When Crazy Ladies Attack!

What I would give for a good night’s sleep… My trip to Utila has worn me out. A quick three-day, two-night jaunt over to The Other Island turned into a completely mental six-day whirlwind of scuba diving, Sambuca, fried pork, urinated bunk beds, beautiful women, and very, very late nights. But more on that in a later update. Still exhausted from the previous wild week, I decide to call it an early night. I try to finish my Utila trip report for the website, but the words aren’t coming. My battered brain and droopy eyelids prevent me from writing anything remotely coherent. (Not that much was coherent about the trip). My sophisticated, intelligent descriptions of my immature, depraved misadventures will » read more «

The West End Looney Bin

“Look, here comes that crazy lady.” He points over my shoulder. I turn, following his black finger towards the white dress sauntering down the dock below. Crackhead Craig is right. It is the crazy lady. Craig leans closer and props his sunglasses haphazardly on his head. “That bitch crazy, man,” he mumbles, looking at me with glazed eyes. For a brief second I catch a glimpse of the teenage boy who helped his dad raise the pigs as I watched from my neighboring hammock. Then the image withers into the emaciated figure extending his open palm towards me. “Gimme a cigarette.” “I don’t smoke, dude. I tell you that every time you ask.” “Oh,” he sniffs, head weaving. The crazy » read more «