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The Bang Bang Theories

Hips Don’t Lie. Very much, anyway.

Hi Reader, it’s a refreshed and relaxed Trixie Bang Bang at your service! That is, if your “service” is just sitting on your ass somewhere, preferably with a drinkie-poo (that someone else got for you, not me) and/or eating pizza and taking a two-second break. If that’s your service, then I am at it for you!

**so I think that whole above paragraph was a big fat lie, or at least a delayed statement – because I started to be at your service YESTERDAY, but then I never finished servicing you. Ahem. So here I am today, to try to finish servicing you. Because as we’re established many many many times over, I’m a giver. One who enjoys the servicing.

As several of you who are part of the kool kids klub who follow Trixie Bang Bang on Facebook, you had advance notice that she .. er …. me .. I?? was travelling this past week.

Now, lest I inundate you with a whole buncha vacation pictures that you give two shits about, let’s talk about what’s really important here: What I had in my mouth this past week.

Well, in surprising news, you’d be wrong if you guessed I had a lot of alcohol in my mouth. In fact, my new group of friendies that I met could possibly assume I was something of a missionary, visiting the island to do good deeds, based on the chaste lifestyle I led during that week on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, where I was also visited* by Kim Kardashian, FYI.

I rarely drank, was generally in bed by 10 p.m. (if not sooner, but sssshhhh…..we don’t want to get the word out I’m a total vacation dud, Reader), and watched more than my fair share of Naked & Afraid & Golden Girls. Because I’m a player.

My missionary work was done during the day (well, only twice that week, but who’s counting), at a dog rescue place named Potcakes, which frankly I don’t understand the name and kept referring to it as Pupcakes, because it makes a lot more sense, and let me do your naming for you, Rescue Place! During my daytime missionary work, I petted and smooched puppies, Reader, because that’s how I like to enjoy charity work.

That little fat-bellied black & white one? Was dreaming and moving his little feet and making cooing noises. It was adorbs.

In the spirit of continuing my missionary work from afar, you’ll be excited to know that you can rescue one of these littles and make it your own! Pupcakes doesn’t charge, you just have to pay the airline fees to bring the little one back to you. And oh, p.s., the most interesting part is that since the island doesn’t have rabies, there is no quarantining – you just walk right off the plane into the US and declare your pup at customs. Easy peasy. And with that said, no I did not adopt a puppy because my seven three cats would take turns shitting on my head.

*if by “I was visited” we’re saying that she and I was both on the exact same small island at the exact same time and we looked exactly the same in our swimsuits –  if I were to show you a full-body image, that is – but I unfortunately I don’t have one so you’ll have to assume we look exactly the same, only she’s a  little more “hippy.” Right, Reader?? Agree with me, Reader, it’s the rules we have established here. I write things and you tell me I’m pretty and not hippy at all. That’s exactly how she and I visited, and then oh, by no small coincidence, she flew right from Turks & Caicos to CLE, which also happens to be where you can find me most of the time, and also there’s the similarity of name between Ken-ye and Kanye so maybe she’s trying to steal my identify and then we’re not really friends at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So maybe she and I aren’t exactly as close of friends as we are in my mind this past week. What a shame when friendships end this way. Well, you’re not my first, Kim Kardashian – I’m getting good at goodbye! You’ll miss me when I’m gone, is all I’m going to say. Because all this. Highly missable.

But anyway, back to the point of this nonsense story.  What is the point of this, exactly?? Oh! What I had in my mouth that was worthy of a mention!

THIS!

Don’t be put off by the looks. This bread? Was baked with love and also white chocolate on the inside. Just like my heart.

I dubbed this little delight “Boyfriend Bread” because I wanted to date it for the week. And also, it was the best thing I’d had between my lips.  All the girls enjoyed Boyfriend Bread and were bringing loaves of it to the table.

By day five, I knew in my heart-of-white-chocolate-hearts that no amount of water aerobics, known as AquaGym (pronounced Acua-geeeeeemah) was going to keep my hippies smaller than Kim K’s so I said my goodbyes around day six.

Some of the girlies packed up the Boyfriend Bread and enjoyed some while back at home. I chose to live with nothing but the memories of the time we spent together.

When I weighed myself this morning I had neither lost nor gained any weight. And the lesson learned here is, don’t dump your Boyfriend Bread early. Nothing good came from that decision, except a few delicious missed mouth opportunities. 

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