What the heck is "Brick"? - 1/29/2016

I really appreciate all of you who still read my updates, who call me "s-munny"(remember, the portmanteau of "smart/funny" is still preferable to "fart")but I'm no Amy Schumer.  I went to Open Mic Night once, in my 20's, and lasted about 30 seconds on stage.  I think I'd last longer on a mechanical bull. I flipped off the misogynistic emcee for not giving me more time.  He smugly thanked me, and as me and the girls were doing our Walk of Shame out of the Comedy Club in Philly, the asshole said something like: "Give those three a half a quaalude and they'll do anything you want." Okay, that might have been true for my friends.  Me?? I needed to know your parents' name, your middle name, and where you went to high school before I'd even consider cooking you a roast beef dinner. Jim discovers that there are indeed Water Aerobics here, just in the ocean and not around the pool as we believed. I wish I had checked that out earlier. (and would have, if someone slipped me a half a quaalude) We were in the water earlier and a snorkeler swam by, and we tried to ask him if he had seen any fish yet, but he didn't understand what we were asking, even with our gestures. I ask:  "POISSON? POISSON?" and he nods and swims away.  It amuses me that this is the French word for "fish." (I might not be so amused if the French word for "ribeye steak" sounded so similar to "poison." )I'm glad I got some nap time in today. Even cracked open the Kindle. Being here in Guadeloupe now reminds me of how I've kind of already been here, when those aforementioned slutty friends from the comedy club debacle would come here and seduce french chefs. I lived vicariously through their detailed sex-capades, as those reading this are experiencing an actual "I was there too!" moment as they sense what it's like to be told off by a sociopathic octogenarian just because you can't confirm that the fluffy stuff with raisins and burnt caramel edges is bread pudding. I wonder why I got kicked off the stage at my only attempt at Open Mic night? I wonder if people read my blog, since I haven't gotten any likes or comments? I wonder if you tell me your middle name and where you went to high school, how far would we go? And here's my mid-afternoon update: This stuff has gotta stop. I am excited.  The lunch buffet has a theme.  International Cuisine, they called it.  Each serving vessel had a card in front of it, with beautiful calligraphy, describing the vessel's contents in French, Italian, Spanish, and finally English. Curiosity brings me to the longest line, where diners  of  various ethnicities are eagerly awaiting a turn at the ladle. I get close and read the Specialty of the Day.  In French, it says "Brick." In Italian, it also says "Brick." In Spanish, I see they are serving "Brick." And..oh, you're gonna guess how this ends.  I didn't even try the American version of "Brick"..I was afraid I'd sample some, digest it, and later on I'd be sh*tt*ing..oh, I'm not going there on second thought.  This blog already has too much toilet humor