Count Fastracula recently took a trip to Mexico to meet his creator–Heather Harwood–the woman whose illustrations breathed life into his undead, plushy form. With a few hours to kill on a layover in Mexico City, he decided to take in some of the city’s tastes and sights.
A craving for seafood led us to a little restaurant known for its delicious crab claws–manitos de cangrejo (little crab hands). But thanks to the Count’s butchery of the language, he actually ordered a considerably less appealing dish–manitos de conejo (little rabbit hands). If not for our waiter’s ability to interpret the Count’s horrifying pronunciation, instead of a crab feast, we’d have dined on the appendages of Bambi’s little pal Thumper.
But the embarrassments didn’t stop there. The Count doesn’t like seeds in his salsa, so he attempts to request it sin semillas (without seeds). However, his pronunciation sounds more like sin semena (without semen). The next time you’re out for Mexican food, ask for semen-free salsa and enjoy the wild-eyed stares and giggles.
After some food, there was just enough time for a little sight-seeing before catching our flight to meet the Count’s creator, Heather. (Some sights were more interesting than others.)
The Count took to Heather right away. They got to know each other over margaritas.
All too soon it was time to head back to the airport and home. Until next time, adios Mexico! And may your salsa always be sin semena.
Count Fastracula was feeling stressed. He needed a break from the daily vampire grind. We decided a quick trip up the coast would be the perfect distraction and just the thing to revive his undead spirit.
On our way to the beach we made a quick overnight stop in Solvang, CA (or as the Count calls it, Solfang). We arrived just in time to celebrate Danish Days. Although we’re not Danish, who can resist the lure of Viking horns.
We quickly settled into our hotel and went
off to explore the festivities. The Count even
crossed some things off his “to-do” list at
the candle shop where he stocked
up on lighting for the castle.
From there we surveyed the various vendor booths and food stands. All that walking made us both thirsty, so we visited the Solvang Brewing Company to drain a pint. In typical vampire fashion, the Count didn’t know when to stop drinking. Before long he started seeing double (or was that me?) and then embarrassed us both by passing out on the table. I carried him back to the hotel in my purse, poured him into his casket, and we called it a night.
After a quick shower the next morning, the Count was feeling like his undead self again, so we left Solfang and headed for the beach.
It was a glorious sunny day. Despite my protests, the Count insisted on sunbathing. Predictably, he started frying like back fat in an iron skillet. We relocated to a shady spot, which
we discovered was the perfect
vantage point to watch the elephant seals nap.
We decided to head back to the hotel. The Count insisted on stopping for “supplies,” which I now know is code for beer. I think the Count has a drinking problem. Or is it me?