cafe Americano is never a good idea. Especially when consumed less than an hour before a very crowded, cross country flight.


Ouch.

Sometimes, I Really Like Kids

Today, a sad day was very much brightened by a 10 year old girl who attached herself to my side. This kid is smarter and wittier than most adults, which is why I must share some of her best quotes.

"Why do dead people smell like chicken nuggets?"

"Was that bishop guy speaking English? I really didn't understand any of the words he said, and I'm not a dumb kid."

"This Mormon food isn't so bad."

"You can't make me eat jello!"

I Must Be In Utah

Long time, no post. I have no excuses other than living and enjoying my life.

Today, I unexpectedly find myself in Utah. Being raised Mormon means I have a small army of relatives. As of late, some of my relatives have very recently passed away. Hence, I find myself in Utah. While here I have been cooking and baking up a storm, and making trip after trip to drop off food to grieving family members Though they don't know it, I think the local Relief Society would be pretty goddamn happy to have me on their team.

If I ever found myself homeless, I would move to Utah. Yesterday my brother took me to 7-11 so he could get his daily 64 oz. of coke/dr. pepper/mountain dew. Afflicted by the altitude, I decided to wait in the car. Standing in front of the car, was a young homeless couple. As they stood drinking their Slurpee's, three separate people (including my brother) approached them and asked them if they would like some money. This is amazing. People in Utah are so fucking nice. It's kind of good to be back.

Family Values

My boyfriend and I are taking a trip to Utah in June. He's participating in a motorcycle rally that begins and ends in Salt Lake City, so we thought it would be a great opportunity to make a vacation out of it (real meaning: he gets to meet my family). Last night, he received the registration information for the rally. When he got to the part about lodging for the rally participants, it was stated that the hotel they had stayed in during previous years, does not want them back because it is felt that this group does not "promote proper family values." When we finally stopped laughing, we called my mom, to share this with her. She told my boyfriend that he should probably take this as a compliment.

After he finishes the rally, we'll be staying with my parents, where family values are somewhat promoted. During this time, we will probably have more than enough interaction with my extended family (dozens of first cousins, four grandparents and a slew of aunts and uncles). This is when I have instructed him to ask the two questions that he recently asked me.

1. What exactly goes on inside the temple?

2. Do you think you can sneak me in?


Though it's four months away, I am really looking forward to this trip.