Que Sera Sarong

I'm still unpacking and organizing the things I brought back from Guam. I should stop telling people that I went to Guam because they keep asking me ignorant questions:

1. What kind of money do they use there?
Response: you know those little cowry shells and shiny rocks you see on the beach? THEY DON'T USE THAT THERE.

2. What language do they speak?
Response: ::very slowly:: ENGLISH

Among the things I brought back was a bright red sarong with a big hibiscus printed on it. I bought it at the Chamorro Village after a lot of persuading from my friend Patricia and the cutie shop owner who I think was named Marco. Marco told me that the sarongs look good on anyone and he recommended the red one because it went with my skin tone. What straight island boy matches colors with skin tones? There are none.

When I pulled out the sarong last night, I got all excited because I had this vision of what I'd look like when I wore it. Then I stopped and stared at it, trying to drape it around me and I realized that I didn't know the first thing about sarongs. I did what anyone would do in this situation. I visited eHow's "how to tie a sarong." I didn't have any luck with that, so I just tied it like I saw in the picture.

It was horrible. I'd just eaten a roast beef sandwich and my stomach was pooched out so I looked like I was in my third trimester. The way I tied it made me look like I was wearing a very long dress, so I folded it in half and tied it again to accentuate my tree trunk-like calves.

I wanted to look like one of those island boys you see in the gay ads for island tours in the Pacific. Instead, I looked like a bloated tourist trying too hard to fit in. Then I made the mistake of trying to snazz up the ensemble by accessorizing it with a kukui nut lei and that just made it worse.

Now the sarong will just have to collect dust with the other world heritage impulse buys like the yukata from Japan.