A few friends and I had planned to meet in the crew bar last night at 11. If you get down there before 12, you can have a little bit of decent lighting and ambient, pleasant music. After that, a “guest dj” gets control of the stereo and turns the volume up to ear bleed levels and plays the exact same songs I have been hearing for 8 months. Well, last night was crew bingo. Drinks were free at the bar and 3 bingo games were going to happen with prizes of $400, $800, and $2,000. Bingo doesn’t do it for me. The spa girls came down, very dressed up and cute and waiting to be noticed, and said “we’re just here to drink.” The guys were all waiting for bingo.
I talked to a guy from Shore Excursions (although the lingo is: shorex) who is tall and smiles a lot and looks about 8 but is probably close to 40. I asked him if he likes bingo, he made a very disgusted, disappointed face and nodded. “On a Friday night at home, I like to play a quick game of bingo, then go hit the clubs.” He is from Vegas. He said he likes Vegas, but “I’m tired of the strip, I got a house, I’m just used to it. But I’ve lived there for 11 years.” I asked him when he got used to it—year 5? Year 2? He said: “Well…I was drunk for the first 5 years and then I was awake for the next 5 and then… The last year was great.” A YC asked him “which did you prefer--drunk or awake?” He said: “…that last year.” Oh. He’s now got a shorex job, which means he knows all about the tours, although the main part of his job is “sales—it’s all selling.” He said he loves it, although another shorex gentlman, tall, ballerina-ish from St. Lucia and very very gay interrupted and said “Shorex? I hate it. Ugh, I hate it. It’s all sales—I hate it.” The YC asked our shorex guy how he got the job—he’s only been working with ships for the past 2 years. He started in room service (and we about fainted, because he is an American), then moved to casino (which he hated because no one liked him because he was an American and was seen as taking a job away, in his opinion), then moved to shorex. Ships!
Our room steward bought a laptop, a very nice Sony Viao. The salesman told him he had to spent $125 on virus protection software, which he did not get. The salesman said “if you go on the internet without this virus protection, your computer will break” which was very bold and obviously a lie but terrified our room stewards, who spent $800 for 250 GB. Sam and I had fun getting mad at the salesman and insisting he get the freebie instead, although neither of us could remember the name of the freebie. We told him where to get good internet. I should note that crew laptops provide very different pinups. I saw one guy sitting in the corner of a mall in St. John, tucked next to a jewelry kiosk. He did a good job looking serious and frowning at his computer and hunching over it like it was a spreadsheet. The only problem was his back was against the escalator, so everybody coming down the escalator saw that he was meticulously studying the photo of a naked lady/teenager.
Our room steward Raynaldo is an ace ping pong player. He gets laser focus and sweats very hard and gives people a run for their money. One of his opponents got sick the morning after playing ping pong because he played too hard the night before. We asked Ray if he is the best, he shrugged and said “I won seven games.”
The iPhone has descended on our cast and circle of acquaintance. Getting an iPhone instantly makes you deeply boring to people who don’t have one. They are all nerding out to the point of distraction and social death. Like oh, playing a crossword puzzle in the middle of conversation or, oh, playing a virtual slot machine in the middle of conversation or, oh, having conversations about apps like apps are religious relics. And yes, I realize I would be this boring if I got one too. Yes.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
What is this thing called iPod
They shampooed the carpets, which we learned via sitting on them. Turns out if you are a hotel that works 24/7/365, you can’t do things on the day off.
Some differences between audiences, or rather, jokes by age range.
Masturbation:
Younger New Jersey=this is one of the most hilarious things said in my life
Older Leaf Peepers=I’ve never been more bored.
The line “stop, you’re going to pull something” whilst someone is exerting oneself:
Younger New Jersey=I’ve never been more bored.
Older Leaf Peepers=hahahaha, seriously he is really risking pulling something, do you see how he is bent over? I relate to back pain.
If you ask an assembled group of cruisers this question:
“He’s going to reveal a secret, what it that secret?”
They will say: “HE’S SECRETLY A WOMAN!”
If you say: “He’s going to reveal a secret, like ‘he’s secretly a woman,’ what is that secret?”
They will say: “HE’S GAY!”
They also enjoy: “HE’S A TRANSVESTITE!”
This means two of our actors have been secretly gay and secretly men/women millions of times. Our economic crisis gives us perspective on how annoying this actually is.
If you put a finger on the pulse of our audiences during our shows, the pulse would probably say “I find you boring” or “I am wildly transfixed, which I shall indicate via my silence.” I do not know if oldies relate well to people being socially awkward—maybe they are too old to care or realize worrying is a trivial way to spend your life or maybe regret how alienating their two lazy eyes have been through the course of their lives and don’t think it’s hilarious (this is a line form our song). Maybe our hilarious jokes are making them think.
There are various classes for the passengers, and I heard one today in the announcements which made me laugh out loud. It is the NCL “U” Technology class, in the Clipper Conference Room, Deck 8, Fwd at 2:30 p.m. entitled, and I am copying the punctuation: “What is this thing called iPod.” Yesterday’s class, in the Clipper Conference Room, Deck 8, Fwd at 4:45 p.m. was called “Why should I buy a Computer?” I like the idea that crotchety old people are yelling these questions and then had them answered very fully, because tomorrow’s seminar, at 9:30 a.m. in the Stardust Theater, Decks 7 & 8, Aft, is “Expand your horizons with your Computer.”
Some differences between audiences, or rather, jokes by age range.
Masturbation:
Younger New Jersey=this is one of the most hilarious things said in my life
Older Leaf Peepers=I’ve never been more bored.
The line “stop, you’re going to pull something” whilst someone is exerting oneself:
Younger New Jersey=I’ve never been more bored.
Older Leaf Peepers=hahahaha, seriously he is really risking pulling something, do you see how he is bent over? I relate to back pain.
If you ask an assembled group of cruisers this question:
“He’s going to reveal a secret, what it that secret?”
They will say: “HE’S SECRETLY A WOMAN!”
If you say: “He’s going to reveal a secret, like ‘he’s secretly a woman,’ what is that secret?”
They will say: “HE’S GAY!”
They also enjoy: “HE’S A TRANSVESTITE!”
This means two of our actors have been secretly gay and secretly men/women millions of times. Our economic crisis gives us perspective on how annoying this actually is.
If you put a finger on the pulse of our audiences during our shows, the pulse would probably say “I find you boring” or “I am wildly transfixed, which I shall indicate via my silence.” I do not know if oldies relate well to people being socially awkward—maybe they are too old to care or realize worrying is a trivial way to spend your life or maybe regret how alienating their two lazy eyes have been through the course of their lives and don’t think it’s hilarious (this is a line form our song). Maybe our hilarious jokes are making them think.
There are various classes for the passengers, and I heard one today in the announcements which made me laugh out loud. It is the NCL “U” Technology class, in the Clipper Conference Room, Deck 8, Fwd at 2:30 p.m. entitled, and I am copying the punctuation: “What is this thing called iPod.” Yesterday’s class, in the Clipper Conference Room, Deck 8, Fwd at 4:45 p.m. was called “Why should I buy a Computer?” I like the idea that crotchety old people are yelling these questions and then had them answered very fully, because tomorrow’s seminar, at 9:30 a.m. in the Stardust Theater, Decks 7 & 8, Aft, is “Expand your horizons with your Computer.”
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Love Boat, Martha's Vineyard
They are showing season one of The Love Boat on the crew channel. We have two channels only for crew, one plays a movie over and over all day, one plays one episode of one tv show over and over all day. This is why we are all addicted to House, which means we are all hypochondriacs and know about LPs and if anyone has any ailment, we think it is necrotic bowel, cancer, or some bizarre allergy we need a team of doctors to figure out. I may have said this already, but I can’t remember, because I can’t remember anything.
Anyway, to watch the Love Boat, which is a Princess ship that ports out of Los Angeles and goes to Mazatlan and Encinadas, is very very hilarious for someone who works on one. I.e., for everyone who is watching it. The crew cabins on the tv show are absurdly giant, bigger than the passenger cabins, the passenger cabins are so monsterous, I’ve never even actually seen one that big. The room steward isn’t constantly working and all of the people are young and hot. Everyone is American and the cruise director takes detailed, sincere interest in the personal lives of people on board. Classico. Classico classico classico. The hallways are giant, and we watch it like this: “no WAY that would happen.” Also, all of the women are tiny and hot and don’t need bras. This week, we have a large group of mentally handicapped adults and a family of people that wear turbans (this is how dead my word recall is). This means, at breakfast I heard a woman say “my back hurts, I mean my back hurts, my back hurts. It hurts. I hurt my back” about 30 times. O Love Boat! O Aaron Spelling! O the genius of marketing!
We went into Martha’s Vineyard again, finally (we are 2-6—they keep canceling it due to bad waves). It was crisp and beautiful and the leaves are turning and it smells like fall. We smelled a wood fire and went on the hunt for beer, because a beer in the afternoon on a crisp day is the reason we have civilization. We tooled around and came across a place that had gold lettering and was by a store called, this is not a joke, “Backdoor Donuts.” There was no one outside, so I thought “meh, let’s go somewhere else.” Then a very cape cod yachtie looking couple grabbed one of our party by the neck and led him into the restaurant. He said “this place is good! The menu is great! You’ll go here!” and his wife said “hahaha.” There were peanuts on the floor, so we entered. Then we went “eh, I don’t know…” but were already sitting down. The guy still held the member of our party by the neck and gave him a speech. The speech ended very positively for us, because it turned out they were the parents of the owner and treated all of us to a round of brewed on premesis amber ale. This was a coup. A delightful, delightful afternoon, with wood oven pizza.
There is some weird fascination in Martha’s Vineyard with Black Dog. There is a black lab in profile wearing a red collar with a kind of like thing on him—a bell? Something? It is all over Martha’s Vineyard. We went into the store fired by Amber Ale, so we didn’t really figure out the deal. Still. There is some kind of a deal.
Anyway, to watch the Love Boat, which is a Princess ship that ports out of Los Angeles and goes to Mazatlan and Encinadas, is very very hilarious for someone who works on one. I.e., for everyone who is watching it. The crew cabins on the tv show are absurdly giant, bigger than the passenger cabins, the passenger cabins are so monsterous, I’ve never even actually seen one that big. The room steward isn’t constantly working and all of the people are young and hot. Everyone is American and the cruise director takes detailed, sincere interest in the personal lives of people on board. Classico. Classico classico classico. The hallways are giant, and we watch it like this: “no WAY that would happen.” Also, all of the women are tiny and hot and don’t need bras. This week, we have a large group of mentally handicapped adults and a family of people that wear turbans (this is how dead my word recall is). This means, at breakfast I heard a woman say “my back hurts, I mean my back hurts, my back hurts. It hurts. I hurt my back” about 30 times. O Love Boat! O Aaron Spelling! O the genius of marketing!
We went into Martha’s Vineyard again, finally (we are 2-6—they keep canceling it due to bad waves). It was crisp and beautiful and the leaves are turning and it smells like fall. We smelled a wood fire and went on the hunt for beer, because a beer in the afternoon on a crisp day is the reason we have civilization. We tooled around and came across a place that had gold lettering and was by a store called, this is not a joke, “Backdoor Donuts.” There was no one outside, so I thought “meh, let’s go somewhere else.” Then a very cape cod yachtie looking couple grabbed one of our party by the neck and led him into the restaurant. He said “this place is good! The menu is great! You’ll go here!” and his wife said “hahaha.” There were peanuts on the floor, so we entered. Then we went “eh, I don’t know…” but were already sitting down. The guy still held the member of our party by the neck and gave him a speech. The speech ended very positively for us, because it turned out they were the parents of the owner and treated all of us to a round of brewed on premesis amber ale. This was a coup. A delightful, delightful afternoon, with wood oven pizza.
There is some weird fascination in Martha’s Vineyard with Black Dog. There is a black lab in profile wearing a red collar with a kind of like thing on him—a bell? Something? It is all over Martha’s Vineyard. We went into the store fired by Amber Ale, so we didn’t really figure out the deal. Still. There is some kind of a deal.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Crew Church, "I statue"
They had a large fellowship meeting on the ship tonight. It started at 11:30 p.m. (on a Thursday) and was held with the door open in a conference room, right next to another open-door conference room with a full set of chairs and two people watching Narnia: Prince Capsian on a wheeled-in flat screen. The preacher was an African-American (new york?) guy with dreads down his back. I was completely surprised to find the meeting and a guy pacing back and forth with two guitarists sitting next to him. He was doing a lot of yelling about men “stepping up” and how you have to be a good man or your how can you expect your kids to listen to you. To me, this was pretty boring. But my friend wasn’t at the bar, instead just the piano player playing for about 3 middle aged people seated like 3 rows back from him. So I walked by the fellowship meeting again and saw a surprising number of people, including the party hostesses. At this point, the preacher was yelling about how “I am here to life you up! I am here to give you the language of uplift!” and there is something about saying “ha ha ha give yourself a round of applause” or “ha ha ha WHAT A GREAT SUGGESTION!” that tips me into mental instability—which we did tonight. So I stood by the door and listened for a bit. He then said aloud very hilarious/wonderful things like “in your job! You have to be a servant! You have to smile and say ‘yes’ to some nasty no respecting condescending passenger who bought the cheapest ticket there is to get on here! But you have to say ‘yes’ and smile! Every time you do that! It is written down in the book of life—say it with me” and everyone did and he made them raise their hands a few times. Please remember this is happening off a hallway, with two passengers lazing in a room 6 feet away. They had the movie on to deafening levels, which…maybe the AV guys did on purpose so they could be as loud as they wanted in the other room.
I left because I thought I would get caught. Then the piano player from the man woman lounge act (he plays keyboards and sings, she sings) came out and said “we are having a fellowship! You should join!” But I had a previous engagement to see Detroit Rock City in the Kid’s Center. Where they project movies onto a white tarp that is nailed to the wall and the DVD sound cuts out about once every 10 minutes—not long enough to merit turning it off, just enough for everyone to go “WHY! WHY DOES IT DO THAT!” and then forget that they flipped out.
Today I also learned another aspect of the entertainment industry. That is the term “to statue.” Statue means “stand like a statue in a park.” But you say “I have to statue today” if you are someone who statues, which I met today, to my amazement. She said she can do it for about 2 hours, but the pros can do it for a solid 8, although you have to stretch a lot afterwards. This is fascinating. She also, to her credit and karma, tipped every street performer we came across and is a very happy, sunny little person.
I asked my cronie nouveau to propose to me on a bridge in Boston because Boston is insane and gorgeous. He did, I said no as was preplanned, but upset a kid on the bridge when cronie nouveau did a very dramatic reaction of “how dare you” and etc. as fits a hilarious and dramatic Broadway-ish tenor with great jeans and shoes and a German shirt and madras plaid vest that he felt confused about. One of my favorite stories about him is that he wanted to do ballet very badly as a little boy, and his parents said “NO you will play SOCCER.” He played for one game, and cried the entire way to the game and during the game. My soccer career highlights were picking warts, kicking the ball into our own goal, and doing cartwheels during the (boring) game when I was blocking the goalie. Now, both of us do theater.
I left because I thought I would get caught. Then the piano player from the man woman lounge act (he plays keyboards and sings, she sings) came out and said “we are having a fellowship! You should join!” But I had a previous engagement to see Detroit Rock City in the Kid’s Center. Where they project movies onto a white tarp that is nailed to the wall and the DVD sound cuts out about once every 10 minutes—not long enough to merit turning it off, just enough for everyone to go “WHY! WHY DOES IT DO THAT!” and then forget that they flipped out.
Today I also learned another aspect of the entertainment industry. That is the term “to statue.” Statue means “stand like a statue in a park.” But you say “I have to statue today” if you are someone who statues, which I met today, to my amazement. She said she can do it for about 2 hours, but the pros can do it for a solid 8, although you have to stretch a lot afterwards. This is fascinating. She also, to her credit and karma, tipped every street performer we came across and is a very happy, sunny little person.
I asked my cronie nouveau to propose to me on a bridge in Boston because Boston is insane and gorgeous. He did, I said no as was preplanned, but upset a kid on the bridge when cronie nouveau did a very dramatic reaction of “how dare you” and etc. as fits a hilarious and dramatic Broadway-ish tenor with great jeans and shoes and a German shirt and madras plaid vest that he felt confused about. One of my favorite stories about him is that he wanted to do ballet very badly as a little boy, and his parents said “NO you will play SOCCER.” He played for one game, and cried the entire way to the game and during the game. My soccer career highlights were picking warts, kicking the ball into our own goal, and doing cartwheels during the (boring) game when I was blocking the goalie. Now, both of us do theater.
Honeymooners, Singers
There is a honeymooning couple on our hallway. I know this because they have a 5”x5” black satin pillow hanging from their doorknob. It is surrounded by white lace and embroidered with tasteful pink lingerie. A tasteful top (jaunty and at a slant) and a pair of undies, with a pink bow and a rhinestone to accent it. On the very bottom of the pillow, it says, in script, “Princess.” I couldn’t usually see what this was because there was always a room service order over it. Now they have added a door hangie thing that says “SHH! We’re on our HONEYMOON!” in pink and black fun sorority girl lettering. They hang it from the shell on their door which seems brave. Each door has a shell with the room number and a little slot where you can put things, like bar bills or notes or “please call reception” or things you got at your bridal shower.
I went to see the a cappella group again, apparently with people but they didn’t show up, so I watched them wearing bright green in a sea of persons of advanced age. The audience again got insulted at the idea that the Clovers (I think) are not considered current music. When I walked in, there were 2 middle aged ladies dancing in the back, then I noticed 4 middle aged ladies dancing off to the side in the little hallway that is between Champagne Charlie’s (the piano bar) and the Duty Free shop. The wild one kept getting into every single song, even the slow ones, dancing and singing along. She quickly learned the words to a song about beer that goes to the tune of “Doe, a deer, a female deer” (dos, equis, a real good beer—or something) (the passengers love it). Generally the passengers love the a cappella guys and I love when they each had an instrument solo. The beatbox guy did a drum solo, the bass guy did a bass solo, then they did one together. Everyone was delighted.
There was a lot of traffic in and out of the venue, as per usual. We did a workshop in that same Champagne Charlie’s a few hours earlier. My favorite part was when a very old lady, hunched over, pushed her walker-with-a-seat through the little alley that naturally happens between presenters and audience. She said “excuse me!” and waved her hand. This is how you can learn not to get to pretentious or even attempt to talk about “artistic process” or anything.
I must also note that there is a hilarious thing that happens all the time on the ship, and that is the blaring of ambiance music. After our workshop, a lady asked us a question right beneath a speaker, which immediately started blaring insane musak. The other fun thing about those workshops is that people frequently ignore them and go on with their drinking and hanging out, which is fine. The only difficult aspect is that some people have naturally loud voices or are maybe trying to talk louder than us, so you sometimes pause and say “was that a question?” and no one reacts. Also, we have a DVD of scenes from Second City with stars in them—some scenes have very poor audio, which is frustrating for people trying to watch. So we skip them. Only problem being we don’t have a remote, so instead passengers see a sped up version of Chris Farley stripping and a sped up version of George Wendt (Cheer’s Norm) and we don’t watch it, which must be torture for a very specific type of person. We do watch a scene with Tina Fey and Rachel Dratch, and another one with Steve Carrell that we all get excited about, the passengers, not so much. They all know SNL and Bill Murray, but 30 Rock or Ms. Fey’s recent Emmy seems very unimportant to them. It should be less important to us, since one of the jokes in a 30 Rock was about how if her career goes in the toilet, she can always teach improv on cruise ships, hahaha, oh well. We have heard a lot of “you know who’s funny? Robin Williams.” type of revelations. So.
I would also like to take this time briefly to describe my cruise director. Every cruise director is fascinating and singular. This one is British and sounds like he is announcing couples skate in a roller rink when he does announcements. He also tells jokes like this, which kills the joke and confuses him and the audience. The best part is that he looks like a beanpole in business clothes with a springy step and an aggressively sensible haircut. He has glasses like mine and in pictures, he looks a little self-conscious. I am fascinated by him.
I went to see the a cappella group again, apparently with people but they didn’t show up, so I watched them wearing bright green in a sea of persons of advanced age. The audience again got insulted at the idea that the Clovers (I think) are not considered current music. When I walked in, there were 2 middle aged ladies dancing in the back, then I noticed 4 middle aged ladies dancing off to the side in the little hallway that is between Champagne Charlie’s (the piano bar) and the Duty Free shop. The wild one kept getting into every single song, even the slow ones, dancing and singing along. She quickly learned the words to a song about beer that goes to the tune of “Doe, a deer, a female deer” (dos, equis, a real good beer—or something) (the passengers love it). Generally the passengers love the a cappella guys and I love when they each had an instrument solo. The beatbox guy did a drum solo, the bass guy did a bass solo, then they did one together. Everyone was delighted.
There was a lot of traffic in and out of the venue, as per usual. We did a workshop in that same Champagne Charlie’s a few hours earlier. My favorite part was when a very old lady, hunched over, pushed her walker-with-a-seat through the little alley that naturally happens between presenters and audience. She said “excuse me!” and waved her hand. This is how you can learn not to get to pretentious or even attempt to talk about “artistic process” or anything.
I must also note that there is a hilarious thing that happens all the time on the ship, and that is the blaring of ambiance music. After our workshop, a lady asked us a question right beneath a speaker, which immediately started blaring insane musak. The other fun thing about those workshops is that people frequently ignore them and go on with their drinking and hanging out, which is fine. The only difficult aspect is that some people have naturally loud voices or are maybe trying to talk louder than us, so you sometimes pause and say “was that a question?” and no one reacts. Also, we have a DVD of scenes from Second City with stars in them—some scenes have very poor audio, which is frustrating for people trying to watch. So we skip them. Only problem being we don’t have a remote, so instead passengers see a sped up version of Chris Farley stripping and a sped up version of George Wendt (Cheer’s Norm) and we don’t watch it, which must be torture for a very specific type of person. We do watch a scene with Tina Fey and Rachel Dratch, and another one with Steve Carrell that we all get excited about, the passengers, not so much. They all know SNL and Bill Murray, but 30 Rock or Ms. Fey’s recent Emmy seems very unimportant to them. It should be less important to us, since one of the jokes in a 30 Rock was about how if her career goes in the toilet, she can always teach improv on cruise ships, hahaha, oh well. We have heard a lot of “you know who’s funny? Robin Williams.” type of revelations. So.
I would also like to take this time briefly to describe my cruise director. Every cruise director is fascinating and singular. This one is British and sounds like he is announcing couples skate in a roller rink when he does announcements. He also tells jokes like this, which kills the joke and confuses him and the audience. The best part is that he looks like a beanpole in business clothes with a springy step and an aggressively sensible haircut. He has glasses like mine and in pictures, he looks a little self-conscious. I am fascinated by him.
Intra Ship Transport
Also, a short description of walking somewhere.
The problem with the hallways is that they are about 4 feet wide. So if you are a person on vacation with your friends and you have no reason to hurry, you will probably stroll in these hallways. If you need to get somewhere, and are behind these slow moving hallway corks, your travel time will double. You cannot say “MOVE” and battle past them because they have seen you in a show or will see you in one and the idea is that they like you. Or if you say “MOVE” or “pardon me” they may want to talk to you about the show, which can quintuple your travel time. This is the patience exercise many of us unwillingly practice.
Sometimes we fantasize about life off the ship. Cooking, laying on a couch without surveillance watching, the people in uniforms dream about wearing crappy clothes. My favorite fantasy is “not having to respond like a servant. If someone asks me directions I can say no or be rude or I don’t know.” This is from a youth counselor. There is a marked increase of “good evening ma’am” and “how are you tonight ma’am” in the buffet.
I did have a nice Indian gentleman make me some pasta. This was a highlight.
The problem with the hallways is that they are about 4 feet wide. So if you are a person on vacation with your friends and you have no reason to hurry, you will probably stroll in these hallways. If you need to get somewhere, and are behind these slow moving hallway corks, your travel time will double. You cannot say “MOVE” and battle past them because they have seen you in a show or will see you in one and the idea is that they like you. Or if you say “MOVE” or “pardon me” they may want to talk to you about the show, which can quintuple your travel time. This is the patience exercise many of us unwillingly practice.
Sometimes we fantasize about life off the ship. Cooking, laying on a couch without surveillance watching, the people in uniforms dream about wearing crappy clothes. My favorite fantasy is “not having to respond like a servant. If someone asks me directions I can say no or be rude or I don’t know.” This is from a youth counselor. There is a marked increase of “good evening ma’am” and “how are you tonight ma’am” in the buffet.
I did have a nice Indian gentleman make me some pasta. This was a highlight.
I shall do this again. Hair.
We have only 3 cruises left, then we are free.
I will be doing another cruise because I want to for pure reasons. Or rather, ever been in debt for a while? Ever had that debt go away? Remember how that feels? Well, it’s not bad. And also, how about a year solid on a boat? What will happen then? How many desserts can one person inhale? Will there ever be enough? Will treadmills ever be remotely fun? Can I finally see the fuel (no)? How many seasons of television can a human consume? What’s the port of Miami like? How is Christmas on a boat/will it result in alcohol poisoning? And of course: What will happen with my hair?
If some guys are upset by the degree that they are interested in sports, I am possibly equally upset by the degree that I find hair interesting. There is an adult woman with Down’s Syndrome on the boat who has a swingie haircut and highlights. Most of the Midwestern women look the same (short, curling-ironed, beige-ie colored). The east coast ladies can be a little more Carmella Soprano or the brunette equivalent. I went into a very vegetarian/vegan/community coffee shop in Halifax that has a dove as part of it’s logo and posters all over the place with lists of like “how to stop global warming!” and “how to build community!” and when I said I wanted a copy of my receipt, I felt guilty. Everything is aggressively recycled. There were two maps of the world on the wall, both of them the special map that is upside down. One on the side wall in the main shop, one on the way to the bathroom. When you use the bathroom, you are forced to stare at a “how to build community” list. I hate being told what to do, even if I agree with what I am being told. I had the same haircut as 3 of the women who worked there.
I will be doing another cruise because I want to for pure reasons. Or rather, ever been in debt for a while? Ever had that debt go away? Remember how that feels? Well, it’s not bad. And also, how about a year solid on a boat? What will happen then? How many desserts can one person inhale? Will there ever be enough? Will treadmills ever be remotely fun? Can I finally see the fuel (no)? How many seasons of television can a human consume? What’s the port of Miami like? How is Christmas on a boat/will it result in alcohol poisoning? And of course: What will happen with my hair?
If some guys are upset by the degree that they are interested in sports, I am possibly equally upset by the degree that I find hair interesting. There is an adult woman with Down’s Syndrome on the boat who has a swingie haircut and highlights. Most of the Midwestern women look the same (short, curling-ironed, beige-ie colored). The east coast ladies can be a little more Carmella Soprano or the brunette equivalent. I went into a very vegetarian/vegan/community coffee shop in Halifax that has a dove as part of it’s logo and posters all over the place with lists of like “how to stop global warming!” and “how to build community!” and when I said I wanted a copy of my receipt, I felt guilty. Everything is aggressively recycled. There were two maps of the world on the wall, both of them the special map that is upside down. One on the side wall in the main shop, one on the way to the bathroom. When you use the bathroom, you are forced to stare at a “how to build community” list. I hate being told what to do, even if I agree with what I am being told. I had the same haircut as 3 of the women who worked there.
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