i'm going back to tj, tj, tj

"Happy, you really need to be sluttier."
- Denisse to me and Allisonwhile driving home from Tijuana.

That's when the fun really began. We had attempted a game of European capitals (thanks, Slater), that was a total non-starter, but gave up altogether after this exchange:
Happy: "Amsterdam?"
Allison: "The Netherlands."
Happy: "Athens?"
Allison, Denisse: "Greece."
Happy: "Brussels?"
Denisse: "Sprouts!"
Happy: "Bern?"
Allison: "Victim!"

We were talking about burn victims and brussel sprouts because Denisse, Allison, and I headed to Tijuana today to represent our employer at a binational trade treaty signing. While there, I got to meet bigwigs (Lt. Governor Cruz Bustamante, etc.) and to dust off my espanol. We had a lovely meal and good wine and the Mayor of Tijuana even kissed our cheeks as we shook hands and said goodbye. Then, things got interesting.

Allison (being the vivacious gorgeous blonde she is) got a lot of attention from the Latino men. The men were taken aback (as they usually are) that I -- the white girl -- speak Spanish and was picking up on everything they were saying. We ended up meeting Adrian, a 23-year-old Mexican pretty boy millionaire (he didn't bring it up, Denisse did). Now Allison wants to go back and take him up on his offer to show us the Tijuana that only locals know. We said "adios" and headed north, sped through the fastest border ID check ever, and made our way to the Yard House for happy hour.

After Denisse's revelation, we spent a few hours talking over drinks and appetizers about how, exactly, I might go about accomplishing that. And I'm just going to put it out there and say that I'm down with being a lot less tightly wound.