Aselin

I live a pretty great life. I’ve had many wonderful experiences, and many experiences I’ve tried to turn into wonderful despite how they initially happened. I woke up this morning to one of those ‘get to know you’ questionnaires that circulate freely through cyberspace. I suppose in the recesses of my mind I’m flattered someone would want to know me better, but the arrival of one of these questionnaires always brings a bout of anxiety.

Usually the form asks questions to which I’m not really comfortable telling the truth. Details like “What are you wearing right now.” This is always dangerous with me. I’m the Trifecta of Fashion Disasters. When you combine unbelievably bad fashion sense, extreme cheapness and a sassy streak, it’s really safer never to ask that question. Did you know that you can make some pretty nice underwear out of Saran Wrap, aluminum foil and napkins?

Other invasive interrogations like “Six names you go by.” I have to say, if you have my e-mail address then you know what people call me. Six names is excessive. Coming up with six different names moves us outside polite conversation. I’ve been called lots of things that nice people don’t say, by those same nice people. It’s a gift I have. I seem to have a way about me.

Today though, I’m smiling at the opportunity to answer “What did you do last night?” Usually answering this question would incriminate me, but this morning I’m eager to answer.

Sitting under the stars with the waters of the Caribbean lapping nearby I learned how hard it is for a dolphin to hydroplane a big man with its nose. Last night during karaoke, I learned that there is a woman named Roxanne who is even more fearless than I, and that she is way more talented. Her alter ego “Sarah” would never belie the powerhouse of skill in that tiny body - but in the space of fifteen minutes she performed the worm, spoke fluent gibberish and sang one of the best versions of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy”, I’ve ever heard. People were throwing their room keys at her, men rushed to carry her across the stage all as our little group watched in fully entertained awe.

Last night I watched a unicyclist named “Slinky”, a Jamaican opera singer and some contortionists that would give the Chinese a run for their money. You can’t make this stuff up. Then, being called up on stage I, with three of my fellow resort goers, was asked to stand atop a board spiked with 1,000 steel nails. Whoever came up with the ‘bed of nails’ idea is really sick. Asking me to jump atop the flat side of one, on the other hand, was quite entertaining.