i haven't updated in 20 years.
so recapping my entire cruise will take me a lifetime. but heres what i feel like writing right now. mostly for my own memory.
day 1: miami madness. basically ice cream by the pint and egyptian ratscrew to try to make the time pass in that hotel.
day 2: boarded the ship. yay. was beautiful beautiful day. didn't get tan at all despite sprinting to the top deck and soaking up every second of sun while still at port. an awesome start.
day 3: all at sea. the boat was a beast. thats all i can say. it was super windy.
im bored of this and i'm just getting to the good part. bummer for you.
so let me tell you about fuel. well first, so that you can truly understand the level of coolness of fuel by comparison to something else, lets talk about the dungeon. basically its the club for anyone over 18 and its amazing. unfortunately, i'm 17.9999999999999 which rounds down. so lucky 17-year old christy gets to go to.....fuel. the teen dance club. and by teen i literally mean 13 and up pretty much. maybe it was 14. anyways, just think seventh grade. in seventh grade you are no longer a sixth grader, so you have a whole year of school dances under your belt. that means you are cool. or so you think. but at the same time you aren't yet an 8th grader, when you start to think that there may be better things out there. like highschool. and though the dances are still fun, you just aren't AS amazed by them anymore. so yeah, 7th grade. in your mind, the dance is cool and you are cool, and in reality you are wrong about both. fuel is good for one thing and one thing only, and that thing is picking up lanky blond closet-cases who try to impress you with their mad coffee-grinder moves and then approach you the next day with rainbow-rubberbanded corn rows. not even corn rows. just braids. oh god. i'm going to hell.
actually i've already been. (corny post-bad-joke drumroll just for those of you who know where i'm going with this). we went to a town called hell in grand cayman. there were odd rock formations and a post office with a man inside in a devil costume who tried to peer pressure you into buying post cards. there were also chickens running around all over the place. i took some pictures of them. in puddles. chickens in puddles in hell. that can be the name of my photo if it comes out good.
did i mention it rained?
"thats alotta wata mon. alotta wata. liquid sunshine" ~jamaican taxi driver.
oh another awesome quote. haha.
"when Franky's fingers freeze, and Frankies toes freeze, it's time fo Frankie to boogy!" ~Huge macho black man with white wirey pirate beard who was super jolly, lifted my 50 lb suitcase with his pinky, and shares my feelings about vermont weather.
"What we don't get down here in miami, what we just can't figure out, and maybe you can help me with this, what we dont get about you people, is how you wake up in the mornin' and you get your shovel out and you shovel the snow to get to your car, and then you get in it, and you drive. ON ICE. that makes no sense. i'm a grown man, and drivin' on ice? that scare ME."
oh Franky. i'm with ya.
anyways, i'm getting a wee bit tired. but i have tons more so prehaps i'll get back in the habit of updating regularly.
ps. and this is VERY IMPORTANT:
IF YOU TAPED THE OC, NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY. PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. THANK YOU. GOD BLESS.
day 1: miami madness. basically ice cream by the pint and egyptian ratscrew to try to make the time pass in that hotel.
day 2: boarded the ship. yay. was beautiful beautiful day. didn't get tan at all despite sprinting to the top deck and soaking up every second of sun while still at port. an awesome start.
day 3: all at sea. the boat was a beast. thats all i can say. it was super windy.
im bored of this and i'm just getting to the good part. bummer for you.
so let me tell you about fuel. well first, so that you can truly understand the level of coolness of fuel by comparison to something else, lets talk about the dungeon. basically its the club for anyone over 18 and its amazing. unfortunately, i'm 17.9999999999999 which rounds down. so lucky 17-year old christy gets to go to.....fuel. the teen dance club. and by teen i literally mean 13 and up pretty much. maybe it was 14. anyways, just think seventh grade. in seventh grade you are no longer a sixth grader, so you have a whole year of school dances under your belt. that means you are cool. or so you think. but at the same time you aren't yet an 8th grader, when you start to think that there may be better things out there. like highschool. and though the dances are still fun, you just aren't AS amazed by them anymore. so yeah, 7th grade. in your mind, the dance is cool and you are cool, and in reality you are wrong about both. fuel is good for one thing and one thing only, and that thing is picking up lanky blond closet-cases who try to impress you with their mad coffee-grinder moves and then approach you the next day with rainbow-rubberbanded corn rows. not even corn rows. just braids. oh god. i'm going to hell.
actually i've already been. (corny post-bad-joke drumroll just for those of you who know where i'm going with this). we went to a town called hell in grand cayman. there were odd rock formations and a post office with a man inside in a devil costume who tried to peer pressure you into buying post cards. there were also chickens running around all over the place. i took some pictures of them. in puddles. chickens in puddles in hell. that can be the name of my photo if it comes out good.
did i mention it rained?
"thats alotta wata mon. alotta wata. liquid sunshine" ~jamaican taxi driver.
oh another awesome quote. haha.
"when Franky's fingers freeze, and Frankies toes freeze, it's time fo Frankie to boogy!" ~Huge macho black man with white wirey pirate beard who was super jolly, lifted my 50 lb suitcase with his pinky, and shares my feelings about vermont weather.
"What we don't get down here in miami, what we just can't figure out, and maybe you can help me with this, what we dont get about you people, is how you wake up in the mornin' and you get your shovel out and you shovel the snow to get to your car, and then you get in it, and you drive. ON ICE. that makes no sense. i'm a grown man, and drivin' on ice? that scare ME."
oh Franky. i'm with ya.
anyways, i'm getting a wee bit tired. but i have tons more so prehaps i'll get back in the habit of updating regularly.
ps. and this is VERY IMPORTANT:
IF YOU TAPED THE OC, NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY. PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. THANK YOU. GOD BLESS.