Are You A Dominican Or A Dominican't?

It's the penultimate day of Spring Break. And there is snow on the ground. So this post will only be about warm places. First of all, still no word on Egypt. It's been one month since I got my email from Andrea something-or-other informing me that Madison accepted my application and forwarded it to the AUC offices in New York, and it's been two months since I first submitted the damn thing at all. Aside from when I was in the Dominican, I think I've checked my email at least once every two hours for the past two months. Hopefully something arrived in Andrea's mailbox over Spring Break and I'll hear about it when she returns to her office on Monday.

Anyway, the Dominican was awesome. Since it wouldn't be a vacation without me getting sick/allergic to something/having my face swell up/receiving near-3rd degree sunburns, I opted for the latter this time. And it wasn't all over my body; it only chose select patterns, making it look like I had some sort of awful skin disease. See?:
Other than learning that applying SPF 40 sunblock does absolutely nothing, here are some other things I learned during the week:

• Dominican men love blondes. Melissa was hit on to no end. Some were fairly subtle, just giving her sly winks, but others thought the proper way to go about it was to request, "Let me have your body just once, please."
• At all-inclusive resorts, a truly excellent meal is rather rare.
• At lower-class all-inclusive resorts, there will only be one or two attractive topless women on the beaches. The others will make you wish for only four senses.
• Scottish people, no matter how drunk, can still be amazing pool players.
• Michael Jackson travels under military escort.
• From what I've seen, all sharks are pussies.
• If you're being shoved into a small motor boat by two men who speak almost no English and, technically, no motorized vehicles are allowed on the water, just go with the flow.

And that essentially sums up the trip. Just like you were there with us, huh?