My lovely little sister Leanna and long-time friend Mallory flew in to visit me last Wednesday. And of course, I couldn't take them to the beach until they had experienced the real Santiago city life first (and also I still had to work Thursday and Friday). Since I only had one class on Thursday, I decided we could spend most of the day exploring around the city and they could get a taste of true Dominican non-tourist culture. 
So real quick, here's the run-down:
They girls started the morning bright and early with a 5:00 a.m. rooster wake-up call.  
Despite this fact, they managed to go back to sleep for a few hours while I headed to my 8:00 a.m. class. I made it back around 10:00 and stopped to buy some roadside fresh-slice fruit on the way home, thinking this would be a nice little Dominican breakfast for them. Fresh fruit at this time of year consists of pineapple, cantaloupe, bananas, and another melon called lechoza. The only problem is that Leanna is not much of a "fruit person" and Mallory hates bananas and melons. -1 for Santiago.
But they were good sports and we figured we would be eating soon, so little-to-no breakfast would be ok. We all strapped on our walking shoes and headed out the door, our first destination: El Mercado Hospedaje, a large outdoor city market with every kind of fruit and vegetable imaginable. 
I think its safe to say that the market made quite an impression on the girls. The colors, sounds, and smells are a lot to take in. Not to mention, we three very American girls were drawing a lot of attention. The cat-calls were pretty much non-stop. Mallory and Leanna both decided that if they were ever feeling down, they'd just walk to the Market for an instant confidence booster. +1 for Santiago.
After purchasing a few pineapples we hiked back up to "La Sirena," the closest thing the D.R. has to a walmart, where we made a few more purchases. We decided to head home and drop off our groceries before heading out to eat. By American standards, it was a long walk back (half mile up-hill) in the middle of the day with our heavy grocery bags and the hot Dominican sun beating down on us. -1 Santiago.

We did stop to get some coconut milk and a boruga on the way back though, which neither of them liked much.
 -2 Santiago.
But they did like the machete cutting action! +1 Santiago. 

The girls were sweaty and hungry by the time we got back and I decided to take them to Centro Leon (Santiago's cultural museum)  for a little bit of air-conditioning and lunch at the attached café. The plan was perfect, we would get to walk through  some Dominican history and cultural exhibits, cool off, and get some good food. Plus, we would need to take a concho to get there, and I was really eager to see what the girls thought about the Dominican public transportation system. So we headed to the concho stop and squished in: 4 people in the back seat, 2 in the front. The ride took at least 15 minutes and the poor girls had to seat on each others laps (or the laps of complete stangers) practically the whole time in the very hot, not air-conditioned concho. I am not sure they left with a positive opinion of Dominican public transportation.  -2 Santiago. 
Needless to say, they were quite happy when we finally made it to our destination. Only when we got there, the museum was closed. Some kind of opening ceremony for a new exhibition or what-not. Well, that´s the Dominican Republic for you. Plans never go as planned. -3 Santiago. 
So we reluctantly hopped back into another concho and took a ride back to the mall on the opposite side of town (not quite as cool as the museum, but just walking through the stores is kind of like walking through an exhibit....kind of). Plus it was the only place I could think of that we could go to get them air conditioning and food.

By the time we arrived, it was approaching 1:30 and the girls were ravenous. They ordered a combo plate of nachos, tacos, and quesadillas. I think they had had enough Dominican culture for the day and just needed some good old American (or Mexican) comfort food. Once I had the hungry bears fed and cooled off, we did a little bit of shopping and things started looking up.  

We looked at fancy shoes.
(Mallory really started getting the hang of the whole Dominican fashion thing: find the tallest/blingy-est shoes you can find and you´ll fit right in)

We bought rum (which always makes everyone happy). +2 Santiago

And we got our nails done!  

Ok so Mallory may have ended up with green nails instead of turquoise (small language barrier problem), but overall it was a pretty good experience. +1 Santiago.

We started our walk back home around 5:00 p.m., just as school was letting out. Little did we know that we would have to fight our way up hill through a throng (literally about 100 students) of stir-crazy middle-schoolers going the opposite direction. 
Little kids are my favorite though. They are not afraid to say whatever they want to whoever they want, and foreigners are a special treat in their eyes. Its a chance for them to either try out their English skills, or point and stare openly at the "exotic" Americans. In this case, most of the kids took the point and stare route, including one little girl who stretched her finger out at Mallory and cried out at the top of her lungs, "Blanca! Blanca!" 
Literally translated, "white girl! white girl!"
I think Mallory and Leanna were as equally amused as the kids were. Draw for Santiago.

Siesta time!
Once we finally made it home a little snooze was in order. 
After all, a long day of sun and walking can really take it out of you.

For dinner I was planning on taking them to a nearby  Dominican roadside restaurant with fabulous "pinchos" or kabobs, a sure-fire hit between the two of them, but of course, immediately when we stepped out the door it began to rain. -1 Santiago. We ended up calling a taxi and heading to a slightly more upscale restaurant (with a roof).  We started off with a couple Presidentes...always a good way to begin a meal. 

And just look at those beautiful freshly manicured nails. 
You just have to love the "presidente" green color. 

Then Leanna played it safe with grilled chicken and fried plaintains, or tostones, and Mallory tried to be daring with a "Ricky" a traditional Dominican sandwich which I have actually never tried before. 

Leanna´s was a hit. +1 Santiago. 

Mallory´s, not so much. -1 Santiago.
( The sandwich came drenched in a "special sauce" of mayo and ketchup, which Domincans put on EVERYTHING, and which Mallory happens to hate)

After dinner we headed over to la "Plaza Internacional" (a.k.a. Maddy´s rooftop) to celebrate the Lovely Alexis´s birthday, pictured above with her birthday brews. 

Plaza Internacional is so-named because there is always an eclectic mix of people from all over the world on that rooftop: Haitians, Belgians, Americans, Venezuelans, and Dominicans unite! It makes for some very interesting conversations, if you can speak enough languages to keep up. Maddy throws the best parties :)

After a couple piña coladas in a pineapple (made with our freshly purchased  market pineapples!), we were invited to a spur-of-the-moment midnight pool party. And we went. Because that's how things work here in the Dominican Republic. Everything is spontaneous: the plan is, there is no plan. Unless you get invited to a swimming pool in the ritziest part of town. Then that is the new plan. That is always the plan.

We didn't make it home until the wee small hours of the morning. 
Final Score: -5 for Santiago
So at the end of the day, Santiago ended up a few points down, but for bettor or worse, at least the girls got to experience the "Real Santiago" and hopefully make a few memories they won't soon forget. 

P.S. I will possibly be editing this post later in the week to add in more pictures (once the girls get their camera pictures uploaded), so check back later!!

Its a valid question, and one I get asked a lot. And well the truth is, I'm still working out that answer myself. I mean really, how did I end up on this tiny little island in the middle of the sea? There isn't an easy answer I don't think. Instead, like most things in life, it was an accumulation of random occurences and situations that pushed me in this direction. 
And to start it off, I think I need to go back to the beginning. I mean waaay back. Let's say to middle school in Elkhart, IL. 
Suffice it to say, middle school is usually hard for everyone, but growing up in a small town can be especially tough. Especially when you never really fit in. Ok so nobody really "fits in" in middle school, but everyone is trying so hard to, even though we are all so different. But I was a particularly willful child, and trying to fit into something I wasn't just didn't come easy to me. I spent a lot of time with my nose in a book instead, filling my head with far-off lands and "daring" adventures. High school was more of the same. I was devastatingly shy by this time, and wanted desperately to fit in, but I didn't know what to do or how to act, and I never felt I had anything interesting to contribute. I always felt like I would say or do the wrong thing and people would think I was weird. And really, that's probably because I was, by Mt. Pulaski standards at least. I relied mostly on my sister in social situations. It was a very symbiotic relationship for a while. I was labeled as the smart one, and she was the social one, and we helped each other out a lot. And it worked mostly. 
It was also in high school that I started taking one intriguing little class called Spanish. Here was a class that actually transported me to one of those far-off lands from books. And more than that, it was a class that focused around grammar and language, something I had always secretly found fascinating, but never admitted back then (I was already geeky enough without throwing in the fact that I loved grammar). I remember sitting in Spanish class and learning about the structure of "me gusta" (we translate it as "I like" but literally it means "it pleases me", so to say "me gusta comer" translates as "I like to eat" but literally means "Eating pleases me") and thinking that this was crazy fascinating. The Spanish language was using a completely bizarre, by English standards, grammar structure, but they were essentially conveying the same meaning. It was like I had been living in a language box, and now I could step outside that box and look at two languages separately and objectively. I was floored, and from there grew my passion for language. But that wasn't the only thing I was passionate about. In fact I liked learning about most things. Except math. Math was always a struggle. But science and history and agriculture, and even chemistry and physics (thanks Miss Gross!) were always interesting. And so when I had to decide on a career path in college, it was a huge struggle. How could I decide on just one thing to do for the rest of my life, when I loved so many different things? Would I have to give something up? Not to mention, I was told I needed to choose something in which I could earn a living, after all why go to college to study something I couldn't turn into a career? Whelp, there went the journalism idea. And also my career needed to be something that allowed me to have a family too, because I was led to believe it was the woman's place to take care of the children and the household. At least that's what society was pushing and my parents were hinting at. So I researched and researched. I spent hours looking into different careers on the internet on top of my other homework. It was exhausting and overwhelming. But I finally settled on Nursing with a minor in Spanish. A good "womanly" career that let me still study biology and language. But the nursing admissions office had different ideas. You can't have a minor with nursing they said, the nursing program is very intense and you won't have time to take other classes. I loved Spanish, I didn't want to give it up, but it seemed I couldn't pursue all my passions. So I headed to the nursing office to pick up an application for the nursing program.  The lady at the front desk was less than receptive,  "You know you that getting into the nursing program is extremely difficult," she said snootily. I had dressed in sweats that day and was looking a bit disheveled from running back and forth to all my classes and trying to get my major changed, so I probably wasn't making the best first impression, but still, who was this lady to judge,  "You have to have excellent grades," she sneered. Obviously I did not look like someone capable of accomplishing excellent grades. "Um ya, I know," I mumbled, "thanks for the warning." I left the office feeling put off by the woman´s rudeness and less than enthused about entering the nursing profession. I decided right then that I was changing my major. I didn't really want to give up Spanish anyways. 
So Spanish it was. 
Now that I had decided on Spanish though, what the hell was I going to do with it? And so because I had no idea what else to do, and because Illinois State University was primarily a teaching school, and because teaching sounded like a good profession to have if I wanted a family some day (I was oddly preoccupied with having a career that would be good for a family back then, even though I've never been great with kids and the thought of having my own child any time soon is terrifying), my major became Spanish education. And things were good for a while. 
I applied to study abroad, and I worked my ass off applying for scholarships and working as a tutor to help pay for the expenses, and I went to Spain. And it was awesome. I loved it. I was thrilled to be on my own for the first time in my life. And although I missed my family very much, it was nice to be away, and to have that time to grow as my own person. Having been a relatively shy student in high school and the beginning of college, I was still growing into myself and learning who I was. And since I was on my own, I couldn't rely on my sister to form friendships and then join her social circle. But this was a great thing, because most of the people studying abroad were like me, they all loved language and they were all trying to form friendships because we needed each other to survive in this foreign country. For the first time in my life I realized I had interesting stuff to say. And I could be funny. I had never been funny before. I gained a tremendous amount of confidence in Spain, especially in my English language conversation skills, which is ironic since I went there to study Spanish. My Spanish skills improved a lot too. 
But not enough.
I came back to the U.S. with a new sense of self and continued my Spanish education. And I loved my Spanish classes, because they focused a lot on grammar and linguistics, but that was the problem. It was assumed that I would learn all my Spanish conversation skills when I studied abroad in Spain, so there were no continuing conversation classes when I got back. I studied abroad my sophomore year,  which meant I was never really provided with another good opportunity to improve my Spanish conversation skills for the last two years of my education. And even though my other Spanish classes were taught in Spanish, I was able to get good grades because I excelled in written work and grammar. I just barely squeeked by my state-required oral tests though. Still, those state tests didn't go on my transcript and I graduated suma cum laude in Spanish Education in 2009. 
Now I faced the difficult task of finding a job. But I wasn't really ready to join the work force. What I really wanted to do was go live abroad again. I knew my Spanish skills weren't as good as they should be and secretly, I was embarrassed. I had always been a person who had excelled at everything I put my mind to, but here was something I had no plausable way of improving without being submersed in a Spanish culture. I looked into a couple teach abroad programs and even had a phone interview with a school near Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic. But they weren't really looking for someone who had a degree in Spanish Education, afterall, they already knew how to speak Spanish there. In any case I ended up accepting a middle school Spanish job in the tiny town of Tuscola, Illinois. 
It wasn't ideal. I didn't want to go back to a small town, I had already spent most of my life in a small adventure-less town. I wanted something more!  But the economy was tough and sometimes you just have to deal with what you've got. So I settled. Never settle people! Never! In any case, teaching in Tuscola did have the added benefit of being a middle school job, which meant it was basic level Spanish which I was completely fine with teaching. And I worked extremely hard to come up with fun and interactive lesson plans to make up for anything that I may have lacked in my language knowledge.  Since I was the first middle school Spanish teacher there, I built the program up from scratch and I got to be super creative, which was awesome, and I did gain some valuable teaching experience. But the entire time I was there I kept feeling like this is not where I needed to be. The job and the town were slowly sucking the life out me. Finally after 3 years (in which I was forced to take on more classes than I could handle and to sit through numerous meetings about the poor financial state of our school), it was time to move on. I had finally found a teach abroad program that was a semester long, and it was in the Dominican Republic.  Most of the other programs I had looked into had required a year or more, which I wasn't sure I wanted to do. After all, moving to a foreign country completely on my own was a huge step, and this was the time in my life in which society was telling me I needed to be settling down and starting a family, not gallavanting off to some far-away land. So I found this teach abroad program through CIEE, and because I had amassed enough savings from my 3 years as a teacher, I felt confident in leaving everything behind to scrape a living by as an English teacher in a developing country. I applied for the job, and to my great amazement, I got it! 
For the first time in 3 years, I was so happy I nearly cried. 
And so now I'm here. And its thrilling, and confusing, and terrifying, and wonderful.
The other day a man asked me why I had "escaped" to live in the D.R. but that wasn't the right word.  I wasn't trying to run away from anything in the U.S. Instead, I feel more like I'm trying to run to something. I'm not sure what that is still: adventure maybe, a life less traveled, continued learning, the hope that maybe I will discover what my true passion is here. I don't know. But I'm happy to be here and find out. 

And wow.
I'm sorry I made you sit through all of that rant.
Sometimes you just have to let stuff out, ya know?

Ok so here are some pictures from Centro Leon, the cultural museum here in Santiago that features not only exhibits about the indigenous Taino indians and Dominican history, but also famous works of art produced by native Dominicans. I only got to snap off a few pictures though before security tracked me down and warned me not to take any more. 
For a country in which there is a general lack of laws and regulation, they sure can be sticklers about the little things!

Iván, studying the masterpieces. 
Iván is helping me out with my Spanish, and we decided to take our tutoring session to Centro Leon this past week, because we are classy like that :)

Centro Leon also puts on cultural activities every once in a while. Like this traditional merengue concert that I went to last Friday. The music was awesome and everyone was dancing: from cute old couples to young college professors like ourselves. 

Lindsay looking coy

Alexis and Rolando, showing us how its done.
Rule of thumb: If you are going to a concert here, be prepared dance!!

So I have to say that one of the things I really admire about the Dominican culture is their acceptance of all different body types. Unlike in the U.S., being curvy is not only accepted, its promoted. And having a little junk in the trunk is definitely a good thing (whew!, I fit right in here!) At the same time though, the culture highly values appearance, and girls go a long way to make sure that they are always looking on top of their game: and that means accentuating those curves to the MAX.  Tight fitting neon jeans and cropped, flowy tops (often see-through) are all the rage right now. And let's not forget the shoes. Oh the shoes, the shoes, the shoes: platform stilletos in every style and color imaginable. Overall, It's almost an 80s throw-back style mixed with a little flashy island flare.  This combination can lead to some very interesting outfit selections however, and there are a lot of questionable things that pass for fashionable here (and by questionable, I mean prostitute-ish :p) 
How many of you have ever seen the show Fashion Police on the Entertainment channel? If you haven't seen it, awesome. That means you have a life. If you have seen it though (wow I'm sad for you, but I won't judge you because I've seen it too.), then you'll know that there is a segment of the show called "starlet or streetwalker." So in this segment of the show, we are shown an image of a person's body, and by the clothes they are wearing, we have to decide if she is a famous starlet, or a possible lady-of-the-night. I find myself playing this game in my head a lot here since the fashion seems to straddle that fine line. When they get it right, the girls look like movie stars...but when they get it wrong...well they tend to look like they just walked out of the latest Rap or Reggeatón music video...and I don't mean that in a good way.  I mean, imagine if we all walked around trying to look like we belonged in a hip hop video?  Well sometimes that's how I feel here, like I just walked into the latest Daddy Yankee production, and I suppose all the merengue music constantly being blared in the background only adds to that sentiment. That must just be my opinion though, because I have seen A LOT of "questionable" outfits, and nobody else seems to be making that judgement. 
There is also this other really weird conservative faction, which I think can be attributed to the catholicism here. Those girls that don't fall into the "starlet or streetwalker" category tend to dress super conservatively and professionally, especially to work. Long pants, collared blouses, and suit jackets with nice pumps are never out of place, even though the temperature usually hangs around a sticky 90 degrees. I don't know how they do it. But it def makes for an interesting dynamic to see a Rhianna and a Michelle Obama both standing in the grocery store checkout line, perfectly naturally, right in front of you. Always makes me smile :D
With all that being said, my country bumpkin Illinois style is just a little out of place here, and our first pay check is coming up,  soooo Alexis and I decided to do some "pre-shopping" to scope out the stores and see what we could find to spend money on, (as soon as we get it! ) And well, I couldn't help but model some truly Dominican attire for you. So I'll let you be the judge on these outfits: starlet, or streetwalker? 

Try to imagine me wearing one of these pair of heels (don't laugh!), that way you get the whole effect :)

"Do these pants make my butt look big?....Perfect!"

Hmmm, maybe bright pink is more my color?

Just as a side note: shopping here is a little different than in the states. Generally, when you walk into a store, there will always be someone following you around, which serves the double purpose of attending to your every need (while also secretly making sure you don't steal anything). So we had to be a bit sneaky to find a dressing room where we could try on clothes and take pictures without weirding out the staff. I kind of felt like a secret agent on a mission: covert operation model. Don't worry though, I resisted the temptation to somersault into the fitting rooms and come up striking a charlie's angel's pose. 

Un beso desde la República Dominicana para ustedes

After shopping we treated ourselves to a little milkshake, because being a model and a photographer is hard work y'all!

And now a special treat for you too! This song is called "Ponme To Eso Palante by DJ Kennedy" and its topping the charts right now. It actually belongs to very popular genre of music down here called Dembow. But I couldn't tell you how Dembow is any different than Reggaetón, so don´t ask. But anyways, I'm not kidding when I say that I see girls wearing these outfits out-and-about at night (and sometimes during the day!) Enjoy :D

So remember when I said that sometimes I get really bored? Well, today was one of those days. I got out of class at 10, went to the store, and came home, just to find out that the electricity was out. Great. There went my laundry idea. Well at least I still had my computer.  I could always use my time productively and do some facebook stalking until the power came back on, right? Wrong. It died within the hour. And there I was, stuck, with the day stretching out before me and nothing to do. I had only one other option left: to grade the stack of papers I had just brought home. And that option was not looking appealing. So instead, I picked up my notebook and started to write. 
You may have, by now, guessed that I kind of like writing, and it was a far more tempting outlet for my boredom than schoolwork. Well anyways, I started writing and what came out was a poem. Strange I know, but poetry has been on my mind a lot lately. I have a Dominican friend that's been helping with my Spanish and a lot of the time he gives me songs and song lyrics to look up, and lately some Spanish poetry. I always loved poetry when I was younger, but since it was relatively uncool to admit that as a teenager, I pretty much set it aside. Oh the misguidance of youth. But in any case, I remember reading a poem when I was in middle school (no idea what it was called, what it consisted of, or who the author was) by a Spanish-speaking author. The important part was that the poem was written in English, and apparently the woman poet who had written it had moved from her native country to the U.S. Our English teacher at the time told us that this author believed that if she could write poetry in another language, it meant that she truly had a grasp of that language. I have no idea why I still remember that. In any case, I don´t know if that´s true or not, but I decided to give it a shot. And well, here is my attempt. 

La Mariposa

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Sin dirección salvo la brisa
Flotaría entre belleza y belleza
Tocando el cielo y la fresa
Una vida que sale como risa

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Doradas del sol mis alas
Y todo que toco
Crecería un poco
Y yo dejaría una sonrisa en sus almas

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Sin pesa, ni preocupación, ni hogar
Nunca podría estar perdida
Ni saber la brevedad de la vida
Sólo pudiera amar
Sólo pudiera amar



P.S. Neal, this one was inspired by you 
P.S.S. Spanish speakers out there, I realize there are probably grammar errors here, please forgive them. I´m claiming creative license :)
P.S.S.S. English Speakers, you can just copy and paste this into google translate if you want to get the "gist" of what this says, although it won´t translate exactly correctly.
P.S.S.S.S.  Wow I feel really nervous posting this. Not sure why since I have been pretty uncensored about what I write to you guys so far. Don´t think I´m weird! Or do. I guess it doesn´t really matter, lol, I probably am. 

Close-up of a Dominican butterfly wing. Love. Now I want to paint it. Maybe that shall be my next boredom project. Also, please note that I stole the above photo from depositphotos. Gotta give credit where credit is due. The one below is totally all mine though :)

So I bet you are wondering what Murphy´s law has to do with the picture from Bay Watch posted below. Well no worries friends, all will be explained in due course. Now let me set the scene. 

Yesterday I was invited to go for a jog. The PUCMM is a pretty large university and the road that circles it's interior stretches about a mile around. It's a pretty popular place for running and exercise, and I had been wanting to take a spin on it for a while, but I just hadn't gotten around to it. Mainly because its just been so hot in the late afternoon that I couldn't stand the idea, and since I have classes in the morning, its not really feasible to walk there, jog around, walk back, and get myself ready, all before class. Unless I get up at 5. And no...just no. 
But anywayssss...I got invited to jog yesterday at around 5:30 p.m., which was nice since it had cooled off sufficiently by then to make it tolerable. In fact, it was cooler than normal and gray clouds were starting to gather on the horizon. Nonetheless, Alexis, Lindsay, and I all put on our running shoes and headed out. Almost as soon as our feet hit the pavement, it began to sprinkle. "What's a little rain though?" we thought, ever optimistic "It will be refreshing." And for a while, it was. Running in a lot of rain though....not so much. About half way through our second lap it began to downpour, a steady, drenching rain. Soon it was more like swimming than running. 
Still, this would not have been so terrible if I had not chosen to wear a little white athletic shirt for the day. I was just running along, minding my own business, trying to keep the torrential downpour out my eyes when I passed by two men running in the opposite direction. One of them yelled at me as a I ran by "la ropa se está apretando!" or something along those lines, I´m not sure because I was caught off guard and my Spanish still isn´t super great. I was slightly confused as my mind tried to work its way around the English translation of what this man had just announced to the world: "the clothes are tightening?" I thought to myself. Then I looked down and realized exactly what he meant. Gah! my clothes were soaked and sticking to me like glue. I was pretty much a running wet t-shirt contest. Needless to say, I was mortified! But I was only half way around the track and still had another half mile to go! By the time I made it the rest of the way, the rain had eased back to a minor drizzle. Go figure. When I get done running, the rain stops. 
In any case, I was relieved to have finished the last half mile without seeing anyone I knew. I wasn´t really in a fit state to be seen by students or faculty. 
And that´s when I realized I had left my keys and cell phone with the security guard who works in the building where I give classes. (Security is tight on campus and there is a security guard for each building...and then some).  Oh. no.
But there was no way around it. I needed my keys so that I could get home as fast as possible and get out of these clothes! So, sopping wet, I hesitantly walked back towards my classroom to collect my things. Since I don´t normally stay on campus this late all I could do was pray that none of my students would be around.  But of course, no such luck. Just as a I had almost made it through the security door to safety one of my students walked by.
"Teacher! What happened?" He exclaimed as he took in my appearance, obviously bemused. 
"Oh I just got caught running in the rain," I mumbled as I tried to cross my arms over myself and move away. 
"You look good." He said, flashing a smile at me. 
I´m pretty sure my cheeks turned 10 shades of pink.
"Umm, thanks?" I mumbled, because what else do you say to a student who is complimenting you because you may or may not look like you just walked out of a scene from Bay Watch. 
I´m going to go die of embarrassment now.