God has always given me alternative birth controls throughout my life. The first being my amazing set of teeth, or lack thereof. Second, no patience. Third, my "awkward" looking stage was during my three years of High School, making dating a mythical concept to me. Then last but not least, every child I get stuck in a car with or come in contact with has the dreaded A.D.H.D. and screams at a volume only dogs can hear.
Thursday morning I was surprised by the family and packed into my sister's Honda Civic with her and her two children. Now I love my niece and nephew, but home girl here can't take repetitive noises, a consistent rhythm of kicking in the back of her chair, and screaming. Ten hours in a car with no silence can send anyone into rage or insanity. I don't know how my sister's do it, motherhood that is. Kids seem to be the most unpredictable creatures alive. The only thing you can predict is that they will eat, poop and cry. The most ironic part to my road trip was the night before I was thinking about how marriage and having children could be nearer in my future than I might be comfortable with, and for once it didn't seem like such a bad idea. I was really warming up the idea of getting serious about dating and growing up (my parents would be so proud). Then I woke up, I clicked my seat belt in, got on the fifteen, all so could be reminded that I am so HAPPY right were I am in life. SINGLE and WITHOUT CHILD.
While in California, I was excited to conform to the "beach" lifestyle. I feel like every time a "out-of-towner" goes to california, the beach is a must. It's like the idea that you have to hit up the beach when you are in california is beat into American's heads at birth. It's such a commercial scandal. It's made out to be this surreal paradise to everyone. So many people decorate their houses with beach looking crap and tropical fruit smelling fragrances. And I'm not talking about the people that actually live by a beach. No, no, I'm talking about your typical stay at home mom that lives in one of the square states. You know who I'm talking about right, we've all witnessed this madness? The pictures of waves, clean sandy beaches and sunsets over the ocean. Such a paradise you look at while you're in the comfort of your own home does not exist in Southern California ya'll. It is a myth. What they forget to intel in these illusions of paradise are things like the smell, the trash everywhere, shit loads upon shit loads of people, lack of available parking and the most annoying of all, THE SAND. It clenches to your skin and hides in every nook and cranny. If you are lucky enough to find parking before the sun goes down, count your blessings. And then curse the parking God when you are showering two weeks later and still have a pile of sand lining your drain.
While at the beach this trip, I took my comfort of nudity to a new level. Usually the occasional "mooning" and "flash" are my extreme. My most frequent and consistent victim being my poor mother. You'd think I'd let her catch a break after bathing and changing my diapers all those years. NAH! She always gives me a great reaction. My motto has always been, "Attention is a attention, positive or negative, it's still attention." Another nude experience worth mentioning, so you as my reader can grasp my comfort level nudity, are the three and a half years of college basketball I forced myself through against my better judgement as a human being. Coaches never expressed on any of my recruiting trips that team unity involved community bathing and openly being nude with your fellow teammates. Some suspicious characters might consider this team bonding activity a perk and others might see it as another moment to lose all your dignity. Either way you're conditioned to let it all hang out. Well at the beach, it is hard enough to squeeze into your bikini and not judge yourself, let alone lose your bottoms in a crashing wave. Finally, Chelsea Robinson blushes. This was my reality. Full frontal, cold sweats and a blushing face. Classic.
Now to wrap up my weekend trip, I have to mention my encounter with a certain fella at the pool in Las Vegas last night. As girls we tend to give boys all the power and the benefit of the doubt. Why? I don't know the answer to this phenomenon, but I am a victim of this too. So I'm in the pool with my sister and nephew enjoying the chilled water. (I forgot to mention our air conditioning broke while driving through Vegas. This is why I am in a pool in Vegas. And enjoying cold water.) I lock my eyes with this gentleman across the pool. He looks like he's about 30 years old, confident, relaxed and on the prowl for some Vegas memories. I proceed to leave the pool and sit in the hot tub alone. After locking eyes a couple times a boy might take this as flirting or and invitation to talk to me. What he doesn't know will hurt him, I'm not that smooth, I made contact while judging his loneliness and I was just freezing and wanted to strangle anyone who splashed water. The hot tub was my "out". I've learned it's just best to excuse myself in social situations like this, no one likes violence in family settings, cardinal rule or something. Well, my googler thinks I have "game" so he come and joins me in the hot tub. While climbing in, he set down his landing gear and eased in slowly. Eye contact was made, which makes this so much sweeter for an asshole like me, as he starts to submerge his body in the blistering water/urine. He failed to detect the air bubble gathering in and around his essentials. The air found an escape route through the top of his bathing suit and splashed his smooth ass in the face. His game was gone. He was exposed. I held in my laughter and excused myself to enjoy his humility out loud with my sister in the other pool. Thank heavens for over confident men and the simple laws of physics.