I did not pee on the floor of my lavish rental home or get caught in barbed wire.
I did not make out with somebody other than my girlfriend or attempt to finger a friend’s husband.
I did not vomit off the side of a sailboat, though it looked like really a fun thing to do.
I did not fall down the stairs and tear the ligaments in my leg.
I did not get stung by a dismembered jellyfish.
I did not save a dog, though I was part of the three man/woman team that discovered it.
I did not give anybody a foot massage, nor did I request one.
I did not buy a pound of Mexican ditch weed and smoke it in less than a week.
I did not obtain a “legal” prescription from a shady doctor for oxycodone, hydrocodone, xanax, darvocet, percocet or valium, though at times I wish I had.
I did not grab a Mexican gangster’s cock.
I did, however, witness a big red cock chilling with an iguana in the overgrown front lot of an abandoned shanty.
I did get dressed up in matching outfits with other men and drink the Kool Aid.
I did shapeshift into my disc jockey persona…
and learn the secrets behind all of Chris Holmes’ magic tricks.
I did introduce wary children to the world of music, contrary to their parent’s wishes.
I did celebrate my birthday with Keith Mack and howl “Silencio!” before opening up a portal to another dimension where pork tacos are an intoxicant.
I marched around with cake on my face.
I danced with my arms above my head and partied like it was 1979.
I got dressed up in seersucker and partied with some party boyz.
I sat sentry on siesta…
and enjoyed quite moments alone with the internets
I posed for the “Angry Faces of Sayulita 2010” calendar…
and interviewed small local dogs about their views on small dog/big dog segregation in Sayulita.
I discussed (then current) Puerta Vallerta weather conditions with my motley crew.
then went sailing (and got the shit kicked out of me by waves that, at times, felt like they were composed of liquid nitrogen rather than highly-polluted Mexican sea water.)
I snorkeled (and my penis turned into a vagina.)
I was adopted by a puppy Doberman.
I went to a video arcade in town and met the regional Halo champion.
I slept at a castle in the sky
then opted for a mansion on the beach.
I drove an ATV through the jungle.
I took part in a burrito revolution and confronted a dear friend about his unhealthy past relationship with world renown “down tempo” group St. Germain.
I had my first close encounter with an crazy freaky Unidentified Flying Object and made a pact not to tell anybody about it.
And I lied.
