I think it’s time for a tuneup.
You’ve probably heard about the cruise ship from hell by now. A Carnival Cruise funship (okay, I just called it that) had a fire that killed all it’s engines and things that run things and was cast adrift for 4 days. By the time they got it towed in from the Gulf of Mexico, a four day cruise had turned into an eight day nightmare, and then they landed in Mobile, Alabama. (bah dump bump)
It was gross, by all accounts. Nobody who books a holiday deserves this. I am not a cruiser. I never will be. I know, I know, everybody will start yelling, “don’t be such a snob! They’re awesome!”. I don’t care. Then entire idea does not even sound within hollering distance of awesome to me. And that was before reading about 4,000 people stuck for 8 days on a floating outhouse and no Mrs. Howell to share her clothes with people who only brought enough clean undies for a long weekend.
It’s okay. My idea of a cool holiday is probably absolutely nobody’s idea of fun, either. I know this for a fact. When I tell Roz my dream is to go to Easter Island (without a tour company; I want to talk a local into letting me stay with them – I’m tidy when I’m a guest) she looks at me like I have two heads. Or at least one giant one.
Anyway. The woman who wrote that linked Washington Post piece, Monica Hesse, had me laughing my arse off this morning at a line she is getting considerable heat for in the comments. She said that “a cruise is a giant boat full of your mother-in-law”. There. That. I don’t have a mother-in-law, and I’m sure some are perfect. But, yeah, that’s what a cruise is to me. Again, don’t bother smacking me. You won’t change my mind. Remember: I think Easter Island is a hotbed of fun.
On a related note, I’m fed up with the fact that a writer can’t write that without getting yelled at. It’s funny. I got hell in the Globe this week from a commenter for calling an idiot who wiped off his car after that last monster storm by flipping his wiper blades an idiot. I apparently shouldn’t throw that word around, I, as a public figure, have no right to call someone an idiot. When I told Roz, she had only one thing to say: “You’re a public figure?”
I’m trying to think of a better word I could have used. I know a lot of words. Nope. Idiot works. Back off, jelly bellied apologists who want to keep handing the benefit of the doubt to people who might kill you with their idiocy.
I might just use it again.
Oh, and here’s the latest shot of Jimbo, the cat I want to steal from my sister.