The Breakfast Buffet Club

Friday, September 22, 2017

I was up bright and early once again around sunrise. A 9:30 pm bed time will do that to you. I headed over to the gym and had a little one-on-one time with my homegirl Jillian Michaels to start my day. We aren’t sure if it was the workouts, the massages or the yoga, but everyone is awkwardly sore today and moving slow. We headed breakfast with our beach bags in hand so that we could smuggle out food for lunch. We opted out of the all-inclusive package for our stay because (a) the Jew in me would be determined to get my money’s worth, resulting in five days of me being completely shit faced, (b) the exorbitant price led me to believe that I’m probably the only one of us even capable of drinking enough to make the plan cost effective, and (c) I think we can all agree five days of all-you-can-eat food is highly unnecessary for a girl who needs an aggressive lesbian to yell at her through an iPad to facilitate a decent workout. Yesterday we saw some couples making sandwiches from the breakfast veggie and cold-cut bar and sneaking them out. We already steal free water bottles from the gym in the morning, so I’m definitely not above putting a sandwich in my purse to save a buck.

Breakfast was surprisingly entertaining, thanks to all the couples that are visibly sick of each other. In addition to staring at their phones for a respite from speaking to their significant other, I noticed that they also utilize stuffing large quantities of food into their faces as a means of avoiding conversation. Eye contact is also virtually non existent here. One couple in particular was seated directly in front of me and I couldn’t help but notice how utterly miserably they looked. This bitch has a diamond ring the size of a marshmallow while she eats chocolate croissants at buffet breakfast in the fucking Maldives, probably on a honeymoon after blowing her parent’s 401(k) on a lavish wedding, and she has the nerve to look miserable? This wasn’t just a serious case of resting bitch face either. This brat was visibly in the throws of a grown woman temper tantrum. Her husband was a too engrossed in his instagram to give a shit. Probably sending dick pics via DM to his wife’s bridesmaids in the hopes of bolstering his manhood given the castrating glare his bride was sending his way. I snuck pictures of the happy couple for your enjoyment. #relationshipgoals

After breakfast we headed down to one of the beaches and snagged some beach chairs with a premium view that I had eyed the other day. The on-site photographer apparently agrees with my location scouting because she brought all the couples to this beach for their romantic photo shoot. Everyone that stays at the resort gets a free half hour shoot with the resident photographer. The only thing better than a beach view in the Maldives is awkward couples fake running down the beach for your entertainment. My favorite duo of the day were the ones who did the Dirty Dancing running leap into a lift. Just substitute in two middle aged white people and cut the vertical in about half and you can probably picture it. I couldn’t get my phone out in time to snap an pic, but trust me when I tell you it was awesome. Second place goes to the picture of the woman blowing a kiss at her husband while he pretended to be “blown away” by it. Get it? I’m trying to talk the girls into doing our own photo shoot. I’m thinking three woman pyramid on the sand, but I’m open to suggestions.

We had about ten minutes of rain in the late morning, which was pretty much the most exciting part of the day. It’s technically rainy season in the Maldives at the moment so we lucked out that this intermittent cloud burst was the worst of it. After beach time we headed back to our over water bungalow and floated in our private plunge pool while reading our kindles. Once our skin hit the vitamin D max we showered and got drunk on the bottles of wine in our mini bar before heading to dinner. We did our own little photo shoot on our deck – which reminded me of our “headshots du jour” from our France trip a few years ago. My online dating profile is looking rather worldly. I’m like the fucking Carmen SanDiego of tinder. If you don’t know who that is, you’re too young to be reading this blog. Spinster bed time was at about 9 pm again tonight.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

I think I figured out why the couples at breakfast were so miserable yesterday. They must have been on the island for a solid week and were losing their fucking minds with cabin fever. Today’s crop of couples at breakfast seemed far less bitter. They looked like island newbies, with fresh smiles on their faces. They even exhibited normal couple behavior such as talking, touching and looking in each other’s general direction. Not to fear, honeymooners, there is hope. At this point I’ve planned so many honeymoons for my friends and been on so many friendmoons that I feel like an expert. Perhaps I should start a consulting business that will (a) plan your honeymoon and (b) tell you how to have some fucking fun while on your honeymoon. You know what they say – those who can’t do, teach. The millionaire matchmaker can’t find a man for herself to save her life, yet people still pay her to set them up. So why not let a perpetually single girl be in charge of some couples retreats? Someone needs to help these people factor the pigment of their skin into their honeymoon destination choice, because they obviously aren’t doing it for themselves.  Once again, this blog just bleeds with entrepreneurial spirit.  My “how not to be a moron” class never really got off the ground, but I think Spinster Travel, LLC has some real promise.  I obviously need help on name ideas

After breakfast we were determined to use the snorkel gear that we picked up in the dive shop yesterday. We geared up in our masks and fins and set out off the back of our bungalow into the ocean. Every time I go on vacation I watch the other tourists spend hours snorkeling and I think to myself, I must be missing something. So I try it again. Can we all just be honest and admit that snorkeling is fun for all of about five minutes? I can’t be the only person who gets bored swimming around looking at fish and coral while my eyes start to sting from salty sea water leaking through my mask and my feet cramp up from fins cutting off my circulation. We certainly gave it the old college try as we snorkeled around the island to the main beach. I included some pics for you just in case you actually give a shit about random fish. We walked back down the beach to the safety of our bungalow and got back to doing what we do best – floating and reading.

At one point in the day I got adventurous and took my raft down to the beach where I tried something new and different…floating and reading in the ocean. I was really thinking outside the box. We lazed away the afternoon, alternating between floating, laying out and napping. It’s amazing how time flies when you aren’t doing shit. Before we knew it, it was time for sunset yoga with our favorite Namaste Nazi. The group was bigger this time, and only a few of the woman managed to drag their significant others with them. I settled into a spot in the back row behind a guy with great arms.  My sun salutation was more of a bow to his biceps. The sunset wasn’t the only nice view I had during that yoga session. Yeah yeah, I know he’s taken, but l’m only window shopping. His appeal went downhill significantly once he turned around anyway. Luckily the front of him is his girlfriend’s problem, not mine. Also joining us at yoga today was Resting Bitch Face from breakfast yesterday! She was your typical skinny bitch with a big diamond who is great a yoga. Other than that, nothing too notable. We just performed the “normal inhalations and exhalations” as Namaste Nazi suggested. At one point I swear he laughed at me attempting to do a post. My flexibility is so pathetically hilarious that not even Namaste Nazi can resist a chuckle.

Ocean floating

We had a few glasses of wine back at the room and then headed out to dinner at “Sand” restaurant, which is, you guessed it, on the sand. The entire resort is technically on sand, but this restaurant is out on the beach with tables under little huts. The chefs cook outdoors in an open air hut as well, which is pretty cool. We ordered some fancy dinner and bottle of wine while we creeped on an adorable older couple having a “romantic dinner” out on the beach under the stars surrounded by lanterns and lights.

Saturday night is “DJ Night” at the main bar. We actually walked over to take a look at the scene, not because we wanted to join, but because we thought there might be some decent people watching. Much to our dismay but not to our surprise, Resting Bitch Face was not out on the dance floor dropping her scrawny ass like its hot. Nor was the chubby couple re-enacting their dirty dancing floor routine. Just a bunch of couples sitting around whispering to each over loud music with a disco ball overhead and lights flashing. Having fun at this “party” would require more alcohol than I’m willing to pay for and more calories than I’m willing to work off. We headed back to the room and left the couples to have their fun.

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One thought on “The Breakfast Buffet Club”

  1. I’ve been pushing for the Rory travel agency for years!! Private trip planning + group excursions with Rory as tour guide / fun coach … I don’t see how this could fail.

    PS where was the pic of awkward couples at brunch you promised?

    Like

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