I mentioned earlier that I accidentally forgot to bring our camera to Puerto Vallarta.
And I’m so glad I did.
Why? Because the photos my friend Julie shot turned out way better than anything I could have taken with our 2007 Cannon Power Shot.
No…I didn’t pick the Powershot because Maria Sharapova was in the commercial.
Photo by ChrisGampat
I picked for much more important reasons…you know, like the white fluffy dog in the commercial.
Anyway, Julie’s photos are so beautiful, I couldn’t help but throw them up on the blog and rub the awesomeness of our vacation all over the internet’s face, making it extremely jealous.
Because the internet can never go on vacation, obviously.
Take that, internet.
The beach at our resort. I’m guessing this was taken early in the morning before it was littered with empty pina colada cups and cellulite. (Mine included. On both accounts.)
The other side of the beach. In the distance is the restaurant where I accidentally ate a salad, appetizer, bacon wrapped fillet, brownie sundae, and two milkshakes cleverly disguised as blended cocktails over the course of one hour. Oh…and the prawns Scott couldn’t finish. Hence, the cellulite that littered the beach.
Being as we were in Mexico, Scott felt growing a mustache was necessary.
And then he transformed himself into Mexican artist Frida Kahlo
The real Frida. I have a sneaking suspicion this is what Salma Hayek would look like without the modern luxury of waxing.
The gang. (Our gang sign is holding up an empty margarita glass and gesturing for a refill.)
I was feeling pretty hard-core after showing the waves that Hurricane Katrina was boss. And then Scott pointed out the blood running down my back, which was covered with boogey board scrapes. Five minutes later, I was stung by a hornet. So much for being hard-core.
Oh you KNOW I wasn’t going to Mexico without my Easter bonnet fascinator. I did make the mistake of wearing it the night of a huge wedding at the resort, and kept getting confused for the bride. Woopsie.
The girls. It kind looks like an Oreo where everyone is really tan, and I’m the pale, white icing in the middle.
It’s just not a vacation until someone uses a nursing breast pump on their chin. While wearing a ridiculous tank top, naturally.
Scott, exfoliating himself. This might even be worse than the breast pump/tank top combo.
Again, I am the pasty white frosting of a very tan Oreo.
Scott and I on the beach. There’s another photo where I look much skinnier, but Scott’s doing something inappropriate, so I couldn’t use it. That’s why I appear royally pissed off while he’s looking quite pleased with himself.
Told you I looked skinnier
Getting ready to SCUBA. Sadly, this is probably the most flattering swimsuit I wore the entire week.
I look so uncomfortable here. Probably because Scott was still wearing his seaweed mustache.
You know how they say if you kiss a sea turtle, you’ll turn into a skinny person? Okay…so maybe I made that legend up. For the record, it doesn’t work.
“I can’t believe I got my hair done for nothing. I’m just going to have to keep knocking over Katrina’s lattes until she finally agrees to bring me on vacation.”
Maybe next year, Jolie. In the mean time, if you’re going to knock over a perfectly good caramel macchiato, the least you can do is lick it up.
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