If You Like Pina Coladas...

...then you should go to Bonaire, in the Netherland Antilles, right above South America, underneath Aruba and next to Jimmy Buffet.

It's so small their ants moved to a larger island.

The man who turned my sister Lindy and I on to Bonaire was Mr. B.B. from our NYC days. She and I lived together but I eventually encouraged her to move to L.A. She always got first dibs on the rich guys in NY. She was also dating Peter K. and Peter S. at the same time and they were all wealthy and would bring me along on dates to entertain them while they drooled over Lindy. It was really annoying to have to work that hard for a lobster dinner. Those bastards used to spike my drinks because they said I got funnier. Thanks for the blackouts, guys.

After one night with Peter S. and his group, a double shot of Green Chartreuse (which I thought was one shot) and a lot of wine, I went home and felt so sick I called my then current boyfriend The Doctor, who told me to get in a cab and come over. That's the last thing I remember.

The next morning I asked him what happened and he replied, "Well, you went on a DATE with another man...."

"MEN." I corrected him.

"Are you telling the story or am I? Then you got sick, called me, came over and threw up." Great.

One night Mr. B.B. asked Lindy if she wanted to go to Bonaire with him. "You can scuba dive, can't you?"

Lindy did many things well. She snow skied, water skied and once tread water in shark-infested waters between Africa and the Seychelle Islands trying to keep her friend alive because the yacht they were swimming off suddenly pulled anchor and left them behind.

Me? I cheat at Scrabble. And you KNOW how hard that is.

My sister has always been in amazing shape. She used to have great boobs. Seriously miraculous boobs. Until she discovered aerobics and then they disappeared. She was once on the cover of Muscle & Fitness magazine BUT SHE COULDN'T SCUBA AND LIED THAT SHE COULD.

The day she returned from Bonaire I was in our living room with my friend Louis. Lindy came in all bouncy and happy. She threw her luggage down and went into the kitchen with a bag of groceries. After a few minutes we heard the blender whirring. She came into the living room holding a Pina Colada and said "Now THIS is the best drink ever."

Every five minutes she went to the kitchen and emerged with a fresh drink.
"He wasn't that good in bed."
"I didn't even want to learn how to scuba."
"That island is SO fucking boring."
"His friends were a snooze fest."
"There's nothing to do but sit at the outdoor bar and drink."
"God that guy is a loser."
"The bartender said I drank all the pineapple juice on the island."

Eventually the blender stopped. After a while Louis and I noticed the silence and found her sprawled out on my bed, dead drunk.

Yeah, that guy was a real loser, Lindy.

End of chat.