Cruise Ship Lollipop

So now that it’s been a healthy 10 days since I returned from my cruise, and now that my tan has faded from a “goldenly awesomely brown” to “the color of poop when you have one of those weird ones that’s kind of pale instead of normal”, I feel it’s time for a little cruise re-cap, eh?

(My sister likes to claim I have a fecal fixation disorder, but she’s the one that wrote on the walls of my nursery in poo after she broke into my diaper bin when she was two, and she’s the one who called me into the bathroom when I was around 3 to check out her poop and then picked it up.)

(Sorry sister, but you’ve told the story about me drawing the picture of the horse with the poop coming out of its butt for the last time, it’s payback!)

(And don’t you dare deny picking up your poop, I vividly remember this, it’s actually one of my earliest childhood memories, sadly.)

So the cruise! Great times were had by all, there was, believe it or not, utterly no drama. 8 girls trapped on a boat together for 7 days and no one had it out! There may have been a bit of bickering now and then, but not anything major. No one went flying off the end of the ship into the shark-infested waters below. Truly an October miracle.

The best day was probably in the Bahamas, where we rented a private cabana with its own stretch of beach, and a waiter running up and down the beach every half hour bringing us new buckets of beer. We sat in the water all day, which was as warm as bathwater, and got totally tanked, if a bit pruny.

Also fun from that day was my very special sunburn. It wasn’t too intense, it was just oddly patterned. I love that spray on sunscreen, but then it drips down your back and chest, and if you’re not vigilant (or sober) enough to rub it in well, you end up with funky white “drip marks” all down yourself. It’s almost awesome, like those people who put stickers on their skin to make little white tattoos when they tan. (My sister also once did this, with a playboy bunny sticker. Ha!) (I’m just throwing her under the bus today, eh?)

Other highlights:

• Almost getting into a fistfight with a dude who was being a lunatic at my friend. He felt she did not spend enough time talking to him after buying her a drink. Guys, seriously: if you buy us a drink, you don’t get to expect ANYTHING out of it. Yes, there’s the expectation of a little friendly chat to size each other up, see if anything’s there, but if a girl decides she’s not into you after a couple minutes, you can’t expect her to sit there and listen to you talk about your iguana farm. Sorry. So yeah, he starts ranting and raving about how she’s “just like every other bitch” or some shit, and oh yeah Fu was NOT having that bullcrap. So I gots up in his bidness, and he called me a “rude bitch,” it was awesome.

• Winning a karaoke contest , the reward of which was maybe not even a reward at all. If I said the words “dressing up like Britney and performing a song and routine with a group of backup dancers in front of the whole boat and accompanied by the ship’s orchestra, WITHOUT a monitor with all the words on it,” would that be something you’d be interested in? And no, I will not be posting the photos. Just picture Britney, then picture Britney if she ATE one of her backup dancers and was twice her normal size.

• Mojitos at nine in the morning. WOOOT!

• Posing with parrots and not getting pooped on (there I go with poop again!).

• Suspicious shots at Senor Frogs in San Juan. They were cheap, and tasted, really, like water. I think the bartender actually just put water in two shot glasses and handed them over. Is this possible?

So, yeah. Good times. No hookups, no interest in hookups, just in sun and drinks and sun and fun. Drinks! I didn’t even drink that much! I was wildly toasted only twice the whole week, and here I expected it to be a near-constant alcoholism-fest. Yet I still managed to spend like 600 dollars. Is this possible? Sheesh.

Other updates:

I’ve got something brewing I can’t really talk about yet, will hopefully have updates soon though. (Wow, quite an illuminating update.)

Mr. Canada is still happening (I know, right? It’s been three MONTHS), but there are no updates. I have a feeling I might just be ending up with a pen pal, to be honest. A pen pal who writes dirty emails. Heh.

But who knows. He says he’s still interested in visiting me, and he’s pretty adamant about how much he likes me...He’s allegedly going to let me know “by the end of this week” what weekend works best for him. So naturally I will update on that, but I’m not holding my breath. If there’s no resolution by then, I think I’m going to have to downgrade him to “Mr. Canadian Friend Who Occasionally Writes Dirty Emails.”

Ummmm, what else?

It’s hot as BALLS out right now, and I don’t like it.

I went to a farm this weekend with my whole family to watch a medieval device fling a pumpkin 2,000 feet. I’m not even joking. I was the only adult there, outside of my other family members, not toting a small shrieking child of some kind or holding hands with some husband-type figure. It was highly depressing, yet also a relief. I’m starting to realize I might not want to procreate. Kids annoy the everloving shit out of me.

Oh yeah, and maybe you’ve heard of this thing called the Red Sox GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!?!?!?

HOLY SHIT!

So yeah. Um, and that’s about that.

This entry was not funny or even all that interesting. What can I say, I live to disappoint!