Once back in our room after GPS Love Fest, the feeling was somber. The room was clean and for the first time in 4 days you could see the 4 inches of counter space we had. For the last time, we all crawled into our tiny sleeping nooks and fell asleep to NKTV. One of the perks of the cruise which is New Kids TV, 24/7. I don't think we ever changed the channel. We knew the order of the video clips and were able to recite them by now. But as some asshole once said, all good things must come to an end. On a side note, I wish I knew who that douche was because, wow, talk about a party pooper. We slept, or napped for two hours, only to wake and be thrown back into our lives.
The cabin was silent due to either sadness or lack of sleep but no one was talking. It was over. The trip was over and the lingering effects go on for month. As we were de-boarding the ship, we ran into the Jareds to thank them for all they did. Putting this cruise together is no easy fete (in case I didn't mention it before, noses of a BH are strong and able to pick up any scent from miles away-- the FBI has nothing on us). So we sort of accidentally ended up in line for the elevator with the Jared's giving glowing reviews to the cruise and hoping, just hoping, word would travel back to Danny, Donnie, Jordan, Joe and Jon.
Once through security and customs, Sporty and I said our goodbyes to Baby. We jumped in a shuttle van and headed to another airport. The van was tight with other cruisers who bragged about their experiences.... fish tales I call them. Trying to to make other jealous. I popped in my ear buds, toned them out and listened to some old school hip hop while reminiscing about 90's night.
At the airport, we met DJ Cheapshot, who, by far is the sweetest man to walk to earth. Doll. Complete doll. Sporty and I were sleep deprived and this is when we learned everything is funnier when you are bleary.... Case in point: Sporty and I were sitting at one of those charging stations at the airport. The outlets were all filled. By now, Sporty and I had sucked the battery dry on our phone ins the two hours that we had Internet access since we were off the boat. We were charging iPods and IPhone with dozens of other people. Sporty, who was yes, still suffering from sunstroke, had her head down over her folded arms. I thought shew as asleep until some one's phone rang..... It went something like this:
Dude on Phone: (in the loudest voice possible says) "This is Doug"
(and without skipping a beat) Sporty looks at me: "Is it black Doug?"
Was it funny? Probably not but to this day, it think it may be the best line ever since I described Donnie's scent as what I would imagine God would smell like. After hours of sitting in the airport, it was finally time to board the plane which mean, simple, SLEEP. Thank you Jesus (in my Melissa Gorga voice). We found our seats, grabbed the nearest New Kid dad and prepared for our journey home. although I was so tired I had tears streaming down my face, I still drugged up on my xanax and braced myself for the flight home.
I mentally clicked my heels together three times and the next thing I new, the plane had landed. It was over. My journey, my oaf, my solitude..... was over. Within moments of hitting the tarmac, I became a wife, a mother, a daughter and an employee all over again. Sadness erupted from within until I realized one, truly important notion--- I get to do this shit all over again so....
DANNY, DONNIE, JORDAN, JOE AND JON---- ANNOUNCE THE FUCKING CRUISE ALREADY AND GET THIS PARTY STARTED!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Ever Been to the Equator? I Have
The next morning we woke up on the sun. Not sure how we got there. Others on the boat referred to it "Key West, Florida." They were clearly mistaken, because there is no doubt, this was the sun. Holy fucking Christ was it hot. This was to be the last stop on our cruise journey and there was a tinge of melancholy in the air for the three of us. There were no shows for us to see that night.... The only thing I truly had to look forward to was Donnie's poker tournament and the New Kids Town Hall Meeting--- which I promise to get to soon. Fair warning though- I'll gt on my soap box.
In keeping with my motto "And this is why you don't get off the boat," this is why you don't get off the boat. Key West was.... aside from hot, TERRIBLE. There was such a build up to the exciting Key West but I was really unimpressed. Maybe if it wasn't 875 degrees, I would have enjoyed sitting out and having lunch and a cocktail but no. Anytime you see an outside bar with "misters"on to keep people cool, you know to pass. The evening's theme was GPS Love Fest which meant you had to dress up in a way that represented the country, state, culture, etc of where you were from. Baby being a huge fan of the local football team, planned to deck out in her gear and Sporty was going to go all Italia. I brought a t-shirt to wear of the local basketball team but I wasn't too excited about my pick. I was thinking showing some Italian pride was the way to go.
Key West is a typical tourist town with the streets aligned with bars, restaurants and tacky T-Shirt souvenir shops. Surely I could find a t-shirt saying Italian Princess, or something related. We journeyed into tacky shop, after tacky shop and I wasn't seeing anything. I did see many offensive Irish T-Shirts but surprisingly, nothing Italian. In one of our last stops, I finally asked the savant working the floor if they had any t-shirts about being Italian or was it possible to have one made. Her response, "Ooh Italian? No, we don't have anything like that here. But we do have Irish." Ok, so the Keys hates the Italians. Got it. Moving on.... There was a t-shirt with a picture of a fat guy on it that said, "I beat Anorexia" but Baby and I were the only ones who saw the humor in it. Besides, I clearly HAVE NOT beat it. Nonetheless, I thought that shit was funny.
By now I was all done, which as we know is beyond all set. We decided that it was time to get back on the boat and have a frozen cocktail to cool off. Sporty, still suffering from heat stroke, took a nap but Baby and I didn't walk, but ran to the bar. We sat there and jibber-jabbed until the Mack Daddy walked in and sat down. Here is where the shit gets good. Now, I'm not sure if these guys at the bar were New Kids security or extra security hired by the tour group, but small group of big, muscular, decent looking guys were at the bar clearly trying to nurse their hangovers by doing Jager shots. They were pretty low key but then, this 110 pound, 6 foot tall, blonde Mack Daddy came and sat down at the bar. He. Was. Awesome. In the fist 5 minutes he must have said he personally knew Donnie Wahlberg at least 8 times. This was clearly his maneuver to get the ladies.
I assume the scenario plays out something like this in his head (we will call him MD for short):
FC (female cruiser): So, are you a New Kids fan? Is that why you are on the cruise?
MD: Well, yeah, sort of.... I'm a personal friend of Donnie Wahlberg's (um allegedly).
FC: OMG! I just have to sleep with you.
If this exchange took place between myself or another spice girl.
Posh: So why are you on the cruise? are you a fan?
MD: Well, yeah, sort of... I'm a personal friend of Donnie Wahlberg's (um, allegedly)
Posh: Oh, then please can I fuck you. I'm sure having sex with you would totally get me closer to Donnie and I'm sure he would love your sloppy seconds, you douche.
He was a tool. Eventually he figured out how to fit in the way hotter, way cooler guys and from a distance, Baby and I heard,"Tonight's the last night and I need to get it in." I paraphrase of course but you get the idea of what this douche was trying to do. Baby and I rolled our eyes, paid the bill and went back to the room for my afternoon siesta. Undoubtedly, the sun soaked up all energy so sporty and I slept for hours until the official New Kids on the Block Town Hall Meeting. This is VERY important for BH's because it gives us a chance to ask those burning questions such as when is the next album, do you have a professional masseuse and would you mind sharing with us the secret locations where you like to spend your free time.
We moved slightly off the equator by now but I was still sweating like a whore in church. Baby and I secured three spots in the shade with a slight view of the stage. Meanwhile, I thought, these 5 assholes cannot possibly be sitting in this blazing hot sun...... but they came out, and they did. As the meeting droned on, the three of us kept cool in the shade, near an a/c vent behind a bar. The bar is a very common place to find us trying to scrounge up water so we won't die. The questions posed to the guys were taken via twitter from the fans prior to the cruise. In all of his sagaciousness, Donnie decided to field questions from the audience. This. Was. Not. A. Good. Idea.
I never saw her, but I did hear her voice bellow throughout the PA system with the question... *ahem* "Why is it all the t-shirts in the gift shop are made only to fit the skinny bitches?"
.....I'll let that marinate for a moment but please keep in mind, the shirts went up to 3XL.
(insert jeopardy theme song here)
Ok, ready? Here is comes. WHAT THE FLYING FUCK? Now, as one of these skinny bitches (and by skinny bitch she clearly means anyone who does NOT fit in a 3XL) I take exception to this statement. I am a small.... actually an extra small.... so clearly she must hope that I die. But my point is this: if I said fat bitch to ANY OF THE HUNDREDS of women on the boat, I would have been knocked the fuck out. So, here's the lay of the land: skinny bitch is just as derogatory and insulting as fat bitch. My advice: Don't go to the buffet that 15th time and maybe you too can fit in the 3XL.
Sadly, the night only got worse from there. Although I was able to attend the poker tournament and watch Donnie, there was less excitement since World of Useless was... um, emceeing? At least I think that's what he was doing. It didn't last long and seeing as how this was the last night on the ship, we ran to the lido deck, foam fingers in hand. Sporty and I were determined, even after my near death experience to try and have these fingers signed again. As usual, Donnie was the first to move through the crowd and I ran as fast as my Nikes let me to get near him but, I as the scrappy running back, I fervently try to avoid being tackled by 800 linebackers, aka, Donnie Wahlberg fans. Just like in slo-mo instant replay, I saw the potential for danger and out loud, in typical only child fashion, said "Fuck this muthafucking shit." ....and went back to dancing.
Sporty, who is much scrappier than I, made an attempt to have her foam finger signed by Joey. On the inside, I chuckled to myself, "Ha,ha, ha. Ok.... Poor Sporty.... She just doesn't get it." I kept turning behind me to watch her attempt to reach the platform stage where he was standing in a Celtics jersey and kilt when all of a sudden.... something wonderful happened. Angels appeared and there was bright lights with music...... and just like that Joe fans, were---- HELPING other Joe fans. They passed pictures and room keys and shirts and hats and yes, even that foam finger. There was no pushing. There was no shoving. Sporty emerged unscathed. I was, well, I was in awe. And at the same time happy for my friend. Then something went terribly, terribly wrong.
DRUNK GIRLS EMERGED
First, Baby, the sweetest of the group was approached by the drunk southern belles and was asked to borrow her foam finger for their picture. Being normal and sweet, she agreed. When I tapped her on the shoulder, I said, "what was that all about?" and after she explained what just happened I looked at her, puzzled and said, "What the fuck did you do that for? Tell her to get her own fucking finger." She laughed. I laughed. And again we went back to dancing but the sharks were still swimming in the water as baby was tapped on the shoulder yet again. I'm funking up my groove and gettin' down until I notice Sporty being called over. This was it. The moment Baby and I waited for since the last cruise. We were about to have our asses airlifted off the boat before it docked because Sporty reached down some one's throat and ripped out their lung (on a side note, although I have never seen her do it, I can vouch for the fact that she is COMPLETELY capable of such violence).
I tip toe over to the circle and I hear this brave stupid belle ask Sporty, "Can I take a picture with your foam finger?" Oh dear mother of God, please tell me she didn't just ask that........ By now, Baby and I are not breathing for fear of what was about to transpire. Sporty, politely, at first said, "No, I'm sorry. This is signed." Now, girls steal one an other's signed shit all the time so I didn't blame her. I didn't even want Baby sharing hers and it was unsigned. The brainless belle couldn't, just couldn't let it lay.... As she was walking back to her friends, mumbling, all I heard was Sporty yell, "Excuse me, is there a problem?" I plead the Fifth on what transpired.
There is no better way to end this blog entry than with a discussion of the Wahlberg flu. Hands down, this may be my most favorite and most jealous moment of the cruise. As I've previously mentioned, contrary to last cruise, Donnie's lips touched all 2700 women on the boat this year. As he walked by me in the crowd, he (sadly) recognized my face and gave me a big smooch. Then he kissed Sporty and Baby yelled in a ooh-how-cute! tone, "You got a kiss too." As my Donnie leaned in, to make Baby's life worth living, she stuck out her cheek and later said, "I didn't want those lips anywhere near me....." and at that, pizza slices in hand, we called it a night.
In keeping with my motto "And this is why you don't get off the boat," this is why you don't get off the boat. Key West was.... aside from hot, TERRIBLE. There was such a build up to the exciting Key West but I was really unimpressed. Maybe if it wasn't 875 degrees, I would have enjoyed sitting out and having lunch and a cocktail but no. Anytime you see an outside bar with "misters"on to keep people cool, you know to pass. The evening's theme was GPS Love Fest which meant you had to dress up in a way that represented the country, state, culture, etc of where you were from. Baby being a huge fan of the local football team, planned to deck out in her gear and Sporty was going to go all Italia. I brought a t-shirt to wear of the local basketball team but I wasn't too excited about my pick. I was thinking showing some Italian pride was the way to go.
Key West is a typical tourist town with the streets aligned with bars, restaurants and tacky T-Shirt souvenir shops. Surely I could find a t-shirt saying Italian Princess, or something related. We journeyed into tacky shop, after tacky shop and I wasn't seeing anything. I did see many offensive Irish T-Shirts but surprisingly, nothing Italian. In one of our last stops, I finally asked the savant working the floor if they had any t-shirts about being Italian or was it possible to have one made. Her response, "Ooh Italian? No, we don't have anything like that here. But we do have Irish." Ok, so the Keys hates the Italians. Got it. Moving on.... There was a t-shirt with a picture of a fat guy on it that said, "I beat Anorexia" but Baby and I were the only ones who saw the humor in it. Besides, I clearly HAVE NOT beat it. Nonetheless, I thought that shit was funny.
By now I was all done, which as we know is beyond all set. We decided that it was time to get back on the boat and have a frozen cocktail to cool off. Sporty, still suffering from heat stroke, took a nap but Baby and I didn't walk, but ran to the bar. We sat there and jibber-jabbed until the Mack Daddy walked in and sat down. Here is where the shit gets good. Now, I'm not sure if these guys at the bar were New Kids security or extra security hired by the tour group, but small group of big, muscular, decent looking guys were at the bar clearly trying to nurse their hangovers by doing Jager shots. They were pretty low key but then, this 110 pound, 6 foot tall, blonde Mack Daddy came and sat down at the bar. He. Was. Awesome. In the fist 5 minutes he must have said he personally knew Donnie Wahlberg at least 8 times. This was clearly his maneuver to get the ladies.
I assume the scenario plays out something like this in his head (we will call him MD for short):
FC (female cruiser): So, are you a New Kids fan? Is that why you are on the cruise?
MD: Well, yeah, sort of.... I'm a personal friend of Donnie Wahlberg's (um allegedly).
FC: OMG! I just have to sleep with you.
If this exchange took place between myself or another spice girl.
Posh: So why are you on the cruise? are you a fan?
MD: Well, yeah, sort of... I'm a personal friend of Donnie Wahlberg's (um, allegedly)
Posh: Oh, then please can I fuck you. I'm sure having sex with you would totally get me closer to Donnie and I'm sure he would love your sloppy seconds, you douche.
He was a tool. Eventually he figured out how to fit in the way hotter, way cooler guys and from a distance, Baby and I heard,"Tonight's the last night and I need to get it in." I paraphrase of course but you get the idea of what this douche was trying to do. Baby and I rolled our eyes, paid the bill and went back to the room for my afternoon siesta. Undoubtedly, the sun soaked up all energy so sporty and I slept for hours until the official New Kids on the Block Town Hall Meeting. This is VERY important for BH's because it gives us a chance to ask those burning questions such as when is the next album, do you have a professional masseuse and would you mind sharing with us the secret locations where you like to spend your free time.
We moved slightly off the equator by now but I was still sweating like a whore in church. Baby and I secured three spots in the shade with a slight view of the stage. Meanwhile, I thought, these 5 assholes cannot possibly be sitting in this blazing hot sun...... but they came out, and they did. As the meeting droned on, the three of us kept cool in the shade, near an a/c vent behind a bar. The bar is a very common place to find us trying to scrounge up water so we won't die. The questions posed to the guys were taken via twitter from the fans prior to the cruise. In all of his sagaciousness, Donnie decided to field questions from the audience. This. Was. Not. A. Good. Idea.
I never saw her, but I did hear her voice bellow throughout the PA system with the question... *ahem* "Why is it all the t-shirts in the gift shop are made only to fit the skinny bitches?"
.....I'll let that marinate for a moment but please keep in mind, the shirts went up to 3XL.
(insert jeopardy theme song here)
Ok, ready? Here is comes. WHAT THE FLYING FUCK? Now, as one of these skinny bitches (and by skinny bitch she clearly means anyone who does NOT fit in a 3XL) I take exception to this statement. I am a small.... actually an extra small.... so clearly she must hope that I die. But my point is this: if I said fat bitch to ANY OF THE HUNDREDS of women on the boat, I would have been knocked the fuck out. So, here's the lay of the land: skinny bitch is just as derogatory and insulting as fat bitch. My advice: Don't go to the buffet that 15th time and maybe you too can fit in the 3XL.
Sadly, the night only got worse from there. Although I was able to attend the poker tournament and watch Donnie, there was less excitement since World of Useless was... um, emceeing? At least I think that's what he was doing. It didn't last long and seeing as how this was the last night on the ship, we ran to the lido deck, foam fingers in hand. Sporty and I were determined, even after my near death experience to try and have these fingers signed again. As usual, Donnie was the first to move through the crowd and I ran as fast as my Nikes let me to get near him but, I as the scrappy running back, I fervently try to avoid being tackled by 800 linebackers, aka, Donnie Wahlberg fans. Just like in slo-mo instant replay, I saw the potential for danger and out loud, in typical only child fashion, said "Fuck this muthafucking shit." ....and went back to dancing.
Sporty, who is much scrappier than I, made an attempt to have her foam finger signed by Joey. On the inside, I chuckled to myself, "Ha,ha, ha. Ok.... Poor Sporty.... She just doesn't get it." I kept turning behind me to watch her attempt to reach the platform stage where he was standing in a Celtics jersey and kilt when all of a sudden.... something wonderful happened. Angels appeared and there was bright lights with music...... and just like that Joe fans, were---- HELPING other Joe fans. They passed pictures and room keys and shirts and hats and yes, even that foam finger. There was no pushing. There was no shoving. Sporty emerged unscathed. I was, well, I was in awe. And at the same time happy for my friend. Then something went terribly, terribly wrong.
DRUNK GIRLS EMERGED
First, Baby, the sweetest of the group was approached by the drunk southern belles and was asked to borrow her foam finger for their picture. Being normal and sweet, she agreed. When I tapped her on the shoulder, I said, "what was that all about?" and after she explained what just happened I looked at her, puzzled and said, "What the fuck did you do that for? Tell her to get her own fucking finger." She laughed. I laughed. And again we went back to dancing but the sharks were still swimming in the water as baby was tapped on the shoulder yet again. I'm funking up my groove and gettin' down until I notice Sporty being called over. This was it. The moment Baby and I waited for since the last cruise. We were about to have our asses airlifted off the boat before it docked because Sporty reached down some one's throat and ripped out their lung (on a side note, although I have never seen her do it, I can vouch for the fact that she is COMPLETELY capable of such violence).
I tip toe over to the circle and I hear this brave stupid belle ask Sporty, "Can I take a picture with your foam finger?" Oh dear mother of God, please tell me she didn't just ask that........ By now, Baby and I are not breathing for fear of what was about to transpire. Sporty, politely, at first said, "No, I'm sorry. This is signed." Now, girls steal one an other's signed shit all the time so I didn't blame her. I didn't even want Baby sharing hers and it was unsigned. The brainless belle couldn't, just couldn't let it lay.... As she was walking back to her friends, mumbling, all I heard was Sporty yell, "Excuse me, is there a problem?" I plead the Fifth on what transpired.
There is no better way to end this blog entry than with a discussion of the Wahlberg flu. Hands down, this may be my most favorite and most jealous moment of the cruise. As I've previously mentioned, contrary to last cruise, Donnie's lips touched all 2700 women on the boat this year. As he walked by me in the crowd, he (sadly) recognized my face and gave me a big smooch. Then he kissed Sporty and Baby yelled in a ooh-how-cute! tone, "You got a kiss too." As my Donnie leaned in, to make Baby's life worth living, she stuck out her cheek and later said, "I didn't want those lips anywhere near me....." and at that, pizza slices in hand, we called it a night.
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