THE INTRO: I know, I know. We haven’t posted in a few days.
Well, it happened: no, not herpes, island malaise. One minute we were working on our projects of life-affirmation, eating salads, exercising, reading Thomas Mann, and the next thing we knew it was Sunday (for two whole days) and there were Pina Coladas to drink and French-language bloopers to wonder at on the TV. There was ice-cream, too. Rhum ice-cream. Also we enjoyed vaporizing mosquitos with our trusty weapon (see below).
Alas, of blogs there came none during this dark period. Not of our mental loins, anyway. Here, by the way, is Mosquitobane 2000, scourge of the, er… mosquitos.
Did you know? At most restaurants in St. Barth‘s you will be served a shot of rum right after your meal has concluded. These will be infused with exciting flavors like rose, banana, coffee or desperation. Have one — heck, have two! It’s on the house wherever you go, and kind of a tradition. If you refuse it, you will be marked for derision. Since the French are derisive by nature, you probably won’t notice.
Did you also know? It’s a tradition to wear pants in St. Barth’s when you go to dinner, which disappointed Laszlo. He believes that success — TRUE success — is defined by not having to wear pants.”I have good calf muscles,” he shrugs. “Check out the right one.”
Did you also happen to know? Men and women go naked on St. Barth’s beaches. You can see bushels of breast and bratwurst on the beaches, and once you recover your eye sight, you can look at the pictures that Laszlo took from the hip. “It’s so we remember,” he said.
“Remember what?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he said.
Mystery of the Day:
In the past we have found various things have gone missing from the Villa. Once it was a hair dryer. Then it was my tortoise shell hair clip. Today it was a chair. In it’s place was a cube. A small, white cube. “Wasn’t that a chair?” asked Laszlo when we came in.
“I depends,” I said. “What were we drinking last night?”
“I’m sure that was a chair,” he said.
Yes, it was true, our maid had changed a chair magically into an ottoman-cube. We saw her come and we saw her go and at no point was she carrying furnishings of any kind.
Maybe we dipped into an alternate universe where there are cubes instead of chairs.
I guess we’ll never know.
REVELATION AND OTHER PAINFUL BODILY FUNCTIONS
Lala has discovered a dark truth: writing is not easy. She wants to share this hard-earned bit of knowledge with the world. “If I can save just one person from going through what I have been going through,” she wept. Then it will not have been in vain.”
She denied allegations of getting a pedicure that day, and not, in fact penning any part of the intended Great American Novel. “It was, in a fact a mani-pedi,” she clarified.