Hello, readers!

I’d say, ‘Hello, non-readers!’, but they’ll never see this. And, if for some reason a non-reader is like, ‘Did you say, ‘Hello, non-readers!’ on Monday, June 30th?’ I’ll just punch them in their fucking non-reading eyes because fuck them and how dare they question me. Right? This is how you properly communicate with people, right? Saying hello to some and punching others in their eyes? RIGHT IN THEIR EYES!

Ok. This has gotten off to an odd start.

Remember Anthony Bouvier from DESIGNING WOMEN?

He’s the one in the middle who doesn’t look like Paula Dean’s even bitchier friend.


Do you remember Hollywood Montrose from MANNEQUIN and MANNEQUIN TWO: ON THE MOVE?

Sadly, both iconic characters are now dead because Meschach Taylor is dead. He died of cancer over the weekend.

I more than watched my fair share of Designing Women when I was younger and I certainly watched Mannequin as well as Mannequin Two when I was kid. I probably saw Mannequin enough times for whatever reason that I am partially responsible for the completely unnecessary Mannequin Two.

Isn’t it amazing that the only person from the featured line-up of the memorable Mannequin film that signed on for the sequel was Meschach Taylor? Sure, the best part of Mannequin was Hollywood’s hilarity, but why didn’t they just make a spinoff Mannequin movie then with Hollywood as the lead instead of simply REBOOTING the Mannequin series with another hot blonde white chick mannequin and another dime a dozen white guy lead that fall in love with randomly enough Meschach Taylor as this link to a world where hot blonde white chicks are all the time being turned into mannequins or into human beings from mannequins and immediately following in love with the first average looking, bank commercial face having, white guy? I don’t know. I don’t even know if that paragraph makes sense!


Meschach. Dead.

Let me tell you a story about Broadway and Meschach Taylor and me and my dad. Are you on the edge of your seat?!

As a given, my dad doesn’t really know me THAT well. I mean we’ve known each other our entire lives, I lived in my parents’ house for by far most of my life, and him and I have been in close contact for 31 years at this point. BUT! That doesn’t mean if he was posed with a multiple choice quiz about his only son that he would be able to get a passing grade. If it was fill-in-the-blank, he’d fail. Multiple choice? He would have a 50/50 shot at getting a 50 on the quiz.

Cut to: circa 1995.

I don’t remember exactly what year, but at the earliest it was ’95. Maybe ’96, maybe ’97. I’m in middle school and/or the beginning of high school.

My parents, my sister, and myself are out to dinner in New York City before we are going to a Broadway play. It could have been a number of plays, not sure which one, but that doesn’t matter.

We’re eating dinner at B. Smith’s. It’s a hip and fancy place run by, of course, B. Smith who The New York Daily News called “one of the most important African-American style mavens of all time.” Anyway, we’re there and we’re eating. When suddenly, my father says…

“Hey Jordan, there’s one of your guys.”

Hey Jordan, there’s one of your guys?

Let’s deconstruct this…

Hey – Your attention, now!

Jordan – Me

There’s – In this restaurant over yonder I have spotted

One of your guys – A select member of a personal stable that is of my very particular interest

Now, that we fully understand my father’s statement that was directed at his one and only son, me, let’s take a guess who the fuck he was talking about.

This blog is not meant for mystery. I’m not writing paranormal detective noir over here. Although, I believe I could. It could feature a man and his dog going out for walks around their suburban town where they uncover werewolves and undead hauntings and satanic cults!

But I digress…

Of course, my dear dad’s statement about “one of your guys” was referring to…


And he was right. That was indeed Meshach Taylor sitting on the other side of the restaurant eating dinner as well. And, in some strange way, I guess my dad is right that Meshach Taylor is one of MY guys because I did watch “Designing Women” with my mom and sister because I watched whatever TV was being watched and I did see Mannequin and Mannequin Two because HBO felt it necessary to play both constantly for much of the early 90’s for some reason or another.

My mom, my sister, and myself had quite a laugh at my dad’s expense. Not just that night, but still to this day. Although, he didn’t see the humor in it nor does he now.

Either way, RIP Meschach Taylor – you brought me laughs directly and indirectly.

Besides that…

Danielle and I were in the Broadway world the other day on Saturday as we saw ALL THE WAY starring Bryan Cranston.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but we saw the play on its second to last night I believe. Pretty random.

The play itself was incredibly acted. Cranston ate up the stage from beginning to end. I’m not sure how many actors could have demanded that much attention as well as oscillated between hero and villain the way he did for a nearly 3 hour play.

I know I haven’t been posting at all. I know that because I’m the one who thinks of posting, but then doesn’t.

What have I been up to?

Watching the World Cup and Orange is the New Black. That’s been the majority of it.

The World Cup has been phenomenally entertaining thus far. Removing any nationalistic loyalties or simply rooting behavior – the games have been fucking crazy fucking exciting. I remember the last two World Cups vividly and besides giving me an undying love for vuvuzelas – the last two World Cups pale in comparison to this one as a whole and from what I’ve read of the others and remember from 2002’s and so on… this is the best fucking World Cup.

Yesterday’s two matches were insane. Poor Mexico giving up the game with 2 goals in a matter of minutes right at the end of the fucking game – a game that they dictated the pace and were winning up until 3 minutes left. Then, Costa Rica who was winning the game and got fucked over with a player getting ejected, and they gave up the tying goal with almost 0 time left in the fucking game. The Ricans continue to fight and keep the game tied for all of overtime to then go on to win in the penalty kick shootout. IT WAS INTENSE.

As for Orange is the New Black…

TITS! Seriously, there were so many nipples this season it was as if I was directing Orange is the New Black. Uhhh, yeah, this is a good scene and all, but how about you just take your top off at some point regardless of context. Oh wait, is your character a lesbian? No one has said if you’re a lesbian or not? Well, then, guess who has just become a lesbian?! You! And show us your bare breasts now. Also, we’ve just hired the bustiest German girl you’ll ever meet for you to be lesbians with. Congrats!

Seriously!!!!! WHAT ABOUT THAT GERMAN CHICKS BOOBS!!!!!?????!!!!

I would imagine most people were hoping for a “P” Poussey Washington flashback and SURE AS SHIT THEY GOT ONE! WOOOOO!!!

If you haven’t watched this season yet or haven’t gotten to this episode… KEEP READING… these are not spoilers… these are YOU GOT TO SEE THIS EPISODE BECAUSE THIS GERMAN CHICK HAS SOME CANS ON HER-ers… like a teaser, but with nipples, so the best teaser ever.

Let’s just say that Poussey aka Samira Wiley gets naked. Apparently, under that baggy grey sweatshirt she’s always wearing is like a runway model naked body. Who knew?

Let’s just also say that the German chick they cast opposite of Samira Wiley… HAS THE BIGGEST SET OF NAKED BOOBS YOU’LL SEE ON NARRATIVE TELEVISION THIS SIDE OF TRUE DETECTIVE. What a great fucking year for boobs, right? We have Alexandra Daddario absolutely kill it by being naked on True Detective and then now this random German woman with huge boobs doing 80% of her screen time on Orange is the New Black topless and doing lesbian stuff. Just wonderful.

The rest of the season was solid.

So, that’s what has been going on for me. I’ve been eating a lot of kale too.


Oh yeah!

Could I have said that with a more delicate touch? Probably, but then I wouldn’t be me and this me is from the U. S. of A. and I’m still reeling from that motherfucking win yesterday.




Hello! Hello, lovely people of this world!

Of course, I am only THIS happy because of the above corner kick to header goal that sealed Ghana and the US’ fate last night.

Sealed a fate that was a very different fate than the last two times the US played Ghana in the World Cup.

Oh, it was a doozy of a moment. The whole match itself was a doozy.

I’m sure everyone has heard about what happened by now, but it was fucking awesome.

Specifically, the last World Cup, a couple of friends and myself watched all the US games together where ever that happened. One time we met up at bar in Times Square, a bar on 80th, and so on where ever. But we watched them together and each time we did – they were filled with yelling, screaming, and just absolutely losing our shit, so we met up in the city last night to do it all over again.

We ended up at Stout on 33rd, which was wall-to-wall people, but we had a nice spot carved out in the middle of the bar.

We got there about an hour early and were already on beer 4 when the game started.

And then this happened…





That’s Clint Dempsey, America’s skinny scoring machine, sneaking one past about 30 seconds into the fucking game. THIRTY SECONDS!!! As one would expect, the bar went fucking bananas!!! There are videos all over the interwebz showing people going fucking apeshit after this goal and I’m sure there are a few of Stout up there because everyone whipped out their cellphones to start taking videos of everyone screaming their fucking heads off.

So, from 30 seconds into the game – I was hoarse.

My throat is killing me right now as I type this. It was worth it, but it kills.

So, what happened next?

Well, the US was playing well for a few minutes. But disaster started striking with Jozy Altidore coming up gimpy and straining his hamstring, which was devastating to watch. Then a Ghana-ian(?) breaks Clint’s nose with his shin. BEASLEY IS ON THE TAKE! Beasley was making so many bonehead errors with the ball, we’re yelling in the bar about which member of Beasley’s family has gambling debts that Beasley is being forced to throw this game for those mob guys to win out with their bets. And the US was still up 1-0, but they looked like garbage.

For the rest of the game, it was hard to watch as the US was on constant defense to the point you would assume they were playing a man down the whole time, but they weren’t. They just couldn’t put it together. It felt like they didn’t know how to be the better team, how to still be aggressive if you’re winning, and all these just mental hurdles.

The inevitable happens late in the game and Ghana scores and I just wanted to poop on the bar floor and start throwing my feces at all the early 20’s girls in the bar who spent the entirety of the game taking selfies to prove to someone else not in that bar that they went to a bar to watch the soccer game and how cute their outfits were when they did that. EAT MY POOP SELFIE ROBOTS!!!

No joke – later when I got back home and was with Danielle, I held her in my arms and said to her as lovingly as I could, “Thank you for not being like those cunts at the bar.” And that’s love folks!

Then when all seemed lost, I decided to go to the bathroom. Yes, I decided to go to the bathroom with just a few minutes left in the game because I thought soon as the game ended people would dive onto those bathrooms like with each flush gold coins would fill the bowl, so I tried to beat the rush.

BUT!!!! I’m not one of those sob stories of someone missing the game winning goal while int the bathroom. Nope! I did see that guy, but that guy was not me. The game winning header happened while I was waiting in line and I could see a TV from where I was watching. So… the header goes in…



Then I high fived some guy who was standing near me.

Then the sad idiot who missed the goal came out of the bathroom.

Then I celebrated the US going up 2-1 with only stoppage time remaining by pissing out 6 beers as fast as I could.

We’ve got Portugal this Sunday and I’m just fucking psyched. THREE POINTS, BABY!!!!

But I do have one question…


This is the fucking most motherfucking exciting World Cup ever.

It started on Thursday and since then there have been I think 15 games played – one going on currently with Belgium vs. Algeria – and there has been a single tie. THERE HAS BEEN A SINGLE TIE!!! THAT’S FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

I really like the first stage of the World Cup, well, I like all the stages of the World Cup. I love everything about the tournament itself with games ending by shoot outs. SHOOT OUTS!!! Anyway, I do like the round-robin first stage of the World Cup, but there is one downfall to that and that’s ties. There can be ties in the first stage. It’s just a part of the game. There can be ties in the NFL, NHL, boxing, cagefighting, and so on, so ties are not the worst thing in the world. They happen. They’re not great, but they happen. And, it’s just something you deal with in the first stage of the World Cup and then once they move onto the next stage – NO MORE TIES. But here we are on Tuesday and we’ve had definite endings to all but ONE game so far. That’s incredible.

There have been a lot of goals scored, there have been several big upsets already, there have been at least 3 games I can think of off the top of my head so far that have been decided by a goal in STOPPAGE TIME. THAT’S FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Once the first stage is over… it’s like everyone’s birthday because SHOOT OUTS!!! 

I love games being decided in the 90 minutes of course, but if it doesn’t then… SHOOT OUTS!!! Shoot outs are fucking nuts.

As I write this… Algeria is …. AHHHHH!!!! ALGERIA SCORES A PENALTY KICK!!!!!

Belgium is the heavy favorite to win this and they just committed a bad foul near the goal and Algeria capitalizes with the penalty kick and he puts it right the fuck in. Algeria hasn’t scored a fucking goal in the World Cup since 1986. I was living in Pittsburgh and playing with sticks and pretending they were guns and I legitimately thought graham crackers were the greatest invention in human history.

I’ve been loving the cup. Of course, I won’t pretend like I would be anywhere near as positive about the cup if the US lost yesterday, but they didn’t and I guess one of my parallel universe selves where the US did lose can spend his day crying about it, but I’m fucking happy in this dimension.

I hope everyone else is doing great!

I had a great birthday on Sunday.

I love you.


Let’s get the fuck into this and no screwing around! ALRIGHT? ALRIGHT!!!!


Our last stop in Alaska… Skagway, Alaska. But we didn’t stay in Skagway too long because we ventured to Canada.

Take a wild fucking guess how early in the morning Danielle and I got up for day 5?


That’s right, we got up at 6 in the fucking morning on our VACATION for this excursion day. It should be illegal to wake up at 6 in the morning on your vacation. Illegal. They should arrest you and and whomever made you get up.

Honestly, we were probably up before 6 in the morning because of the torpedo sounds I mentioned yesterday, which started at some point between 5 and 6 am. I have no idea how these boats dock or what have you, but there has to be a better way than anything that involves torpedo sounds. It was like we were living in a foley artist’s wet dream sound stage for “Crimson Tide”. Not sure if that metaphor works, but I enjoyed mentioning foley artists. Foley artists are the idiots stabbing raw chicken with a butcher knife next to a 2 foot in diameter microphone to record all those gruesome sounds of someone getting knifed up in a movie. And they’re the same idiots knocking coconuts together to make the sound of horse hooves galloping. And for some reason, a lot of foley artists come from a dance background. Why? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS! I wish I fucking knew, but I don’t. I met a foley artist once who worked for Warner Bros. on a tour of Warner Bros. in Los Angeles and he said that surprising/confusing “fact” and I was the only person on the tour who found that fucking weird and wanted an answer, but the foley artist in question was such a weirdo he didn’t know how to interact with other human beings so he looked me dead in the eye and just shook off the question as if it didn’t happen and everyone else on the tour couldn’t have cared any less about this guy, so we just moved on to the next stop of the tour.

Back to Alaska, we get off the boat at that unGodly hour and we meet up with a couple of stoner looking dudes who lead us to… a row of brand new Jeep Wranglers.

This excursion may have been my favorite excursion. It’s really tough to tell since I really loved everything we did, but this was the only one where I actually did anything. I just sat in the plane, I sat on the boat, I sat in the golf cart as the dogs dragged me around, but on this excursion I sat in a car… a car that I got to drive! Wooooo!!! I drove a car in Alaska and in the Yukon country of Canada.

There were 14 brand new – less than 1000 miles – Jeep Wranglers and 40 some odd tourists and we were broken up among the jeeps to then drive 60 miles out and 60 miles back through some of the most redonkulous beautiful country I’ve ever seen and probably will ever see.

If you’re doing the math – and you should – that’s more people than jeeps and more than 2 people per jeep and more than 3 people per jeep. Two tour guides were jumping into the jeeps as well. So, let me just save you the trouble, it was roughly 4 people per jeep. Also, if you’re doing the math – Danielle and I only count as two people (regardless of the fact that I’m more or less two average sized humans sandwiched together to become one Voltron-like-sized human), so 2 doesn’t equal 4 and … I’m screwing this up.



When we looked at the guide book it mentioned that this was a possibility, but I didn’t really think about it too much because whatever. But after a few days of being on the cruise and a few days of me learning that I don’t like anyone on this cruise, when it came time to leave for this excursion the idea really started dawning on me that sharing a jeep with another cruise couple for 5 hours was going to be EXCRUCIATING.

We get on the bus and none of the couples on the bus looked like people I would want to be on a bus with let alone stuck in a tiny ass jeep with. And listen folks, as mentioned with my enormity, I’m not built to sit in the back of a Jeep Wrangler. So, I was getting awfully worried how this was going to pan out.

The jeep guide started pairing couples off to get into the jeeps and I thought _dharv and I were going to end up in a jeep with this middle-aged couple who looked quite joyless and the husband was wearing a Philadelphia Flyers hat. I was thinking I was going to try and start a conversation I suppose about the Flyers hat. Maybe he’s from Philadelphia, I went to school in Philadelphia. Maybe he’s from South Jersey, we’re from New Jersey. It’s all going to suck, but I could try to find some common…

WAIT A SECOND! The jeep guide paired that idiot couple off with the other idiot couple that’s from Texas. AMAZING! You know why that’s amazing! THEY WERE THE ONLY PEOPLE LEFT!!!!


It’s pretty fucking easy to tell how ecstatic I am in this picture about how this fortunate turn of events played out. Right? Ok, honestly, I see that I’m not really much of a smiler in pictures, but I’m happy. Ok! I am or was. Also, I didn’t want to do a touchdown dance celebration when he gave us our own jeep thinking the dude would find the celebration not tasteful and then stuff us into a jeep with dirtbag smoker guy who we found out later drove like an idiot … AND… was also from Texas. So, I kept it low key as I do and just quietly celebrated in my head.

So, there we were. Danielle and I comfortably seated in our own jeep with no need to make small talk with two idiots we’ve never met before nor cared enough about that if they got lost in the Yukon country forever that as mentioned we wouldn’t care about it. It was great having the jeep to ourselves. I got to drive with no worry about some dillhole asking me for his turn to drive or her turn to drive and Danielle got to take a billion pictures of all the ridiculous scenery and we got to say the ridiculous things we say when we’re around each other and no one else is listening and we also got to listen to music that we wanted to listen to without worrying about the other morons and their thoughts.

We pretty much just tooled around Alaska and Canada and it was amazing.

We made a few stops to take these majestic pictures of scenery and… one time…

A MOOSE!!!! That moose was actually really close to the cars. It charged at us and the tour guide was quite scared and the people taking photographs didn’t seem scared considering they probably didn’t think that a moose was fast or much of a charging animal, but they are.

We stopped to grab some food as well in a town called Carcross out in the middle of nowhere in Canada…

So, it was a fun drive. We drove the 60 miles from Skagway to Carcross and had a picnic and coffee. The tour guides on the drive kept in touch with all the drivers via CB radios that each Jeep had. And because we went into Canada, we had to have our passports and had to go through border patrol and so forth. I mean it took 2 seconds, but we did it. And with that…



Buy a bunch of Jeep Wranglers, hire a bunch of college kids, do these tours for 6 months or so, and establish yourselves as a legitimate jeep tour company. THEN! Start loading a few of the jeeps with weed in Carcross where it appeared there may be 10 people who live in the town and 3 of them are the women who run this hippie coffee shop, which served really nice gluten free muffins and cookies. Not that I give a shit about gluten free, but I do give a lot of shits about cookies and muffins. Anyway, load the jeeps with pot and then drive them right over the border – which takes half a second and is manned by a man who looked to have the wit and body of Homer Simpson – and then I guess do something with the pot once it is in Alaska. I don’t know! Get a floatplane and fly it somewhere else. It’s in the US. If that’s the difficult part then I’ve solved that for you.

Just think about it. It seems like it’s a rock solid business plan.

Besides the cookies, the weed, and the jeeps and all that, there is one other story from Carcross and it involves this magnificent dog…


So, I got some coffee from the three ladies and it was good and I had mentioned to Danielle they also have muffins and cookies. So, she went into the the three ladies’ shop and picked out a muffin that she wanted. I said I would wait in line and so forth and she could go back to the jeep. I get the muffin and the cookie for myself and I leave the three ladies’ coffee shop and I see Danielle.

Danielle says to me with a big bubbly smile on her face that she just pet this dog. And I look to my right and I see the dog in the picture in the bed of the truck and it’s just staring right at me and it’s like 5 feet from. So, in my head, I’m like, “Danielle just pet that dog. I’ll go pet that dog.” And I take a step toward the dog in the truck with my hand out like I’m going to pet the dog and the dog moves toward me in the truck wagging its tail with its head down in a submissive way and that’s when…


NO!!!! She screams. DON’T PET THAT DOG!!! She yells. NO!!!! She screams once more. All of a sudden, Danielle is in a terrifying horror movie and I don’t understand why. But I’m like inches from the dog, so I look at Danielle with a completely confused face and continue to move toward the dog, the dog who is 150% on board with me petting it, while Danielle continues to amplify as if I was about to fall into a pit of lava or about to open a door that separated me and Freddy Krueger. Danielle yells JORDAN!!! THE OWNER!?!?!?!! THE OWNER’S NOT THERE!!! WHAT ABOUT THE OWNER!!?!?!??!!?!!! And, I’m thinking, “Uh, who gives a shit? I’ll pet the dog. It’ll take two seconds and then I’ll leave and the owner won’t know a thing.”

So, I pet the dog despite Danielle’s incredible protests to do otherwise. I then make my way over to Danielle where she is not happy with me. And, I’m like, “What’s the big deal? You pet the dog. Why couldn’t I pet the dog?” Then Danielle explains that the dog she pet wasn’t that dog, but some dog that appeared and disappeared before I showed up from the coffee shop and it just so happened that there was another dog in that truck who she was taking a picture of when I showed up. Oh.

It didn’t make much sense, but it was funny and I really hope someone else from the tour saw all of that play out because it was a dramatic and tense and vocal 8 seconds of life.

Moving on, Danielle does take some great pictures. We can all agree on that.

This is Emerald lake and it’s fucking beautiful.

Also, something nuts that we saw near Carcross…

Is this desert.


I don’t understand it, but there’s a fucking desert all of a sudden outside of Carcross. It’s crazy. It’s sand and hills and sand and it’s weird and amazing.

So, we drive 60 miles out and 60 miles back and I was fucking beat after that drive.

We got back to Skagway and we ducked into the Skagway Brewery where we tasted each of the micro-breweries beers, had some burgers which were excellent, and I purchased my only souvenirs from there – two pint glasses and a trucker hat with Skagway Brewery logos on them.

We walked around Skagway some and Danielle bought a Christmas ornament, but we were super tired so we headed back to the ship a little earlier than we had to. Not much earlier, but a little bit. The boat left the dock at 5pm and the next time we were going to be on dry land was… 7pm TWO DAYS LATER!!!!!!


At fucking sea, again.

For 48 hours, we didn’t step foot on dry land and that’s fucking intense and I wouldn’t recommend it.

This day at sea at least wasn’t met with me being sea sick, but I was certainly SICK OF THE FUCKING SEA. We had left Alaska and we were going to make a brief stop in Victoria, British Colombia, Canada and then we would be back in Seattle the day after. So, for the most part, the only thing that was left for us to sit through were THREE MORE FUCKING NIGHTS OF SHIT SLEEP ON THIS FUCKING CRUISE SHIP. THAT’S INSANE!!!!

We ended up watching Game of Thrones and Veep the night before and we had decided to not eat dinner in the main dining room because we ate a big late lunch in Skagway. But with this day at sea, Danielle and I did get dressed up again and head to the Grand Epernay dining room for the second “formal night”.

As for our day at sea, it was a waste of time. We walked around the boat just looking at shit and sitting for a time and then getting up and walking somewhere else. Everyone on the ship had lost their luster. Everyone looked bored and over this. The insanity at the bars had died down and it was a lot quieter everywhere. We honestly didn’t even see that many people where ever we went on the boat. It was as if everyone was asleep or they got left in Skagway.

The formal night dining experience did end up with Danielle and I eating with our tablemates R & P again. And we talked about our excursions and I think we talked about Ambien again. P hadn’t been on a cruise before I think, but R was a big cruiser and she kept saying how great this cruise was – the food, the entertainment, the amenities – which really put the nail in the coffin of me ever going on a different cruise. The food was whatever. The entertainment sucked. The amenities? What amenities?! A functioning toilet? All the Purell I could ever dream of?! Because that’s really all we got.

Day 6 was forgettable and so was…


The day itself was forgettable. We did what we did the day before as far as walking around the boat and trying to entertain ourselves by people watching, but that’s all I really remember of that day.

As far as the night, we eventually docked at like 6pm and it was a fucking clusterfuck to get off the boat. There was a line that went through the entire ship to get people off the boat. That was really the only time I saw some different people and I wasn’t thankful for it.

But we got off the boat in Victoria, so we could catch dinner with another couple who I’ve only ever known online. The guy is another MMA/UFC writer who I’ve talked quite a lot with online, but have never met in person and the girl is his very nice wife who is a nurse in her own right. They took us out for dinner and we stuffed ourselves with poutine on French fries and meat sandwiches and several beers.

We got to stretch our legs, I got to talk some cagefighting, and we got to tell some of our horror stories from the boat outloud and proud.

It was too bad we were only there for a couple of hours, so we grabbed dinner and that’s about it. They drove us around Victoria a little bit, which seemed lovely. They’ve got Christmas lights on their capital building year round I believe.

And then we had to get back on the fucking boat!

We went back to our cabin and crashed, so that we could get up at 6am the next day…



The boat docked at 7am and we got off the boat at some point after that and it took us forever to get a cab because these people are fucking idiots. I don’t know who was “in charge” of the cab line, but they were the absolute worst people to be in charge of it. Anyway… first world problems.

As for a brief overview of our time in Seattle, which we spent the weekend in…

We met some more online people who were excellent people and we got beer with them and pizza and we went to a baseball game with them…

We went to Pike’s market and ate at a great luncheonette kind of place called THREE GIRLS BAKERY. And we ate donuts and we walked around smelling flowers and we went to the Space Needle and at the Space Needle there is the Chihuly “Garden and Glass” art exhibit, which was fucking fantastic…

That’s all blown glass. And there are several more rooms of enormous blown glass sculptures and then there’s a bunch of it outside as well and they’re all fucking nuts. It’s all so stupidly over the top impressive that you’re just like … well, this Chihuly guy is simply better than me.

Danielle even humored me that evening and went to a bar in Seattle to watch the UFC 174 pay-per-view.

We had a nice lowkey weekend in Seattle as Danielle and I tried to recover from our new found dizzy spells from being on the boat and we caught a cold on this trip, so we were both runny nose sick in Seattle.

And we eventual flew back to New Jersey and we got to see Coco for the first time in 11 days and I nearly cried when I saw her.

In conclusion…


If you like cruises, if you can stand being on them and enjoy them, then take an Alaskan cruise.

From what I heard from other cruisers, this was a great cruise in comparison to other cruises. Alaska is fucking great and the cruise was apparently great to cruise goers, so it’s a no-brainer to take an Alaskan cruise if you like cruising.

If you don’t like cruises then figure out a plane flight to get there. Fly to Seattle or Victoria or Vancouver or where ever and fly up to Alaska or fly straight to Alaska. It’s worth it. We didn’t get to see Anchorage and Fairbanks and a bunch of other stuff and I wouldn’t mind going back there at all to do more in Alaska. And, the excursions are available to people who aren’t from a cruise boat. Anyone can do these excursions that we did with or without the stupid cruise.


Going to Alaska made me understand Sarah Palin even less.

I know I only went to three towns in Alaska and I didn’t talk a whole hell of a lot to any of the Alaskans, but from what I could see and what I heard – those people were not Palin people. Those people didn’t even seem to be Republican. They seemed to be nature people. They seemed to be hippie people almost. Everything up there was gluten free or organic this and so on and so forth. I can’t imagine that those tree lovers were at all comfortably represented by the “Barracuda” who was shown once shooting wolves with high powered rifles from a helicopter. I’m pretty sure Palin was an outlier in that world.

If I had to make a real guess as to where Palin comes from… she’s the only one who really wanted it.

The people that we came across, they weren’t up in Alaska by accident. They removed themselves from the context of a typical American society to live amongst the trees and the animals out there in Alaska. The idea that one of them would be enticed to want to be apart of the Washington D.C. political machine would be wildly out of character for the people that we met or saw. I feel like Palin was one of the very few with political aspirations in that area and more so political aspirations to be anything but an Alaskan resident.

Palin is a celebrity. And that’s what her goal was. That’s a lot of politicians’ goals to be a public figure. This is my opinion, but I think if you’re in Alaska – generally you’re not vying to be a public figure and Palin was one of the very few that was. So, she had the ambition to do something that most of the people in that area don’t have or want.

I don’t care enough to look at what Alaska’s voter turnout is. I don’t care enough because Palin didn’t care enough to even be the governor for her full term. If she doesn’t care then I certainly don’t care to investigate this much further. But I feel like voter turnout can’t be great, just like America’s turnout as a whole isn’t great. And in that, if you want to be a politician in Alaska it’s probably pretty fucking easy to be one because no one else wants to be one. Everyone else is too busy hiking and eating smoked salmon.

Also, I mean Palin was elected in a midterm year… zing!


I’m done.

I loved Alaska. I found the place to be gorgeous. I found the people to be friendly and proud of their state and their beautiful world they live in a quiet and enviable way. I also found it to be a place people sought out instead of ended up. It’s also expensive. Everything has to be shipped up there for the most part, so food wasn’t cheap in Alaska.

I’d recommend it through and through and I’m very happy I went. It was definitely a place I always thought of going and thought I would end up there much later in life. Now, I’m turning 31 in a week and I’ve been to two glaciers in my life and would’ve never expected it to be that way.

Thanks for reading.

I love you.

Hello! Again! My friend(s)!

Yesterday’s post talked about Day 1 and Day 2 of being on the cruise ship, which was a lot of sitting around either drunk or sea sick while looking and judging all the other idiots on the big boat who also looked either bored, drunk, and/or sea sick.

Before I get into Day 3 and so on and so forth, I would also like to mention the RUSSIAN FAMILY.


How have I not mentioned the Russian family? Well, because I didn’t. I was too busy writing a bunch of other things and I just left them out, but today – is the day – I will talk about the RUSSIAN FAMILY(!!!!!).

First, I don’t have a picture of the Russian family. I’m sorry. I wish I did. But… alas… no.

The cruise ship supposedly has 2800 – TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHT HUNDRED – guests on it. So, there was me and Danielle and 2798 OTHER FUCKING PEOPLE. But, you never saw 2798 people on the boat. You more or less saw about 100 people on the boat and you would see that same 100 or even 50 or maybe even 22 people over and over and over and over again. Where were the rest of the people on the boat? I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE! Were they all myths? Were they all figments of our imagination? Was it like some ghost community that never really existed at all like Shutter Island? Is that what Shutter Island was about? I didn’t see it. It looked terrible in trailers, but that’s what I guessed. I don’t know.

You kept seeing the same people over and over again as if you were cosmically aligned together and drawn to the same areas of the boat at the same time or to the same excursions in the same cities because you really just didn’t see THAT much diversity. With 2800 people on the boat, where were the rest of those people hiding? The spa? Their staterooms? Were they eating 3 meals a day in the specialty restaurants? I DON’T KNOW!

But I digress… THE RUSSIAN FAMILY. So, one of the groups that Danielle and I saw every day without fail – sometimes multiple times a day – was a Russian father, mother, and daughter. The father was the most boring – or maybe the most alluring who knows – because he never talked, always wore his expensive camera around his neck, his outfits would range from Clark Griswold to a fucking tuxedo, and his face was frozen with one slightly terrifying stern emotion. The mother consistently wore no bra, spaghetti strap tank tops, hair in a pony tail, and doted after her daughter like she was her personal assistant. The daughter had long platinum blonde hair that Daenerys Targaryen would kill for, she weighed about two pounds, smoked cigarettes, and walked around like she was a minor Russian celebrity. And on formal night, the dad in the tux and the daughter and the mother in the glitteriest motherfucking ball gowns EVER.

So, we used to see them all the time as well as the Tall family (husband, wife, daughter, two sons – all over 6 feet and all looked like J. Crew models) and young Asian couple (they seemed perfectly normal until you noticed the guy’s shoes were like these half-boots from a 1980’s movie about the future). We saw these two groups even in Seattle in a restaurant and a baseball game respectively when we got off the damn boat. WE’RE BEING FOLLOWED!




Ketchikan was the first sleepy Alaskan town that we visited. What you realize when you’re in Alaska or at least in these coast towns, if you keep your eyes level to what’s in front of you it’s kind of just a sleepy town with tourist shops and whatever and you’re like “I flew from ____ and took a cruise ship to get here?” and then you look your dumbass eyes up and you see…

Fucking mountains and trees and shit and it’s beautiful.

We got off the boat in Ketchikan and walked around the dock and walked around the town and just really walked around where the Earth wasn’t tilting back and forth because you’re not on a damn boat anymore, but there’s a catch…


It’s like you’ve been brainwashed that dry, unshaky land doesn’t exist. You feel like the Earth underneath you is moving. Like the tectonic plates have suddenly started going in hyperdrive and now the world is more or less a rocky slip and slide. It’s fucking weird and I hate cruises.

Anyway, we walked around the town and then we found our excursion people – which I’ve gotten into the use of the word “excursion” for meaning “doing shit”. Oh, I’m going to take an excursion to the grocery store. I’m going for an afternoon excursion of walking my dog around the block. Me? I’m going to take an excursion right now and take the garbage outside to the curb. EXCURSIONS! Literally, “excursion” is you moving your ass when you’re not on the fucking boat. So, we found our excursion people, they put us on a bus because excursions fucking love the fuck out of busses, and we drove maybe two blocks and they dropped us off at the adjacent dock, so we could do this…


We got paired up with two other couples – one which was an old Scottish man whose shoulder you can see in the picture and his old Scottish wife who the pilot more or less stuck jammed into the back of the plan in the First Aid kit box, and the other couple were a middle-aged white couple from some unknown foreign country to America where they speak English as a third language or the wife was Yoda because she spoke like this, “The plane, fly? How high up the plane go? Gas for plane, need it how much?” And you’re like, is she having a stroke? You’re not allowed on planes if you’re currently having a stroke, right?

We get into the plane and the plane takes off from the water, which was actually quite smooth. I’ve never been in a little 7 seater plane before, but I was expecting some herky jerky kind of movements and instead there was really none of that. It gave me the same feeling as being on a big jet plane and had actually a lot smoother take off. I didn’t even realize we were in the air and not still skimming across the water for a few seconds.

The plane tour was like 45 minutes I think. It was amazing. I can’t overstate how much everyone should go on a floatplane tour through Alaska. It fucking rocks. The views are insane. It’s just gorgeous out there. Also, it’s not all snow out there. Along the coast, it’s more like Seattle or Northern Oregon out there where it’s rain fall and not snow fall, so everything is green and lush. Sure they’re snowcapped mountains too and glaciers and all that, but it’s these vibrant trees more than anything and rivers and lakes and just water.

Another thing that was special or at least special for me, soon as we get on the plane you put on these headsets so the pilot can talk to you and it also muffles the sound of the plane as well. The pilot throws on this mix of music and tour guide-y prompts about where we’re flying. The first song that starts playing right as we’re lifting off the water is The Marshall Tucker Band’s classic “Can’t You See”. First off, excellent song. Second off, I saw them play in concert a little while ago on a random night and read way too much about them and they became an esoteric obsession of mine and Brew Dawgz who also was at the concert, so it was just hilarious hearing that song.


The floatplane was great. The pilot flies us around and he even lands the plane in a stretch of water like in that picture above and we get out of the plane and stand on the float/skis or whatever and just fucking have a moment staring at Alaska that was around us… just fucking breathe and have a fucking moment.

And… to INSTAGRAM!!!!!


After that, the pilot took us back into the air for the rest of the tour and back to the docks eventually.

We got back into town and went to a bar called Asylum where we drank some Alaskan beers and ate some burgers and fries from this shack next door called “Burger Queen”, which hand-delivered your food order in a brown bag like they were dropping off your school lunch. And the burgers were great. Honestly, the burger was fucking fantastic compared to the bland food we were eating for two days straight on that damn boat. THROW SOME SALT AND PEPPER ON THIS SHIT ALREADY. Anyway, Burger Queen was great and Alaska has some really nice breweries. One brewery is literally called Alaskan Brewing Company, which Danielle was quite partial to their white beer which has a picture of a polar bear on it. Their Summer beer is also quite nice – I believe that has an orca, killer whale, or blackfish on it.


Yep. Sooner or later, you have to get back on that fucking boat. For a minute, you think to yourself, I could restart my life in Ketchikan. At least for a little while. I could work at one of these bars or I could make some type of craft and say it’s made in Alaska and sell it to some doe-eyed tourist coming off a boat like I just did 6 hours ago. It could work out. I could get used to eating salmon 4x a week. Smoked salmon? Sure. I could get used to eating smoked salmon 6x a week during the Winter. I’ll do anything not to get back on that crap shoot boat.

But you get back on it. And, you go back to the fucking Grand Epernay dining room for another evening of bland dinner being served to you by the same group of waiters who are getting awfully friendly. And sure, I’ll stare at the same group of idiots who are sitting at the table on the otherside of Danielle. There’s the 80 year old couple who don’t talk and just stare out the window and next to them is the mid-30’s couple where the husband sits and smolders and the wife sits as still as a statue and once every 5 minutes fixes a strand of her hair to make sure it’s as flat-ironed straight as the rest of her hair. And sure, I’ll over hear the same conversation from the table behind me where the overbearing couple from Texas will not shut the fuck up about any stupid fucking thought that comes into their stupid fucking Texas brain.

RIGHT?! That’s something I forgot to mention about Alaskan cruises…


Yep. If Alaska is per say the Lord of the Rings trilogy then Texans are the orcs or the not-so-subtle homosexual undertones that just seem to appear in every other fucking scene. It’s like we get it! Tolkien liked a man’s warm embrace and orcs are always on the attack. Ok? Sure. I get it. Texans are loud and they come to Alaska because they want to be loud in Alaska. There were Texans yelling everyday at people WE’RE BIGGER about Alaska. We’re bigger? First off, you’re not. Alaska is 3x the size of your state. Texas is the biggest continental, lower 48 state by far, but Alaska is like the whole of Europe sitting to the NW of Canada. Either way, that’s what they would yell and they did it a lot and there was absolutely no reason for it besides people from Texas have Tourette’s.


And we’re up and the fucking crack of fucking dawn because of two things…

1. Danielle signed us up for an EXCURSION that meant we had to get off the boat at 7am.

2. A cruise ship docking or undocking IS THE LOUDEST AND MOST CONFUSING HOUR OF NOISES EVER!

From our room, it sounded like our boat was launching torpedoes at another cruise ship, while taking incoming torpedo fire from that same cruise ship. It was nuts. Just ZOOOOOPP!!! and WAAAAHHHHHNNNN-KLUMP!!!! Back and forth for like a fucking hour. It’s insane. What part of the boat makes the ZOOOOOPPPP and WAAAAAAHHHNNNN-KLUMP noise because it’s right outside the fucking 6th floor bedrooms near the front of the God damn boat.

The excursion did allow us to see this…

That’s Sawyer glacier.

We got off the big boat and got on a little boat, so we could go up this one “arm” or river basically and get an up-close look at this glacier as well as a waterfall and some just beautiful scenery. Honestly, I enjoyed every fucking second I was off the cruise ship. Even being on another boat was sweet mercy to the purgatory like status I felt being on that cruise ship.

We got to be outside on this small boat with wind in our face and we didn’t have to hear Rhianna playing over some PA system or see some fake friendly wait staff person or any of that. IT WAS FREEDOM!!!!

We didn’t get any pictures because those fuckers move too fast, but we saw several killer whales. That was a thrill. I mean we weren’t signed up for whale watching, but we saw several. We saw a few of the killer whales swimming around and two smaller ones – bulls? I think… – kind of playing and chasing each other. And we saw a humpback to the tail thing where that comes out of the water like a big Y. That was cool as well.

And we rode on that boat for like 5 hours, which is nuts.

It was beautiful and freeing and we eventually made our way back to where the cruise ship was going, which was the state capital of Alaska – JUNEAU.

And Juneau has it’s own dog statue at the dock commemorating this mythical dog named Patsy Ann … http://www.patsyann.com/story/index.htm

One really interesting thing about Juneau, YOU CAN’T ACCESS IT BY ROADS. The fucking state capital of Alaska cannot be driven to. You have to take a plane or a boat to get to the capital. That’s fucking crazy.

Juneau was similar to Ketchikan with the sleepy town feel with tourist shops filling the docks and beautiful mountains filled with trees overlooking everything. We eventually ate dinner in Juneau at this crab shack called Tracy’s Crab Shake by the pier where we or mostly I ate crab bisque, coconut crab cakes, crab pops which were a basket of smaller crab claws, Alaskan king crab leg, a bunch of beers, and several buttery rolls. I ate myself sick and loved every second of it…

We did do a second excursion while we were in Juneau.

So, we did the boat thing and then we went back to the cruise ship for lunch because it was free in the sense we already had paid for it and then we went back to our stateroom to lay down for like 30 minutes and go to the bath room in private and then we got ourselves together to get back off the boat and back on another bus, so we could…





We pretty much signed up for an excursion that cost like $300 to play with dogs or really just be around a bunch of dogs for 40 minutes. Yep. THAT’S THE TYPE OF SHIT YOU DO WHEN YOU’RE STUCK ON A FUCKING CRUISE BOAT!!! For that amount of money, we should’ve gotten that fucking dog. $300? It’s crazy. If anybody ever asks Danielle and I to donate money to Alaska, I’ll say we did because we did 4 excursions in Alaska and all told it was like $1500, so back the fuck off Alaska – I love you, but you already got our moneyzzzz.

Back to the doggies, we went to a “musher’s camp”. Remember sled dogs and the Iditarod? Well, we met doggies like that and met people like that and I now know more about the Iditarod than I have any reason to ever. How long is the Iditarod? 1,100 miles. Is the Iditarod the same race every year? Yes and no. There are two races and on even years they go one way and on odd years they go the other way. It’s really that there is a stretch in the middle of the race where they go North or South depending on the year to go around what is a stretch that they cannot pace and then meet up on the other side to do the rest of the run. How many dogs? 16 per person. Can you exchange dogs in and out like tires in Nascar at the check points? Nope. When do they run? At night. When do they sleep? During the day.


We got pulled by the dogs on a path through the woods on a golf cart, which was pretty hilarious. The dogs love to run, so when they see the tourists coming off the buses and getting on the golf carts – the dogs go ape shit. They all start barking and howling like you’re being led to the gates of Hell to be tortured to death forever and ever, but really they’re super excited to get pull your stupid ass through this trail.

As mentioned, the Iditarod is 1,100 miles. The first person who completed the Iditarod did it in 20 days. That’s 55 miles a day. That’s a lot, right? That’s a lot of miles for a doggie to run, right? How does a doggie even get the chance to do that because you’re too busy cuddling with the doggies every 5 minutes, right? Anyway… do you know how fast they’re running the Iditarod now…


Actually, less. The world record is like 8 days and 19 hours or something. For 9 days, that’s 122 miles a day for those puppie wuppie doggie babies. You know! THAT’S NUTS, right?!

That dog I was petting in the first pic is named Bass and is a retired Iditarod runner. I forgot how many times Bass ran the Iditarod, but it was several times. That’s fucking crazeballs.

We pet the dogs. We got back onto the bus. We ate at that crab shack. We got back onto the boat. I exploded in the bathroom. And then came an insane moment of stress…

Sailing away from Juneau it was Monday night. While at port, your American phone works. You can check your emails and all that. But, I needed more. What I needed was the latest episode of GAME OF THRONES and VEEP. We didn’t have time to watch them on HBOGo because we were leaving the dock in less than an hour and your phone switches to cellular at sea if you have that when you’re 12 miles from the port or at least that’s what AT&T’s website says. It feels like it’s 2 miles, but whatever. So, I decided to get wild and I turned my phone into a mobile hotspot and was going to download the episodes onto the laptop I brought.

That was fucking tense fucking shit. I’m torrenting these and watching the percentage like “75% done, 76% done, 77% done… 78% done!” as the boat is making those crazy torpedo noises and we’re starting to pull away from the dock. And, it was stressful and it was successful.

I got both episodes fucking downloaded and right as they’re finished(!)… It’s like 11:30pm and we have to be up and out of the boat by 7am in Skagway the next and we’re fucking tired, so we’re going to sleep.

That’s right. Asleep by midnight.

There are nightclubs on the cruise ship that close at 2am and others that list their closing time as “LATE” which must mean like 4am and there are casino games 24 hours a day, but the two 30 year olds were in bed and fucking tuckered out each night by midnight or so and we never saw any of the onboat nightclubs in action. One club was called Quasar and here’s a picture of me during the day at like 10am just looking dead sexy serious hanging out there when it was closed…

You’re welcome.

That’s the end of Days 3 and 4.

Tomorrow – I’ll talk to you about our last day in Alaska and the rest of the trip returning to Seattle and I guess some about Seattle.

They put cream cheese on hot dogs in Seattle.

Not joking.

I love you.


Or as the people of Alaska say it…


So, today, IS the DAY that I talk ABOUT…


To layout it out for you, Danielle – the fiance – and I took a Celebrity cruise on their Solstice ship to Alaska. We started in Seattle, Washington and then sailed out to three different towns in Alaska then sailed back to Victoria, BC, Canada and, finally, back to Seattle. I’m going to do this in installments because I have a lot of shit to say or jokes or asides, so I’ll roll this out in three segments.

This was both of our first cruise experience. And, seemingly, our last. Hopefully, our last. I’m not going to deny that there outside forces in the world that could somehow lure us back on a cruise. Those outside forces could be a maniac with a gun that shoots radioactive spiders, for one. Another force could be a legit bored out of his or her mind billionaire who gives each Danielle and I millions of dollars to do another cruise again. Honestly, that sounds more like a “him” billionaire than a “her” billionaire. I just don’t see a woman billionaire getting THAT bored, you know. Either way… those are two scenarios that I could see us getting back onto a cruise boat for. Outside of those type of scenarios, I don’t see us venturing anywhere near the cruise docks in this lifetime or the next.

Going on cruises aka “cruising” – not the 1980 psychological thriller starring Al Pacino about catching a serial killer plaguing the underground gay S&M scene in New York City… and strangely actual “cruising” is more perverse than this movie – is really only for some people just like those leather bars I just mentioned. Some people like to cruise and generally those people continue to cruise and cruise and cruise and would cruise to the fucking grocery store if they could.

But if you’re not a “cruiser” then you’re just not a cruiser.

Cruising is a very particular way to travel. Living on a boat for a week is a very particular way to travel, obviously. Eating meal after meal on this boat. Sleeping on this boat. Getting drunk on this boat. Going to see “entertaining” shows on this boat. Swimming in a pool on this boat. And all the while, this boat is dressed up like an Atlantic City casino hotel. Because that’s exactly what it is… a floating Atlantic City hotel that is more like a prison because you do not get to pick and choose when you do the things you want to do – this boat chooses for you!

Danielle and I didn’t just stick our toe in the shallow end – no, we jumped headfirst into the deep end of this gay S&M Atlantic City floating hotel of “cruising” and we gave it a shot. It wasn’t all bad because…


Ok… let’s get the fuck into this already shall we?


The idea of going on this cruise kind of came out of nowhere. And, while we were both very wary of the whole thing – we kind of were like, “They’re not going to kill us, so that’s really all we have to fear, right?” So, we decided to do a cruise. To try it out. Almost to see what the big deal was with this odd subculture and also get to see the 49th state.

Standing in line on the docks in Seattle amongst the people who would fill up this giant 3000 person boat with us, it dawned on Danielle and I that we very well might be the sexiest fucking people boarding the damn boat. And, not necessarily because of our sexiness, but more so from the dearth of sexiness that everyone else was bringing with them onto the boat.

Sure, there were a few people here and there that were attractive, but it was very far and few between with I would guess the mean age being 67. There were people standing in line that I wasn’t 100% confident would live long enough to actual get on the boat. Thankfully, no medical emergencies arrived and we did end up on the ginormous boat after a couple of hours of checking in.

Once on the boat, the place looks and feels like an Atlantic City hotel casino. Or really any hotel casino, but there’s the nuvo whatever that AC has that is also slightly compact. I wouldn’t say Las Vegas just because Las Vegas is a wasteland, so those hotels could take up as much space as they want and they’re pretty much their on cities at this point. AC casinos are more like a small town, so that’s why I keep saying AC. It’s not just because I’m from Jersey.

With a drink package paid before, what else is there to do besides – drink? And by drink, I mean alcohol. There could be a rogue Amish person reading this blog that I’m trying to make understand, but whatever. Anyway! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! Yes, drinking is really the only to do because drinking a Jack Daniels and Coke costs just as much as drinking a Coke without Jack Daniels when you’ve got a drink package because in the world of this cruise boat soda is as precious a commodity as alcohol. So, why not drink? Why not add champagne to that orange juice? Why even have the orange juice? Why not drink red wine from the moment you arise to the moment you pass on an armchair in the third floor lobby with Shakira blaring and your purple teethed mouth hanging wide open? WHY NOT?!

So, we drank. We drank quite a bit. Or at least I did on the first “day” on the boat. We got on the boat around 4pm and from then until bed, I drank. And, I didn’t think too much about it. Part of the reason I was doing it was because of the above mentioned price and part of the reason I was doing it was because there is little else to do on the boat outside of just contemplatively stare out a window or I guess read or sleep. Another thing, I was quite nervous about being on this boat for a week because… I GET SEA SICK.

Why do a cruise then? Because fuck the world – that’s why! Right? I can master sea sickness. Fuck, the sea. You think you’re better than me, sea? CAUSE YOU’RE FUCKING NOT! And, spoiler alert, I did “master” sea sickness. I did get used to do the boat and didn’t feel sea sick for the majority of the trip and all that. BUT! I did feel sea sick one day. But I’m jumping ahead and not. What I wanted to mention is that, yes, I’ve been sea sick before. I was sea sick on a fishing boat during a bachelor party. I didn’t throw up, but I felt like I was going to and I was quite woozy. But what I’m learning about my problems with the sea come from being motherfucking hungover or sick drunk. I had been partying for 3 days straight by the time we went on the fishing boat and, as mentioned, I drank a bunch the first day of the cruise. I’m not the best on boats as it’s few and far between when I’m on them, so it takes me awhile to accustom myself and I might get a little queasy, woozy on the boat in the beginning and this gets far far far worse when I’m hungover.

Nevertheless… the first day. We drank. We saw our “stateroom” in the boat, which was like a little camper motorhome kind of room with a veranda. There were 4 channels of TV to watch FOX News, TBS, TNT, and Cartoon Network. And, as far as on boat entertainment, what was provided by the boat was a variety of stage shows for people who have never seen actually good stage shows of any sort or spending an obscene amount of money on anything that was at the onboard spa. So, Danielle and I did go to a show, which we regretted immediately and we ate some food on the boat and Danielle had ice cream moments being on the boat because why not – it’s there.

Eventually, dinner came and Danielle and I got all dressed up to go to the Grand Epernay dining room where the majority of the boat eats dinner. You can go to one of the specialty dining restaurants on board which cost an arm and a leg out of pocket, you can go to the casual buffet which is where you eat every other meal, or you can send for room service which was more or less snacking on grilled hot dogs and salad in your bed. So, we chose to do the big dinner cruise experience where they assign you a table and you are placed with other randoms on the cruise at a table for you to make awkward small talk with them.

Thankfully, the first night on the boat – none of the other people showed up.

Danielle and I had our table to ourselves. A four person table pressed up against another four person table and the rest of the 6 seats remained empty as Danielle and I ate our meal while we people watched and talked shit on the rest of the weirdos on the boat. As for the food, it was ok. I was never “satisfied” by anything I ate on the boat for the most part. I just found it all kind of bland. I ate lobster on the boat and it was meh. I ate steak on the boat and it was meh. I ate salmon, lamb, cheesecake, and even a spinach salad and it was all passable, but not enjoyable. The only things on the boat I would recommend were the peanut butter cookies and the chocolate cookies with the white chocolate chips. I wouldn’t recommend their straight up chocolate chip cookies because those sucked. The only thing I consistently enjoyed were the two cookies mentioned… and champagne.


Sleeping on the boat isn’t easy.

The boat does not stop moving… ever. It’s always rocking. It’s always swaying. Day 2 was one of our TWO days at sea. So, all of day 2 we would never step foot on never rocking dry land. And, I woke up – sea sick.

I had the sea bands on my wrists from the moment I got on the boat to the moment I got off, but that morning they weren’t helping unless what they were doing was preventing me from just throwing up until I collapsed exhausted forever. I took Dramamine, but that didn’t help or at least didn’t help right away.

Make matters much much much worse… Danielle saw fit to wake us up at 7… AM!!!!! 

Being out at sea means that you put your phone to airplane mode or you just turn it off entirely. When you’re on the high seas, your phone will switch over to “cellular at sea” which sucks and costs a fortune. Danielle had her work phone, so we could leave that on because we weren’t footing the bill, but as mentioned that cellular at sea sucks – the phone’s time read the time was Sydney, Australia time and not just west of Seattle time. Why? Well, the boat was from Sydney originally, but who the fuck knows how these invisible lines of communication work. Either way, Danielle looked at her phone and it said that it was 12pm, but it was really 7am, so she freaked out a little that we were sleeping our way through our cruise… which honestly is probably the best thing to do.

So there we were, up and out of the room about as early as I could possibly imagine us ever waking up to do anything ever and I’m hungover, I’ve gotten very little sleep because we are perpetual night owls, and I’m on a fucking rocking cruise boat – literally ROCKING.

Danielle and I then toured the boat trying to find the best place for me to sit and try not to throw up all over myself. The stateroom was a no go because it rocked a lot and I didn’t feel comfortable in there then it was the 3rd floor lobby bar where we were treated to a waltz dance class. Yes, a dance class took place in the middle of the boat for all to see right by the elevators that went from that floor all the way up to the 15th floor. So, we watched a bunch of old people learn how to waltz.

Jordan, do you know how to waltz? Actually, I do. Strangely enough, I was forced into dance classes for 3 years of my life. They weren’t full years of dancing, but once a week for a season or so I would go to dance class. Like tap dancing? No. Like waltz and lindy hop or whatever. Do I remember the moves? Some. Did you have to dress up for dance class? Yes, sports coat and khakis and a tie. There you go, America! That’s a white NJ suburban life for you – Wednesday night dance classes at the private tennis club. YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY!

Finally, Danielle and I did find that if I sat at the outdoor bar on the 14th floor at the back of the boat that I was pretty good. Eventually, the hangover went away and my body got used to not getting sleep for the night and I started to settle into the life at sea. It was enjoyable sitting at the back of the boat at this outdoor bar on a couch with my fiance and we both just stared at the water as she listened to whatever she was listening to and I listened to episodes of Marc Maron’s WTF podcast that I had downloaded back when we were on dry land and had the motherfucking internet. That was enjoyable.

Day at sea nights were also “formal night”.

That night, Danielle got a little fancy and I got a little fancy and we went back to the Epernay dining room where we were surrounded by people who took the “little fancy” to mean TUXEDOS and BALL GOWNS. Seriously! On a fucking cruise in a ball gown and a tuxedo. It’s the fucking Celebrity Solstice and not the Titanic thank God, but you couldn’t tell that to these idiots. But I’m forgetting something…


Or at least this Alaskan cruise…

It became so commonplace for us to hear or see a man or woman who was old enough to be our parents just being shit-house wasted. Just wooing for alcohol. Literally, WOOOOOOO!!!!!! my martinis (yes, plural) just arrived. Maybe their inner-ear balance died back when they turned 50 over 10 years earlier or what have you, but they were comfortable on the boat rocking and them just getting freshman year of college drunk. So, if you own a tux – why not bring it and wear it because you’re fucking living the dream being young and wild on this stupid boat.

Maybe I’m a curmudgeon. Whatever.

We go to dinner and low and behold our tablemates(!) were there.

I’ll use their initials of P & R because why not. Patricia and Roxy? Anyway, P & R were there and they were nice and we talked, we talked mostly about dogs, which was great. They were also older than Danielle and I’s parents. Also, R was on the cruise only 2 months following her divorce and P had issues of her own. Honestly, it would have been better for the both of us if a couple more like ourselves were there in the other’s spot. I’m sure P & R felt weird being on the other end of their long marriages and sitting next to a couple of kids who are just getting ready to start theirs. Two very different places in our lives separated by 40 years of life. So, we both weren’t each others ideal company.

But we talked of dogs, we talked of Ambien – a surprisingly good conversation piece – and probably some other stuff.

At some point, Danielle and I returned to our room to try and get some much needed sleep from a long day while watching “Due Date” turned into a PG-13 neutered version of itself.

Thus ends, PART I of III, of Danielle and I’s cruise to Alaska. Tomorrow, I’ll talk about us actually arriving in ALASKA!!!!!

As a little teaser… it involves this…

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