Been there.. done that..

Upon request:  The penultimate blog.

(Thanks for asking.  You know who you are)

I'm writing this only because I have an hour to kill before our final excursion--touring Victoria, British Columbia, AT NIGHT..when it's DARK, but I couldn't resist blogging now, instead of after the tour,  mostly because of how much I like the word penultimate.

Jim has a favorite phrase, "decisions and outcomes" which means you make a decision based on information you have at hand, but the outcome may not be a desired one.

We made the decision last night  to forgo the last chance to see the Beatles Experience(which we did anyway, lasting a quarter way through "Octopus's Garden" before being kicked out for blocking the view of those who showed up early for unobscured viewing)  and the outcome was.. not a desired one.

Because we made the decision to sit in the Atrium and watch a lot of drunken guests laugh at things those only drunks find funny.

Games like "Battle of the Sexes" (hint:  It's not an intellectual showdown that Stephen Hawking and Ruth Bader Ginsberg are duking out from above) but games like switching t-shirts with the person next to you, or shoving a lemon up your significant other's pants and forcing it to travel to the other side.  (A guy wore shorts, which gave him an unfair advantage, and we all thought his wife would have to force a pineapple up him--hah!..the "joke's" on us!--but he was forced to try this humiliating "game" multiple times.

One game forced a female to dress as a male and a male to dress as a female using donations from the audience, and using a "dressing room" fashioned out of bed sheets and a hula hoop.

The game was dumb as a post..as dumb as THIS post, but not as bad as the one where wives sat in a chair, draped in a towel, holding a glass tumbler between their spread legs, as  their blind-folded husbands had to fill the tumblers with a water bottle that they'd blindly squirt, and because the audience was made up of drunken four years olds, they laughed  at this simulated urination act, and laughed harder when the contestant squirted his wife all over her face and she smirked, "been there..done that."

I'm just as idiotic as the audience members, because I'm sharing this story.

These shenanigans followed a lovely dinner with Dee.  

What are the odds that I'd meet someone who had the same English teacher as me on a cruise with three thousand passengers?

What are the odds that I'm self-conscious now, thinking, is it "the same teacher as me" or "the same teacher as I?"

I forget that one every so often.

Today was a re-BOOT!!

After giving Jim a hard time about seeing "Kinky Boots" again, since we saw a good chunk of it the other night before technical difficulties cancelled the show, we made a decision with a wonderful outcome.  (or..Jim made the decision)

No giant totem head was obscuring my view, the cockney accent wasn't so cockney closer up, and most important, we were not asleep when we watched it.

It got a lot of well earned love on Broadway!

Today at lunch, I heard someone say, "I had matzah ball soup last night..you know..the kind they usually serve Jews."

So I won't miss EVERYTHING about this cruise, but I'll certainly miss a lot.

Like high thread counts of sheets, and a mattress that feels like a cloud, and a handsome man who makes the bed twice a day without having o brush away Luke's lethal  biscuit crumbs.

I'll miss being rocked  to sleep and pampered, and eating like gluttonous royalty, where every meal is a feast, and I'll miss beautiful glaciers and watching whales breach, and crowded elevators and unintelligle messages coming over the PA system.

I'll miss making Jim laugh every second we're awake(and vice versa) and I'll miss hearing "Kinky Boots" songs as an earworm.

I'll miss Jim taking a selfie with a  stuffed bear that looked like the bear was having his way with him.

I'll miss hearing phrases like "washy-washy" and I'll miss scary gondolas.

I'll miss the familiar faces who smile at me daily, and the rude  hogs who think they own a lounge chair on the observation deck for life because they got up at 4:00 AM.

I'll miss the picturesque towns  and fishing meccas of Alaska, and games like identifying celebs from their childhood photos, where I couldn't tell Owen Wilson apart from Steven Spielberg, nor Cameron Diaz apart from Adele, and golly..why did Jonah Hill have to look so much like a young Jack Black?  

Didn't he realize I wanted..needed..another mousetrap?

I will be back for one last update as I plan to share many of Victoria's secrets, and there I go again with the forced jokes, but I think after a week's worth of blogging, I'm allowed to be  punch drunk stupid in the penultimate.

Thanks for all the comments and "like" clicks.

Someday, someday I'll get over my jealousy that a photo of Jim's corn flakes gets more attention than my travelogues.

But for now..I want to punch that box in its smug little face.