Today is another sea day. It is the day when yapping is born anew, resurging with new commitment. Where you go to the library to yell. Or, if you are a large gentleman, to sit, read and every 3 seconds, cough or clear your throat.
I am currently sitting in Mama’s Italian Kitchen, a deserted restaurant, because it is the quietest place on the ship. The place where there is the least amount of noise if you can tune out the following:
Italian instrumental music with occasional singing.
People randomly entering.
People running back and forth, like a tripping hippopotamus, on the metal floor above this room. So: constant booming.
People pouring hundreds of pieces of silverware from one container to another.
Now there is an upset baby and two parents who sound German. The baby is probably like “WHY CAN’T I GET SOME QUIET”
I used to get very extremely angry about working alone in a silent gray office with gray gray gray. This is karma.
Other notations:
I ran yesterday on the treadmill next to a square, middle aged gray haired guy. Each treadmill has a tv. You are supposed to put headphones in to use the tv, there is a sign that says “headphone jack is in the back.” Well, usually people just turn up the volume and watch tv. The guy next to me watched a football game for a second, then turned it to the Kate Winslet, Cameron Diaz “The Holiday,” a terrible, sappy romantic comedy. He watched it for the rest of his workout, on full volume. His expression never changed from "I am watching the news."
I took the tender boat back from St. Lucia and sat next to an old couple. The woman had a Casio calculator watch in a pearlescent gray. I did not know that existed, and I did not ask her when she bought it. But I wanted to. Her husband was a giant person with a plaid flannel shirt, suspenders, and a straw hat. Immediately after going through security, he came to the first ship person he saw, which was a Nepalese security guard and said: “what restaurant’s open now?”
My favorite viewing from St. Lucia was a guy in a shirt that had those iron-on homemade-ish letters from the 70’s that said “ARMANI EXCHANGE.” Also, a lone guy randomly swimming in his black underwear with a white elastic band.
Bethany is crazy and overreacts to everything. This is a secret belief I always had and never told anyone. HI BETHANY.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
GI stories
We are getting closer and closer to the holidays. Today we are in St. Lucia.
Random hilarious things:
Our magician, who is a delightful French Canadian, said with complete, earnest honesty: “I love pad thai.”
There is a standup on another ship that always eats 5 almonds a day, and gets things in his brain, like “I’m going to do more pushups than anyone has ever done” or tells people that he can throw a football 300 yards. This man is in his 40s.
We have GI on our ship, which means we have to sanitize constantly and other people have to serve us at the buffet. The cleaning people and crew are having their lives ruined. The interesting thing about GI is that it sneaks up on you. You go from not having it, to having it 100% over the course of about a second. This means, things happen, like a passenger was at reception, explaining “my tour came late, we are really unhappy about this because we paid a very--!!!!!” and his eyes went wide because the guy, to be poetic: suddenly shat his pants.
There is a ballroom couple in every showroom show. They are a male and female pair. Frequently, the male lifts the female and she does dramatic things with her arms and smiles. Apparently, he lifted her so he was holding her thighs around the level of his shoulder, and the end of the move is that she would slide down the front of him and then they would proceed into the tango, or whatever. Something dramatic happened in her intestines, which also went all down the front of him. The only saving grace is that when GI hits, apparently, it is clear.
LESS INTERESTING:
I now have a roommate again. This means another adult sleeps 6 feet from me in a metal room that conducts sound. We will shortly know more about each other than either of us ever wanted to know. Like: some people like to floss in bed. I am not used to it yet, so every time she moves, I wake up.
Random hilarious things:
Our magician, who is a delightful French Canadian, said with complete, earnest honesty: “I love pad thai.”
There is a standup on another ship that always eats 5 almonds a day, and gets things in his brain, like “I’m going to do more pushups than anyone has ever done” or tells people that he can throw a football 300 yards. This man is in his 40s.
We have GI on our ship, which means we have to sanitize constantly and other people have to serve us at the buffet. The cleaning people and crew are having their lives ruined. The interesting thing about GI is that it sneaks up on you. You go from not having it, to having it 100% over the course of about a second. This means, things happen, like a passenger was at reception, explaining “my tour came late, we are really unhappy about this because we paid a very--!!!!!” and his eyes went wide because the guy, to be poetic: suddenly shat his pants.
There is a ballroom couple in every showroom show. They are a male and female pair. Frequently, the male lifts the female and she does dramatic things with her arms and smiles. Apparently, he lifted her so he was holding her thighs around the level of his shoulder, and the end of the move is that she would slide down the front of him and then they would proceed into the tango, or whatever. Something dramatic happened in her intestines, which also went all down the front of him. The only saving grace is that when GI hits, apparently, it is clear.
LESS INTERESTING:
I now have a roommate again. This means another adult sleeps 6 feet from me in a metal room that conducts sound. We will shortly know more about each other than either of us ever wanted to know. Like: some people like to floss in bed. I am not used to it yet, so every time she moves, I wake up.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Holiday Parties
We are approaching holiday time on the ship. Last night was the first of what is going to be an endless cavalcade of December parties. We will be in the weird situation of our bosses delivering us wine and beer. Once upon a time in the Chicago of my youth, friends of mine and I would go out to freebie or almost freebie happy hours and work a specific system that went “go to the bar and get as many drinks as you can carry” and then we’d stand around a table which looked like a lemonade stand or a cafeteria. Last night I got a glass of wine. The YC behind the counter gave me two because “we’re gonna run out!” and “THIS is how IIII have a crew party!!” The small problem is that when you’re like “I’m being so sensible. I had a mere two glasses of wine. I am so sensible.” you may also be yelling your private negative opinions of someone important to someone you met 3 seconds earlier because “YOU’RE WEARING GLITTER THAT’S FUN!!!!” This is because a crew bar glass of wine is a plastic, disposable juice glass filled up to a half inch below the top, sometimes less. So I think, based on personal behavior (“HE’S CUTE BUT HIS PANTS ARE WEIRD BUT THAT’S PROBABLY BECAUSE HE’S PORTUGUESE”) and the degree we all started yelling at each other, two glasses=2/3 bottle.
I heard more Moulin Rouge stories last night, including the fact that nothing is conducted in French within the theater. Everyone who works there is English, Australian or Russian. Also, they only do new shows once every 10 years because they sell out every night (and tickets are like 125 Euros), so management thinks why bother changing it. There are places all over Paris reserved for Moulin dancers, places that are always VIP and mean you pay for nothing. Also, Moulin dancers come in two flavors: “pah-ty girls” who are crazy and have personalities, and “girls from the ballet world” who are stuck up and serious and won’t let you see their boobs when they’re off stage. My very gay male dancer friend found this absurd “oh come on, what about when you were naked on stage right next to me? Remember that?”
I learned more about surveillance. They are supposed to be very SS Gestapo KGB CIA and not let anyone know they are surveillance. Except that the head guy’s name is posted on a wall. Delight.
Tonight? An open mic night for the crew. We have 2 shows, so I may have to miss it. Or rather: this will be hilarious.
There is also a possee of about 6 middle aged white women from New York who got wasted with one woman on a Rascal, went to the atrium and started singing the old 1989 rap song "Supersonic" into a microphone. The old "the S is for stupendous [I think] the U is for unique. The P is for perfection, the E is for Erotic and the R is for RRRRAP!" etc. The ended it with "SUPER SISTERRRRSSSSS!!!!!" They were all sisters, with their silent mom taking pictures from her Rascal. They then said "WHERE IS DESSERT!!!"
I heard more Moulin Rouge stories last night, including the fact that nothing is conducted in French within the theater. Everyone who works there is English, Australian or Russian. Also, they only do new shows once every 10 years because they sell out every night (and tickets are like 125 Euros), so management thinks why bother changing it. There are places all over Paris reserved for Moulin dancers, places that are always VIP and mean you pay for nothing. Also, Moulin dancers come in two flavors: “pah-ty girls” who are crazy and have personalities, and “girls from the ballet world” who are stuck up and serious and won’t let you see their boobs when they’re off stage. My very gay male dancer friend found this absurd “oh come on, what about when you were naked on stage right next to me? Remember that?”
I learned more about surveillance. They are supposed to be very SS Gestapo KGB CIA and not let anyone know they are surveillance. Except that the head guy’s name is posted on a wall. Delight.
Tonight? An open mic night for the crew. We have 2 shows, so I may have to miss it. Or rather: this will be hilarious.
There is also a possee of about 6 middle aged white women from New York who got wasted with one woman on a Rascal, went to the atrium and started singing the old 1989 rap song "Supersonic" into a microphone. The old "the S is for stupendous [I think] the U is for unique. The P is for perfection, the E is for Erotic and the R is for RRRRAP!" etc. The ended it with "SUPER SISTERRRRSSSSS!!!!!" They were all sisters, with their silent mom taking pictures from her Rascal. They then said "WHERE IS DESSERT!!!"
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Gymnasts. Olympiads. Okay.
We went to see Cirque Bijou last night, which I would like to say is filled with a bunch of lies. I could really insist that it was lies and real life animation if I didn’t talk to the people afterwards who oh, flung themselves around on silks and did crazy I-will-hold-myself-parallel-to-the-floor-with-just-my-arms-and-stomach-muscles. I also did laundry with the woman from Belarus who speaks English and Italian and was in the Atlanta Olympics for the ribbon and ball business. She is very friendly and married to the Italian who tans standing up. Then she gets on stage and does things like, oh dislocate her hip and rip her knee tendons while her husband is holding her above his head via his pointer finger. So they are probably drawings, clay, or stop motion aliens.
After that insane show, we waited to leave and a chatty American man who we found out was 50, sitting in the row below us, stood up to leave. He turned to the couple next to me, separated by one empty chair and said “Where are you from!” They said “ehm?” and he said “Where you from!” Then the wife said very quietly, “France.” Which made the guy lose his mind and start a tirade. “Oh France! Where in France!” She quietly said, “ehm, est?” Which I know means East, and also “I barely speak English.” Unfortunately the American guy said “Oh yeah! You guys hate Americans, right! You don’t like Americans!” and the people didn’t respond that I could hear, and he leaned in and said “You know I’ve never seen Europe, can you believe it, 50 years old and I’ve never seen it, I gotta get over there. You think France would be good to see, huh?” And they must have said “uh…” and he said “Cause I hear Paris is beautiful, but they sure don’t like Americans there, that’s what I hear. But you like ‘em, right? You think they’re okay.” And they must have said “uh…” a little more and he said “yeah, ‘cause you’re young. It’s the old ones that don’t like us, but you guys’re young” and then thankfully his row started moving. Then he spanked his wife’s ample bottom and got a little further along and said to a cast mate “where’re you from!” and someone said “Michigan” or something and he said “Thank God, Americans!” The French couple next to me talked quietly and then jumped a row to get out of there as fast as possible.
We then went to the bar and had some drinks on the cruise director. In the genius of cruise ships, mixed drinks are almost always doubles, so soon 2 cast mates were dancing via bumping butts and the couple behind them at the bar was laughing and we all met. This couple was Bob and Shirley, both from Florida. Since it is a cruise, I immediately assume everyone has been married for 30+ years, although Bob and Shirley seemed a little stiff and like they had way too much plastic surgery for someone who isn’t a talk show host or on tv or something. Bob lives in Daytona Beach and has been racing Nascar for 35 years and Shirley is originally from Terre Haute. Bob bragged that her opening line to him was “Do you do windows?” and they’ve been together ever since. Conversation waned a little bit and he said “I’ll let you get back to your friends” which I found slightly embarrassing, especially since I wanted to talk more about Nascar. That’s when a castmate who was drinking an apple martini purchased by Bob informed me that Bob and Shirley met a week ago and we were interrupting a date. Heh.
I talked to another gymnast/dancer I know from a different ship. He was a dancer for a year at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. He did the can-can, “126 kicks per show” six days a week, two performances a night. My mind exploded and I wanted him to tell all the stories possible, although I mainly got “there was a lot of cocaine” and “it’s very social there, cocaine, and cheap! So cheap.” Apparently they would do the show, go to a party, go to an after party that would start at 6 a.m. and then an after-after party that would start at noon, then sleep for 3 hours at 5 p.m. and get up and do another show. I prefer stories about costumes and dance steps.
We ended the night in a cabin party around 2 a.m. A cabin party is basically college, but with a bunch of foreigners. We went to the 2nd Engineer’s room, a guy from Romania (? Ukraine?) named Bolag or something. Bolav? We have been taught about the engineers, that the chief makes upwards of $40,000 a month and typically does a great deal of female engineering. It felt like 40 people were crammed in a closet, all going “BLAH BLAH BLAH HAHAHA” at once. Borav djed on his computer and an Eastern European guy in white gave a Filipino girl a weird lap dance and a dancer said “I’M GOING TO MAKE HIS TOWELS SMELL AND I DON’T CARE” and smoked in the tiny bathroom. I had to think about how it was boring and strange and how delicious room service is. Then we went back to a castmate’s room and yapped about who are decent musicians and who are crap and who are incredible, which is a good way to start an arguement.
After that insane show, we waited to leave and a chatty American man who we found out was 50, sitting in the row below us, stood up to leave. He turned to the couple next to me, separated by one empty chair and said “Where are you from!” They said “ehm?” and he said “Where you from!” Then the wife said very quietly, “France.” Which made the guy lose his mind and start a tirade. “Oh France! Where in France!” She quietly said, “ehm, est?” Which I know means East, and also “I barely speak English.” Unfortunately the American guy said “Oh yeah! You guys hate Americans, right! You don’t like Americans!” and the people didn’t respond that I could hear, and he leaned in and said “You know I’ve never seen Europe, can you believe it, 50 years old and I’ve never seen it, I gotta get over there. You think France would be good to see, huh?” And they must have said “uh…” and he said “Cause I hear Paris is beautiful, but they sure don’t like Americans there, that’s what I hear. But you like ‘em, right? You think they’re okay.” And they must have said “uh…” a little more and he said “yeah, ‘cause you’re young. It’s the old ones that don’t like us, but you guys’re young” and then thankfully his row started moving. Then he spanked his wife’s ample bottom and got a little further along and said to a cast mate “where’re you from!” and someone said “Michigan” or something and he said “Thank God, Americans!” The French couple next to me talked quietly and then jumped a row to get out of there as fast as possible.
We then went to the bar and had some drinks on the cruise director. In the genius of cruise ships, mixed drinks are almost always doubles, so soon 2 cast mates were dancing via bumping butts and the couple behind them at the bar was laughing and we all met. This couple was Bob and Shirley, both from Florida. Since it is a cruise, I immediately assume everyone has been married for 30+ years, although Bob and Shirley seemed a little stiff and like they had way too much plastic surgery for someone who isn’t a talk show host or on tv or something. Bob lives in Daytona Beach and has been racing Nascar for 35 years and Shirley is originally from Terre Haute. Bob bragged that her opening line to him was “Do you do windows?” and they’ve been together ever since. Conversation waned a little bit and he said “I’ll let you get back to your friends” which I found slightly embarrassing, especially since I wanted to talk more about Nascar. That’s when a castmate who was drinking an apple martini purchased by Bob informed me that Bob and Shirley met a week ago and we were interrupting a date. Heh.
I talked to another gymnast/dancer I know from a different ship. He was a dancer for a year at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. He did the can-can, “126 kicks per show” six days a week, two performances a night. My mind exploded and I wanted him to tell all the stories possible, although I mainly got “there was a lot of cocaine” and “it’s very social there, cocaine, and cheap! So cheap.” Apparently they would do the show, go to a party, go to an after party that would start at 6 a.m. and then an after-after party that would start at noon, then sleep for 3 hours at 5 p.m. and get up and do another show. I prefer stories about costumes and dance steps.
We ended the night in a cabin party around 2 a.m. A cabin party is basically college, but with a bunch of foreigners. We went to the 2nd Engineer’s room, a guy from Romania (? Ukraine?) named Bolag or something. Bolav? We have been taught about the engineers, that the chief makes upwards of $40,000 a month and typically does a great deal of female engineering. It felt like 40 people were crammed in a closet, all going “BLAH BLAH BLAH HAHAHA” at once. Borav djed on his computer and an Eastern European guy in white gave a Filipino girl a weird lap dance and a dancer said “I’M GOING TO MAKE HIS TOWELS SMELL AND I DON’T CARE” and smoked in the tiny bathroom. I had to think about how it was boring and strange and how delicious room service is. Then we went back to a castmate’s room and yapped about who are decent musicians and who are crap and who are incredible, which is a good way to start an arguement.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Dirty Eggs and Rice, Tan Standing
We got our shows up and then had our standard Secoond Ciity Celebration dinner at Teppenyaki. This is the Japanese-ish restaurant where they cut things up in front of you and throw things around like Benihana. I have now eaten at 3 different versions of these on the ships. The first one was insane and 2 cast members got double entrees (so a steak, a lobster, scallops, and shrimp). The second one was on the dull side, featuring a chef who spelled out “NCL” in oil before cooking the vegetable appetizer, which made me feel like he was brainwashed. This last one was pornographic. Maybe because we were all one big group? And he knew it? He did some slight of hand with one egg and said “where’s the egg! Where’s the egg!” and we were supposed to discover it in front of his crotch.
He had an oblong mound of rice for 8 people. He said “this is Mt. Fugi!” because they relate everything to Japan. He made a delicious combination of garlic and garlic butter and soy sauce (“coca-cola!”) and then poured it about midway from the center of the rice mound, in a line. He then, after a series of jokes, split the rice down this line and opened it up—I don’t remember any jokes about this. Then he made a bunch of jokes and made the egg/omelette thing you need for fried rice. Then he made this into a cylinder of egg and scallions and said “look at this!” or something and put two empty eggshells on either side of the egg cylinder. He then scooted the egg slowly into the split rice mound. I’m sure there were jokes but I was very, very amazed and didn’t hear any of them. He then said “hahaha” or something and diced that omelette genital with no mercy and then slaughtered the rice genital and we were all amazed and had to talk about it every 10 minutes or so after the meal.
His other high points were asking me if I liked brown bananas and referring to his brown banana and turning a 4” strip of steak into an inch worm and had it walk onto the plate of a cast mate. The worm was my favorite, especially when he had it be indecisive and look from plate to plate.
Then we saw a huge production show which features people with huge Vegas smiles from cultures that dictate it is wrong to have a huge smile. Like Belarus and Ukraine and Italy. My favorite story so far is about one of the Italians—this human being looks like a drawing of the ideal man or like he should be standing wet in crashing waves and selling perfume or Versace cologne. He tans standing up and as the sun moves, he moves. This is obviously fascinating. Off stage, he is frowning and fighting. On stage: the smiiiiiiiile.
He had an oblong mound of rice for 8 people. He said “this is Mt. Fugi!” because they relate everything to Japan. He made a delicious combination of garlic and garlic butter and soy sauce (“coca-cola!”) and then poured it about midway from the center of the rice mound, in a line. He then, after a series of jokes, split the rice down this line and opened it up—I don’t remember any jokes about this. Then he made a bunch of jokes and made the egg/omelette thing you need for fried rice. Then he made this into a cylinder of egg and scallions and said “look at this!” or something and put two empty eggshells on either side of the egg cylinder. He then scooted the egg slowly into the split rice mound. I’m sure there were jokes but I was very, very amazed and didn’t hear any of them. He then said “hahaha” or something and diced that omelette genital with no mercy and then slaughtered the rice genital and we were all amazed and had to talk about it every 10 minutes or so after the meal.
His other high points were asking me if I liked brown bananas and referring to his brown banana and turning a 4” strip of steak into an inch worm and had it walk onto the plate of a cast mate. The worm was my favorite, especially when he had it be indecisive and look from plate to plate.
Then we saw a huge production show which features people with huge Vegas smiles from cultures that dictate it is wrong to have a huge smile. Like Belarus and Ukraine and Italy. My favorite story so far is about one of the Italians—this human being looks like a drawing of the ideal man or like he should be standing wet in crashing waves and selling perfume or Versace cologne. He tans standing up and as the sun moves, he moves. This is obviously fascinating. Off stage, he is frowning and fighting. On stage: the smiiiiiiiile.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Here I Go, Again
I am back on board a new ship. This is the Jewel, and it is crazy. It is new! It is well decorated! Things are understated! Things are snazzy! And oh Lord, oh happy day, oh all is changed and we are born anew:
I have a porthole.
I HAVE A PORTHOLE! THE PORTHOLE! THERE IS A PORTHOLE AND HOPE SURVIVES AND LOVE IS REAL!
We are in officer cabins. We have two officer cabins and two passenger cabins (PAX!). Obviously, the people who designed the crew cabins knew the experience of life as a crew member, which is totally different from a passenger. Mainly:
SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCE! DELICIOUS SILENCE! O LORD SILENCE!!!
My PORTHOLE means I am awoken by SUNSHINE and you can hear the waves gently hit the boat and see a reflection of light dancing on your ceiling. But muted, calm, SILENT. I know I would go crazy if I were not allowed to leave this room. I know this with my brain. I do not know this with my SOUUUUL.
Pax hallways stretch the length of the ship and go in a ring. Every third on each side is manned by two room stewards that work constantly in the morning and at night. They each have a room cleaning cart. This is perfect for the vacationing people because it is a complaining-ice-breaker that might end up in a “hahaha, let’s get drinks.” For people who work and live here, it results in “this is where I will die. Here. I will die here. Everything is pointless.” Which is a lie. Does this happen in crew hallways? Where my hallway is a self contained “corridor” of about 9 rooms off of a big hallway? In a crew area? Where everyone is working and running around? NOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
This ship is radically different than the other ships because it is gorgeous. It was built in 2005. It is gorgeous. The cheese element is still there (“amazing” was used at least 40 times in the opening show, “ladies and gentlemen” probably 30) but everything is new and well designed and clean and in 2005 Starbucks-ie style, so it feels gorgeous and like they know exactly what I want to see, which maybe means it is trendy.
In an interesting note, there was apparently a terrorist attack at sea somewhere hahaha. So now we have a bunch of signs in the crew areas with a number to call if we see any terrorist activity hahaha. So hopefully that will never ever ever be useful.
I have a porthole.
I HAVE A PORTHOLE! THE PORTHOLE! THERE IS A PORTHOLE AND HOPE SURVIVES AND LOVE IS REAL!
We are in officer cabins. We have two officer cabins and two passenger cabins (PAX!). Obviously, the people who designed the crew cabins knew the experience of life as a crew member, which is totally different from a passenger. Mainly:
SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCE! DELICIOUS SILENCE! O LORD SILENCE!!!
My PORTHOLE means I am awoken by SUNSHINE and you can hear the waves gently hit the boat and see a reflection of light dancing on your ceiling. But muted, calm, SILENT. I know I would go crazy if I were not allowed to leave this room. I know this with my brain. I do not know this with my SOUUUUL.
Pax hallways stretch the length of the ship and go in a ring. Every third on each side is manned by two room stewards that work constantly in the morning and at night. They each have a room cleaning cart. This is perfect for the vacationing people because it is a complaining-ice-breaker that might end up in a “hahaha, let’s get drinks.” For people who work and live here, it results in “this is where I will die. Here. I will die here. Everything is pointless.” Which is a lie. Does this happen in crew hallways? Where my hallway is a self contained “corridor” of about 9 rooms off of a big hallway? In a crew area? Where everyone is working and running around? NOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
This ship is radically different than the other ships because it is gorgeous. It was built in 2005. It is gorgeous. The cheese element is still there (“amazing” was used at least 40 times in the opening show, “ladies and gentlemen” probably 30) but everything is new and well designed and clean and in 2005 Starbucks-ie style, so it feels gorgeous and like they know exactly what I want to see, which maybe means it is trendy.
In an interesting note, there was apparently a terrorist attack at sea somewhere hahaha. So now we have a bunch of signs in the crew areas with a number to call if we see any terrorist activity hahaha. So hopefully that will never ever ever be useful.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Another Break, Getting Dark Out
I am about to go on another tour of duty. In the off time, I have done the following things with great joy, and that is not ironic at all:
Cleaned a friend's apartment
Done dishes
Made food
Taken out trash
Driven and navigated
O Lord, O Lord in Heaven, the sweet joy of not being helpless, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord.
I also heard a little kid whine on the plane during sunset: "I don't WAAANT it to get dark out" which made me laugh out loud.
The ship doctors informed me I had an eye infection which a Pennsylvania doctor informed me was actually allergies. When I talked about going on the boat again, I burst into tears outside of a dressing room. This is payback for noticing an Asian lady full on crying talking to her friend's in Filene's in San Francisco with Serpe. She kept moving and we kept finding her. Transitions are emotional! Obvious is obvious! I don't WAAAAAANT it to be annoying! And watch the boat feel like it is where I now belong. O boat.
Highlights of vacation include driving with Serpe from LA to San Fran, meeting Marion's baby (poor conversationalist ZING!), Eve's New Orleans, Heather & Josh's Hospitality Ultimahht, and seeing my parents.
This is a shout out to Graci, the other highlight. We had a fun chat and it gets so good to see people who are not your castmates that it is difficult not to weep with joy, which a normal person would not, could not understand.
Otherwise, in LA, plans got changed a bunch with cronies, which is not a big deal, but add the desperation of seeing people with limited time, and I will happily write you a 50 page treatsie about why LA is an abomination of a disaster.
Also, if you would like a newfound appreciation for American/North American males, go on a cruise ship!!! Work there!!! Where there aren't any hahaha!!! Then come back!!! You will fall in love every 4 seconds!!! Based on polarfleece!!! Except for the North American males who sleep face down with no shoes next to a bowl of food in front of a Rite Aid smack in the middle of the sidewalk, which LA furnished me. I don't WAAAAANT them to be homeless!
For those of you who are not actors, I give you this, a typical email that I get from a casting placement place:
---
Hey Guys! So we have had [Person Name] from [Casting/Office] in alot over the
years and he has been great to us!! But the new gal over at this GREAT TV
office is [New Person]. We have only had her in one other time and
everyone loved her. She is fun, smart and knows her stuff!! She looks
forward to finding talent at workshops and [Casting/Office]is known for
rarely using breakdowns for costar and guest star roles. They trust
people like [Person] to find fantastic talent like you!! They always have
pilots and they always have fun shows with big guest casts!!!
11/20/2008 Thursday 07:30 PM [New Person]w/[Casting/Office] $35
---
I don't WAAAAANT them to be fake!!!
Cleaned a friend's apartment
Done dishes
Made food
Taken out trash
Driven and navigated
O Lord, O Lord in Heaven, the sweet joy of not being helpless, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord.
I also heard a little kid whine on the plane during sunset: "I don't WAAANT it to get dark out" which made me laugh out loud.
The ship doctors informed me I had an eye infection which a Pennsylvania doctor informed me was actually allergies. When I talked about going on the boat again, I burst into tears outside of a dressing room. This is payback for noticing an Asian lady full on crying talking to her friend's in Filene's in San Francisco with Serpe. She kept moving and we kept finding her. Transitions are emotional! Obvious is obvious! I don't WAAAAAANT it to be annoying! And watch the boat feel like it is where I now belong. O boat.
Highlights of vacation include driving with Serpe from LA to San Fran, meeting Marion's baby (poor conversationalist ZING!), Eve's New Orleans, Heather & Josh's Hospitality Ultimahht, and seeing my parents.
This is a shout out to Graci, the other highlight. We had a fun chat and it gets so good to see people who are not your castmates that it is difficult not to weep with joy, which a normal person would not, could not understand.
Otherwise, in LA, plans got changed a bunch with cronies, which is not a big deal, but add the desperation of seeing people with limited time, and I will happily write you a 50 page treatsie about why LA is an abomination of a disaster.
Also, if you would like a newfound appreciation for American/North American males, go on a cruise ship!!! Work there!!! Where there aren't any hahaha!!! Then come back!!! You will fall in love every 4 seconds!!! Based on polarfleece!!! Except for the North American males who sleep face down with no shoes next to a bowl of food in front of a Rite Aid smack in the middle of the sidewalk, which LA furnished me. I don't WAAAAANT them to be homeless!
For those of you who are not actors, I give you this, a typical email that I get from a casting placement place:
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Hey Guys! So we have had [Person Name] from [Casting/Office] in alot over the
years and he has been great to us!! But the new gal over at this GREAT TV
office is [New Person]. We have only had her in one other time and
everyone loved her. She is fun, smart and knows her stuff!! She looks
forward to finding talent at workshops and [Casting/Office]is known for
rarely using breakdowns for costar and guest star roles. They trust
people like [Person] to find fantastic talent like you!! They always have
pilots and they always have fun shows with big guest casts!!!
11/20/2008 Thursday 07:30 PM [New Person]w/[Casting/Office] $35
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I don't WAAAAANT them to be fake!!!
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