And I know what you're thinking. Won't that just shed more light on the penises. But that is a risk we have to take.

For a change, Patrick and I are writing this blog together. This is because our weekend was peppered with one spectacularly awesome incident after another and we couldn't decide who got to write about it. So we're sharing. Both the writing and the bottle of white rum. Kidding. -Ish. Well, first off, a series of unfortunate events forced us to search for a new place to live, hopefully of our own. We're optimistic and supremely excited to have more freedom and privacy. Patrick feels oppressed in our present situation as he cannot wander about the house in his underwear. This includes venturing into the kitchen to fetch a swig of juice. I must concede that I myself wouldn't mind more scantily clad migratory behavior as Jamaica is quite warm. Cross your fingers for us, we are hoping some of our leads pay off. And a big thanks to the other volunteers in our area who have been instrumental to our housing search. So our living arrangements have been a pressing concern since last Thursday. Luckily, we've had an interesting weekend and thus have been granted a reprieve from our domestic concerns. We began our weekend with a trip to a local seaside bar/restaurant with other volunteers and a visitor from abroad. The restaurant was literally right on the water with the omnipresent white plastic patio chairs and cheap beer and reasonably priced entrées. But what really makes this establishment special is the live music. To our extreme delight, Friday nights are country western music night!!! You may be asking yourself, “Do Jamaicans like country music?” The answer to that is a hearty, “yes.” Throughout the night we were treated to music from the greats including Jimmy Buffet, Kenny Rogers, and Johnny Cash. Let’s not forget “The Rooster Song” which Patrick sang at boy scout camp, “No Balls at All” a particular favorite of the Jamaicans present, and “The Pum Pum Song” I do not know the real name of this song, but the chorus goes “pum, pum, pum” and in Jamaican slang “pum pum” means girlie bits. Perhaps the best part of “The Pum Pum Song” was listening to the band and the Jamaicans discuss whether the rest of the restaurant understood “pum pum.” They then proceeded to enlighten the table of gay, foreign men using food analogies. This incident cleared up some confusion at our table as to whether we had accidentally stumbled upon a gay bar. So the band. Haha. The band was two pieces of beef jerky holding guitars with microphones attached. Patrick felt that the band members were Hispanic Jamaicans. I agree that their Patwa was exceptional, however I think they were just tanned and leathery white people. Regardless of nationality, they were brown and wrinkly. Just like beef jerky, if it were dressed in western shirts, worn Levis adorned with monstrous belt buckles, well-loved 10 gallons, and dusty cowboy boots. Oh yes, these boys took their job seriously. Not only did they bother to learn all of their songs, they pre-recorded drum beats on their keyboard. We were just wondering, in the land of dancehall, how often does a country band get to perform? We say, “not often enough!” Great night. Everyone who visits will be treated to country night. Quite the incentive, eh? The next morning, we participated in international beach clean-up day. The two of us, plus several other volunteers trouped down to the nearby fishing village with about 20 kids. We filled 15 large garbage bags before the kids lost interest. After that, we bravely ventured into the water with the children. We almost drowned. At all times, we would have at least 4 kids dangling from our necks and arms. I spent a good deal of the time attempting to keep my swimsuit in place. It couldn’t withstand the kids literally crawling up me, or them pulling at the straps to marvel at how white I was. It was a long, exhausting day. All of the white people burned their noses. We did enjoy a fabulous lunch courtesy of a local Rasta. Thanks for your comments last time! We enjoyed them. Miss you all! -Patrick and Erin

p.s. It was me, Erin, who picked the phallic quote. All issues concerning the appropriateness of the phallic quote should be directed to me.