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I went on a cruise with the fam and it was alright.

The best part was probably the buffets of food that seemed to be open constantly but always had the correct meal in accordance with the hour of the day which I rarely was informed of… it wasn’t great food obviously, they had to pick quantity due to the three and a half grand people on board. (Can I do that? Is ‘grand’ a synonym for ‘thousand’? Must be.) All of the swimming and dancing helped me in the fat department.

There was a guy who went on the loud speaker every 10 minutes and always began by reminding us that “Hey! This is your cruise director Butch!” incase we had forgotten. He told us some dumb stuff about ‘goings-on’ around the huge-ass ship. Did we want to go to the casino and lighten our load? Or were we hungry (impossible) and did we want to go to the chocolate buffet? But, either way, we couldn’t miss the show tonight at the Venetian Palace, where crappy performers would strut around and then change their costume in order to strut around some more. The men liked it, big surprise there.

What I was really scared of the whole time was being bombed. I mean, yea, there’s always sinking, but they had some decent equipment in case we started going down. We were assigned ‘muster’ stations and I kept telling everyone I only wanted ketchup, but the muster station had our lifeboats, and those life boats had their own life boats, and one more time and that’s enough. But as I was saying… I was anticipating the sound of a whistle getting louder and louder rather than water coming under the door. And the reason for this, which you may or may not be wondering, is that these cruises are the epitome of what the terrorists hate about the good ole USA. A butt load of fat, lazy (mostly) Americans practicing clogging their bowels. I felt like we were sitting ducks who also looked like fish inside a barrel that could then be easily shot at…

We went to four beautiabulousazing beaches.  For the most part, a beach is a beach.  Even though that last statement can’t be dubbed ‘true’, I believe that there is some truth to it. We spent a whoooole lot of time sailing (or whatever the verb is) just so we could lay on a disney-world-like, spotless beach.  I dunno…seems like a lot of knots to travel to not see a lot. Oh yea I can rhyme wherever, whenever.

Before we left, I had to embarrass myself at least once, so after exiting the elevator I told my sister that the dude who had ridden down those two flights with us was cute, to which she replied ‘yea, I hope he’s behind us’ and because we haven’t been going to mass, there he was two steps in our wake. I guess you had to be there but we ran off scream-laughing and forgot about it 10 minutes later.

Isn’t it weird when you look forward to something for a long time and then BAM it’s over. Why does that happen, huh? I guess I know. It’s cuz of time, time moving. That’s what it is. I think. Well it’s sad. Now all I have to remember that week of my life are the quickly fading tan lines that I occasionally see when I decide my sweatshirt is no longer containing my stench.  Now I feel like writing a song… time, you are so cruel, life is like a duel, I feel like a fool… and curtain.

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