Craig is sleeping in the bunk bed over me, with the heads overlapping. At some point I woke up to notice his pillow was overhanging the edge by an inch or so. I woke up again a while later, when it was about 6 inches out, then dozed off again. This went on until I was woken by the pillow itself falling on me. I somehow fell back asleep again, only to be awoken a few minutes later by Craig accusing me of stealing his damn pillow, and waking up everyone else. Can I have some Diprivan bought to my cabin?
I have no idea where they get ideas to decorate these ships. On this one the hallways are lined with paintings of people in the early 1920's era, looking happy while golfing, listening to jazz, and sipping gin & tonic on the deck of a steamship. One showed 2 guys looking through a travel brochure for "Beautiful New Jersey- Sunshine, Sand, and Scenery". There is also a great picture of 2 women talking, one with short, bright purple hair, and the other wearing a dress made to look like leaves are covering her breasts. It looked like Mrs. Joker talking to Poison Ivy in a Batman comic.
One elevator painting shows a rather severe looking-woman with a body pose and facial expression that suggest she's either flexing all her muscles at once or desperately trying to become unconstipated. Or both.
If I only have one complaint it’s that this ship doesn’t have a sightseeing deck, like the one we went on in 2003 did:
(Fortunately for me, Mrs. Grumpy doesn’t read my blog).
I love the phone in my room. It has autodial buttons labeled "Guest services", "Room Service", "Housekeeping", and "Spa". If you press "Guest Services" You get this message: "Thank you for calling guest services. To reach room service, please hang up and press the ‘room service’ button. To reach housekeeping, please hang up and press the ‘housekeeping’ button. To reach the spa, please hang up and press the ‘spa’ button.” Isn’t that helpful?
The toilets on these ships are remarkable works of technology. Mrs. Grumpy calls them the "Suckmaster 2000" (her phrase, not a sci-fi porn flick). When you press the button they make a loud whooshing noise and everything just vanishes. You actually feel a draft of air being pulled into the john from under the door. You have to be sure that none of your limbs are anywhere near the bowl when you flush, or the only thing the crew will find is your sneakers.
The scuba diver in me thinks about what an awesome dive this ship would be if it sank. Hopefully not on this trip, though.
I was laying out by the main pool, reading a book and watching the kids swim. And suddenly the overhead Jumbotron TV begins blasting E! and the latest on Jon & Kate! Can't I get away from worthless people of this sort here? Why does this shit have to follow us everywhere? I had no idea who these two losers even were until I heard my office girls talking about them. Why can't I relax in peace on my vacation by the ship’s pool with my Diet Coke, NOT have to listen to sordid stories from the famous and pointless?
This afternoon was the poolside "Hairy Chest" competition. I suggested Mrs. Grumpy enter it, and will now be finishing the cruise with a black eye (in addition to my broken foot). She later submitted my name as a candidate, but suggested they have a Hairy Ass contest that I could win.
After the pool Mrs. Grumpy, my black eye, and I went to a lounge. We ordered Diet Cokes and listened to a girl with a thick Indonesian accent belting out ABBA. It was awesome. "See dat gril, watch dat seen, she be dat dancing keen". I loved it.
Wandering through the ship I ended up in one of the overpriced stores, glancing at such useless baubles as Cruiseship Lines stuffed animals, shirts, and shot glasses. They have a small display of overpriced Tylenol, Tums, and other over-the-counter drugs.
It occurred to me that they could be making a FORTUNE if they also sold condoms and Plan B. In fact, this is the perfect environement for both given the large amounts of circulating singles, hormones, and alcohol.
At dinner a dining room supervisor came over to ask us how we were doing. Seeing our walkie-talkies she said. "oh you have walkie-talkies? Do you use them to talk to each other on the ship?"
Mrs. Grumpy smiled, nodded, and kicked my good leg under the table to keep me from being a smart-ass and earning another black eye. I don’t want to be mistaken for a raccoon. That could result in me becoming an entreé in the sushi bar.