Leaving Sail Away with a smirk, Rae and I decided to grab burgers and take them down to our cabin to finish the door and to fix our faces, since surely our luggage would have been delivered by then. I stupidly left all my makeup in my large suitcase and was at the mercy of my melting face until it arrived. If I’m going to eat a burger, I want it to be the nastiest, messiest, calorie-rich burger in all the land, so I loaded that baby up with onions, mushrooms, mayo, pickles, and everything I could fit until it was a leaning tower of disgusting that I then decided to shove into my face while I walked. I don’t know, guys. I’m just SUCH a girly girl. You know? I was perfecting the Guy Fieri “hunch” while walking, and wiping away an errant mayonnaise blob as we turned the corner to the elevator bay and ran right into Mr. Jordan Knight. Rae and I just sort of looked at him, looked at each other, looked at our burgers, shrugged and ducked into an elevator so he didn’t realize we ate food like dumb humans. Everyone knows attractive people don’t eat food. Or poop.
Once safely back in our cabin, we pushed our beds together to create more luggage space, and to cement our growing Sapphic undertones, obviously. Then I sat on my bed and shoved more burger pile into my face, directly in front of the open door. And then Z came back to see us. Right then. So now TWO men knew I ate food. What a disaster. We invited Z in, because it was already too late to keep up appearances. We chatted with him for awhile and learned that he was Donnie’s personal security detail, both on the cruise and on the set of Blue Bloods. Interesting. This seemed like a potentially valuable relationship. It’s my life goal to play a dead body on television. Blue Bloods seems like as good an opportunity as any. Let’s do this. I’m REALLY talented when it comes to laying somewhere, motionless. Just ask any sexual partner I’ve ever had. While we were schooling Z on the ins and outs of Blockhead culture (he’s SUCH a noob), Jenn came to see us and completed the Trouble Trifecta experience for Z. He’s a very nice man, for sure. Maybe too nice, since I had to remind him that I am a comedian after every self-deprecating joke I made. Which is honestly every time I speak. So. That got exhausting for all of us.
“Down time”, which is a laughable term for this cruise, is a little blurry for me what with all the vodka and rampant seasickness. But I do know that we all got ready for the Blockhead Ball before heading to the game show. Obviously, if you have late dining, you have to be prepared to haul ass to Lido immediately after whatever theater show you’ve just gone to. No wardrobe changes in between or you’ll end up relegated to the weird spot by the bathrooms, behind the pool. It’s like sitting in the bleachers during a school dance. Nobody talks to you, but you did it to yourself. My ball outfit was a vintage (1991) “Drugs Suck” t-shirt from Donnie’s anti-drug but pro-mullet crusade, and a scratchy floor-length gold skirt made of suicidal sequins. I broke the cardinal rule of ordering things online and didn’t try the skirt on in the weeks leading up to the cruise, so of course it was just a little too big. In order for my body to look decent in clothing, I need that clothing to hug my waist and to NOT MOVE. Because. I had part of my colon removed surgically (it was elective. I read a Buzzfeed list that said thigh gaps are out and intestinal gaps are in, so I booked an appointment right away), and now my belly button looks like it has a butthole of its very own. My skirt was threatening to show everyone this bellybutton butthole. So I secured it with an over-sized Joey Mac pin from the 80s. Like you do.
Once we had our faces beaten and our uncomfortable outfits secured, we realized our cabin smelled a lot like hamburger. Nothin’ sexier than the smell of ground meat and a splash of body spray. Not really knowing what to do with the rest of our burgers and uneaten, flaccid fries, we stashed the plates in the bathroom and pretended they didn’t exist. Which is honestly how I live my life in general. No sooner had we stashed the rotting cow-carcass, than did Z come back to see us (Rae) in our (her) BH Ball outfit(s). It was then that Ana asked him if her boobs distracted from the rest of her outfit, to which he responded that yes, yes they did. Fairly. She then asked him how she might get her hands on some VIP party bracelets. And he said, “keep hanging out with these two, some will magically appear”, very cryptically. I wasn’t sure if he was implying he had a thing for closeup magic, or if he was going to slip some under our door, or what. But I wanted answers. And I wanted into that night’s after party. But I didn’t want him to know that. So I gave him a sarcastic, “Oh yeah?” And moved on with my life.
Rae and I made some drinks with our $75 bottle of Skyy Vodka and headed to our first theater show of the weekend, the Game Show. And then we realized we were in the nosebleeds in the back of the theater, but don’t worry. There was a giant pole DIRECTLY in front of us. But um. Aren’t obstructed view seats supposed to come with the cheaper cabins? And aren’t you supposed to know if you might have those? We were not pleased. I had to get really friendly with the girl to my left as I leaned on her right breast for an hour, trying to catch a glimpse of Daddy’s Special Treat. For the love of everything holy, Joe was in a towel and was struggling to sit cross-legged on the damn stage and I had an OBSTRUCTED VIEW. Did I wrong someone in this life? Was this Karmic retribution? I didn’t even bother with silly questions such as, “Why are you in a towel, Joe?” Because, do you. Be nude. We love you and your surely over-hyped underwear monster.
Between Jordan lightly choking Donnie and all the drag queen runway walks, I ended up being delighted despite the obstructed view. Especially during the saga of Jon’s broken nose. I’ll not share details here on the internet since he took such great pains to make sure nobody had a camera out. I respect your pseudo-privacy, Jon. And I’ve been in a similar situation, bruh. Gotta watch the dosage. It’ll sneak up on ya. However, it was nearing the end of the game show and literally no game showing had happened. I was starting to feel bad for the excited BHs who got picked to be up there, on a team that was for no reason. But I couldn’t be salty. Not when my boo Brandon gets a chance to do his thing on stage. I want to say right here and now that I’m pretty sure Brandon is a witch. I can’t even walk down a sidewalk and maintain a conversation without getting winded. But somehow he can shake his groove thang and RAP without missing a goddamn beat. Witchcraft. Teach me your ways, witchy Brandon.
Listen, I told you guys my experience this year was weird. But if you’re into it, stick with me. Several more installments to come.