Dragos famous broiled oysters:
To wash down local flavors, including goat meat stew(ish) type food:
I will admit, I was pretty tentative on the goat meat, but then recognized that I’ve had far more questionable things in my mouth at some point in my life, and ate it. Also included in the meal was jerk chicken, a Jamaican staple, which was spicy deliciousness, crafted by this dude:
The dude in the hat, not the dude in the Bazinga shirt.
More local brews, with a splash of tequila floating. Beer + tequila = yumbuzz!
Shrimp cocktail tasted that much sweeter when eaten underneath a tiki hut on the beach:
And in Grand Caymen, it was my own damn fault. On the rocks.
Which I blame for clouding my good judgment, leading me to say “YES!” when I maybe should have said, “I’ll think about it” when looking at new diamond earrings.
The new earring is the lower earring. Purchased only because I lost the mate to the earring in the top hole on Day 1 of vacation. Woke up in New Orleans and I faced a naked lobe, and I was sad. They were a really clean, pretty pair of 1/2 carats that I’ve had for a number of years (at least 8, I don’t remember exactly, but they were a Christmas gift from Fucksteve, so at least that old).
So I had a couple margaritas, went in to the jewelry shop to try and find a single 1/2 carat replacement and the next thing I knew, I was dazedly walking out with new almost-a-carat-each in my lobes.
That was an expensive fucking margarita.
Kenny is a horrible shopping Wingman, by the way. The Caymen brew caught up with him and he was slumped over on a couch while the deal was being done. They kept him lubed up with glasses of champagne, and was trying to push a $16,000 (beautiful!!!) engagement ring his way, to make an honest woman outta me, instead of the loose floozy slutbag that I am. He said he was fine with the cheap (much, much cheaper) slutbag version of me.
One night of very fine dining offered this:
And it was good.
Soft words were also on my lips:
And big smiles, especially from this view: