The News Round Up

Hey all... I'm back. Sort of.

I'll be leaving again shortly as MDH and I pack up for a week long stay in a hotel starting Monday when the people we hired to refinish our hardwood floors begin to do so.

They told us that it will take 4 days and after they are finished we won't be able to walk on the floors in shoes or move the furniture back where it belongs for another week after that. That may seem like a long time to have things scattered all over the place, but because it's been this way for so long already, I've become accustomed to living in a pig sty. So whatever dude.

Actually, I've never been more excited to stay at a hotel in my entire life. It's just the crappy Ramada down the street, but it will be a week of living like a semi-normal person again. I won't have to turn sideways to walk through my kitchen and I already know exactly where the phone book will be (in the nightstand drawer).

The floor people were able to schedule the work in just the nick of time. I've gotten so used to living in this mess that one more day of it and I would have begun wearing nothing but mumus and eating all my food straight out of the can.

In the comments of this post, which contains the majority of my bitching, somebody made the clever suggestion that we move everything back to it's proper place until time came closer to the actual date when the work was to be done. Yes. Thanks for that. Marvelous idea. I hear you. It makes perfect sense and would probably have been a fine thing for us to do if we were not the two laziest people on planet earth and possibly galaxies beyond.

Anyhoo... now there is an end in sight.

Meanwhile I realized that not only have I been neglecting my blog I've also left it hanging with a couple of untidy loose ends that I intend to take care of in this post.

Like first of all:

Whatever happened between Gaydar and Jogger? Remember that whole thing with the old man with the crush on the young girl and the mysterious packet of Oreo cookies? Well I swear on a stack of chocolate cream filled cookies that the very next day after I wrote that post - what should I see displayed prominently on my very own desk when I got to work? Yes. A mysterious packet of Oreo cookies.

Anyway... here's what happened... Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was weird and I half wondered if Gaydar hadn't read my blog post where I all but called him a dirty old man because his annoying harassment of Jogger seemed to end right after I wrote it.

Jogger and I still don't know who gave us the cookies.

and loose end number 2:

The Case of the Olive Garden Charges
In this post I wrote a few months ago about a mysterious charge I noticed on our family credit card statement to the Olive Garden to the sum of $52.83 and the arguments and accusations of bad taste that ensued between me and MDH. A week or so later I called my mother who thanked me for the Olive Garden gift card I had sent to them for their anniversary. What a relief! Neither of us remembered having eaten at the Olive Garden because neither of has had.

And now a numbered list of random bullshit:

1. I dyed my hair back to my "natural color". At least I think it's my natural color. Over the years my blond highlight just kept getting lighter and lighter and my hair was starting to look fried. It's brownish now and very shiny again.

2. MDH does not like my new old hair color. He said he finds it "jarring". Too bad mutha fucka.

3. I drove around the block and wrote down the address of the house where the dog lives that barks all goddamn night and keeps me awake. I don't know what I'm going to do with it yet, probably call the police the next time it happens. I have also toyed with the idea of finding out the phone number of the house too and then calling these assholes at 2am when they let their dog bark and howl for hours on end.

4. I have become addicted to the new HBO series True Blood. I know, I know. Vampires. But trust me, it's really good.

5. I have also become addicted to the MTV show called Exiled where the little spoiled rotten assholes previously featured on My Super Sweet 16 are hauled off like criminals in the night, made to live among families in third world countries and forced to perform chores such as making huts out of cow poop and sleep on dirt floors. It's wonderful. A feel good festival of grins and evil giggling.

6. Mr. Boo got me last week. I vowed that I would never let this happen, but it did and I am ashamed. You see, I was deep in conversation with my back to the cubicle aisle way and the asshat snuck up behind me and burst a handful of bubble wrap in my ear. I won't go into detail about what happened or what I said to him afterward, but suffice it to say that he limped away from the experience holding onto his ball sack for dear life and has still not been able to look me in the eye nearly a week later. I have no fear that he'll ever sneak up and scare me again.

Adventures in Phobia Part 2

Yesterday I posted about our narrowly missed twin appointments with death and stupidity when I fainted, causing everyone on an NCL shore excursion to collectively change their minds and decide not to ride down the side of an 10,000 foot volcano on bicycles at 20 mph in the fog and rain.

Today I will tell you about the other very stupid shore excursion we booked on our 2005 NCL Hawaiian cruise.

Kona Ocean Kayak & Snorkel (from the NCL Shore Excursion Catalog):
Kayak along four miles of the scenic Kona coastline and black lava sea cliffs to Kuamoo Bay. Along the way, see great sea caves and giant lava tubes; you may even spot a playful dolphin or a green sea turtle! Then, jump into the waters of a protected cove to snorkel and see some of Hawaii's marine life up-close. Don't worry beginners, a friendly and knowledgeable guide will greet you and provide you with basic paddling and snorkeling instructions and safety information. Note: Participants must be at least 10 years of age. We recommend you wear a swimsuit and bring a towel. This tour is not recommended for those with back problems or heart conditions.

This shore excursion was a much smaller group than the Maui Downhill adventure and we rode to the beach in a normal van, rather than the extendo 15 passenger crash mobile I described yesterday. Our tour guide didn't say much, but he looked like he belonged in one of those 1960's surfer movies with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello. He even wore a floppy woven straw hat and threadbare khaki pants cut off at the knee like some kind of castaway. Like our mountain bike guide in Maui a few days before, he also called everyone "Bra" and "Cousin".

We arrived at the beach where life vests were passed out and kayaks assigned to us in pairs. MDH insisted on sitting in the back of our assigned kayak. In other aspects of our lives together he seems to prefer letting me be in front of him also. He says it's because he likes to watch my ass, but I'm pretty sure it's so he can keep a protective eye on me and catch all of the shit that I'm constantly knocking over in stores with my big giant purse without realizing it.

We got into the boat where we flailed around for about 10 minutes while our guide was giving instructions on how to move around, steer and right the boat should we tip over.

MDH and I missed this entirely.

Our guide didn't seem to notice, but we were about 20 feet away from the rest of the group paddling wildly around in circles further and further away, arguing.

By the time we pulled the oars out of our asses and paddled up to the rest of the group the guide shouted cheerfully, "OK, off we go!" and he and the rest of the groups glided out of the shallow, protected cove toward the big giant, very deep sea. I didn't know how deep it was until I heard someone shout out the question and the guide shouted back that it was somewhere between 200 and I don't remember, but it might have been 10,000 feet deep.

It was deep.

It was very deep and we were floating around in crazy circles on it in a tiny plastic piece of shit.

I didn't start to panic for real until we had paddled out of the bay into the deeper water and 3 things happened:

1. I looked back at MDH and he wasn't wearing his life vest. When I asked him where it was he said he had taken it off to use as a seat cushion.
I screeched back to him, "Are you outta your goddamn mind!?" as just then...

2. a swell about 6 feet high rocked our kayak and temporarily blocked my view of the boats in front of us. When the swell had passed...

3. The boat in front of us that had been carrying an older woman (about 50 or so) and her grown son (about 25 or so) had tipped over and both of them were flapping around, spitting and helpless while I watched their oars float away in the next 6 foot swell.

I had 3 epiphanies:

1. If our boat tipped over MDH were too out of shape to ever be able to get back into it and we would drown or a shark would come and eat my legs off, which would only draw the attention of more sharks and we would both die in a horrible blood bath feeding frenzy while the rest of the group kept paddling off without noticing.



2. I was having a gargantuan panic attack that included hyperventilation and if our boat tipped over I was too frightened and freaked out to make safe decisions and would probably drown and/or be eaten by sharks as described in epiphany #1.

3. Fuck it. I realized that we weren't that far out of the bay and that we didn't have to do this. We could turn around and go back. Just fuck it. (How's that for an athletic shoe slogan?)

I screamed back to MDH without taking my eyes off the next oncoming wave, "We don't have to do this!!!", to which he replied, "Good, 'cause I don't want to do this anymore either!" Great minds think alike. Great cowardly, scared shitless minds.

We hailed Moondoggie over and explained our decision and he paddled along side us until we were safely back to the shore where we thanked him and apologized profusely for any inconvenience we had caused. He was really nice about it and reassured us that lots of other people did the same thing. He also explained that we were going to be stranded there until the tour ended 4 hours later, because in addition to being our guide, he was also our driver. We told him we'd find our own way back, thanked him and apologized again.

After Moondoggie paddled out of site I cried like a big giant baby into the crook of MDH's arm. It was that bad kind of crying too with dripping snot and uncontrollable moaning. He held me tight until I was all done and let me blow my nose into the extra t-shirt he had brought along.

Then we began the long walk back into Kona town.

We must have looked pretty bedraggled because we didn't get further than a mile up the road before we got picked up by 2 golfer guys in a shiny red Mustang convertable who gave us a lift back into town. It's the only time in my life I have ever accepted a ride from a stanger. It shocked me to my core when they asked and MDH immediately said "Yes!"

It was an eye opening experience, way more so than the volcano mountain bike thing. I have nothing more to say about it except that we spent the rest of the day in Kona town, drinking coffee and eating pizza by the slice. We had a waterproof camera with us that day, but we didn't take any pictures. I do however, have this business card. It's a little dog eared because I keep it in my wallet to remind myself of what is the better way to spend my time.

Adventures in Phobia Part 1

My husband is always scheming and plotting travels. So much so that he has instructed me, in the case of his sudden death or coma to immediately go to the Marriot resorts website and cancel the multiple dream reservations he has made.

Currently we have reservations for 2008 in Bali, Turks & Caicos, Ireland and a Celebrity Cruise to Alaska, and these are only the ones I know about. I'm sure there are many more. The man likes to plan trips in the way that other people like to spend imaginary lottery winnings.

I'm not certain that any of our 2008 dream travel plans will come to fruition. Maybe one or two of them, but who can say? We usually go on one big vacation and several smaller, long weekend trips every year. We aren't rich, except in love, and our income has been cut by a third since I haven't been working.

Anyhoo... In the short time that we have known each other I've been to more places than I ever dreamed possible.

This time last year I was getting the house in order and the laundry ready for 8 days in Maui. It was our second time to Hawaii together and his third (he took his mother several years ago before we met). The vacation was fantastic. We hiked and snorkeled, we watched every sunrise and sunset together, laid on the beach when we were tired, and went on two whale watches. We had learned a lot on our first trip to Hawaii about what not to do.

Our first time to Hawaii together in 2005, we went on a cruise and made two huge mistakes. First of all, we went on a cruise. Hello? What the hell were we thinking? Cruises are teeming with annoyances - like e-coli and thousands of other people you are forced to wait in line behind. We also tried to squeeze in as much adventure shore excursions as possible, forgetting that we are both middle-aged and quite fat, and also that I am afraid of heights, deep water and don't like to get dirty.

The brochures the cruise company kept sending us, in the months leading up to our big adventure, displayed dazzling color photos of tanned, athletic and ecstatic looking older people, zip lining across forest canopies, surfing, sea kayaking, cliff diving and riding a mountain bikes down mountainous volcanos. These brochures made it seem like we'd be crazy not to try these things.

We couldn't afford to do them all so we settled on four, two of which were activities that we considered to be "once in a lifetime" opportunities (to maim and/or kill ourselves in painful and frightening ways).

Maui Downhill Cycle Adventure (from the NCL Shore Excusion Catalog):
Take the downhill bicycle ride of your life as you bike down Haleakala Volcano. Enjoy your beautiful surroundings as you travel at speeds up to 20 miles per hour through some of the most unique parts of Maui. Your adventure begins with a van ride to the summit and will end at the Sunrise Market and Protea Farm. You'll be escorted by an expert volcano guide, and followed by an escort van. Note: Participants must be at least 12 years of age, at least 5 feet tall and weigh no more than 250 lbs. Pregnant women are prohibited from this excursion. Bring a sweatshirt as temperatures can be cool at the summit and wear closed-toe shoes. This tour is not for beginners.

We rode to the summit via the narrow and twisting volcano road in one of those 15 passenger church-type vans that always seem to be crashing, while filled to capacity with student athletes, church choirs, or marching bands, on the way to important competitions, tragically killing everyone on board. It was the one exception I have made to my rule of never riding in one of these vans.

Along the way our guide, who called everyone "Bra" or "Cousin", entertained us with not so hilarious stories of downhill cycling adventures gone wrong as he pointed out the various spots where previous idiots had been seriously injured or killed on long ride down. I'm sure he meant this as a way to pass the time, give us safety tips and teach us about what not to do. It did nothing but scare the bejeezus of me and about halfway up I began to panic and as the air became thinner and thinner I also became light headed and lost my ability to breathe.

I laughed it off as the motion sickness I sometimes get if I'm not able to see out the window of moving vehicles. But when I looked out the window of the van, all I could see was the edge of volcanic insanity and it was a very long way down. Better to be nauseous I thought, so I kept my eyes in the van.

In for a penny, in for a pound. There was no turning back. There was nowhere to go but down. On a bike. In the rain. Toward oncoming traffic on a narrow, twisting, 2-lane volcano road with very few guardrails.

I kept reassuring MDH that I was fine and this was a great idea and that we were going to have so much fun and that I was really more excited than frightened.

I lied.

Did I mention that it was raining to beat the band and the air was choked with fog?

When we got to the drop off point at the top I hopped unsteadily off the van and put on the helmet, goggles and giant yellow rubber pancho and matching pants we had been given to wear for the ride down. The clear plastic goggles fogged up immediately and I couldn't see a thing. It was like wearing a body bag with metal trash can for a hat.

All my discomfort, dizziness and lack of oxygen melted away temporarily when I took a deep breath, walked few steps to join the rest of our group and fainted for the first time in my entire life. It was the most relaxed I had been all morning.

This caused everyone to freak out, especially my darling. Apparently I wasn't the only one with reservations about this shore excursion who had been hiding light headedness and panic. The driver and guide gathered the group and we all voted unanimously to retreat and all hopped eagerly back onto the church van and headed back down the mountain to safety and sanity. They even refunded our money.

MDH and I counted it as a free day and went back to the ship and celebrated our new found appreciation of a life well-lived in spite of not facing danger in the eye, with a few fruity cocktails at the bar followed by the good kind of "nap" back in our cabin.

When we went back to Maui last year we would occasionally see van loads of hopeful bikers riding to the top of the mountain and thanked our lucky stars that it rained and I had passed out. It's good to be old, fat, alive and unharmed.

See you at the bottom, suckers!