The Relation Ship June 14, 2007

At some point on our cruise—I think it was right after the fifth Bingo announcement— we realized we were the only single people. Royal Caribbean christened the ship Majesty of the Seas but I renamed it Relation. Out of over 2500 passengers, and excluding our waiter Rufino, we met exactly four eligible men. We called them Jersey Shore, Georgia, and Trouble. That might appear to be only three men, but Georgia consisted of a pair of dock building brothers from Savannah. They were somewhat interchangeable.

I don’t have a picture of Jersey Shore, but here are Georgia and Trouble.

This is Georgia #1 giving a good ol’ boy pep talk to Georgia #2, either about pier berthing or dancing—not sure.

We missed the Singles mixer by half an hour (I still don’t believe there was one) and found nothing but Trouble in its place. What appeared to be an event nametag was actually pre-made and part of the shirt.

Now, while I have recently set sail on the S.S. Seeing Each Other (no thought as of yet to a lifeboat; also, the S.S. stands for sickeningly sweet), my girlfriends found being on the fami-leeward side of the ship to be frustrating. As fun as it is to say “Here comes Trouble!,” it’s nowhere near as fun as saying “Here comes that hot guy from Deck 12 who bought me Bicardi and Diet at the Blackjack table!”

Ah, Trouble and Georgia, I’m selling you short. It’s just that you didn’t rock our boat. Which is probably a good thing, because it was less testosterone distraction from each other. If it weren’t for girl time, Cami might not have pointed out that we were on a Celebrity Cruise.

Why, here’s me and Megan with Laura Dern! What a Jurrassic attitude.

We were all surprised to find Ms. Dern dating Kurt Russell. Guess he threw Goldie Hawn Overboard.

And check out this Alien sight: Sigourney Weaver chillaxing with Tim Robbins.

Rock of Ages May 30, 2007

In two days, on June 1st, I turn 30. Most of my friends are younger so my turning 30 before them makes up for a string of pubescent disappointments: last to pierce my ears, last to buy a bra, last to get kissed.

In Book 1 of The Prelude, Wordsworth recounts stealing a boat as a young boy and rowing into the night. He is impressionable and paranoid; soon, a menacing black peak appears from behind a smaller crag. His guilt imbues the shore with a sublime power, and terrified, he oars his way back, returns the boat, and later recalls (in a moment of tranquility, of course):

“…after I had seen the spectacle, for many days, my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being; o’er my thoughts
There hung a darkness, call it solitude
Or blank desertion.”

“The spectacle” of 30 is like this mountain. It’s startling but not inherently monstrous. It only looms when you’re afraid of it. Knowing this, I decided that the best way to approach my 30-rock isn’t in a stolen skiff, but on a Royal Caribbean Cruise ship. How can a darkness possibly hang o’er your thoughts when you have access to a casino, a Latin Lounge, and two outdoor pools?

This Saturday, my three best girlfriends and I fly to Miami, otherwise known as “port of call for Majesty of the Seas.” I’ve been preparing by listening to Jimmy Buffet and scouring Brooklyn for cheap couture. My mother has been preparing by offering bi-polar wisdom: praising her 1960’s Bahamavention with her nursing school roommate Margie, and then, in the same breath, updating me on this.

I grew up watching shows like Love Boat and Hotel and Restaurant . Haha I made that last one up, but you catch my drift. Attractive staff + transitory clientele + exotic locale= sex. Everything I know about boats I learned from Captain Steubing. Or Charro. It’s formulaic fun!

I have a new love interest so I’m not concerned with seeing the formula through, but I do want to introduce the four of us, aka next week’s guest stars. I hope to be blogging from the ship. So, in alphabetical order:

CAMI–Greek restaurateur looking to marry a shipping heir, and soon.

HEATHER–Texas teacher long overdue for a vacation.

MEGAN–New York City singer/song-writer ready for her big break.

REBECCA–Broke writer crying out for a paid column.

Message March 28, 2007

RIP Mr. Orange Cluster Head. That’s what our boss named the discount gimp goldfish. He was thrown in the East River (the fish, not our boss) and popular office theory holds that Mr. Orange Cluster Head wasn’t really dead, that he’s revived on brackish water, biding his time in a tire, and getting preternaturally stronger.

I’ve been watching a lot of The Office. I still haven’t bought a new power cord so I can’t blog from home. But I can microwave Amy’s Organic Frozen Dinners and compare my day job to television. For example, yesterday, after an emotionally taxing morning and a little bathroom cry–which Boss asked about in a sympathetic yet intrusive manner–I returned to find this Michael Scott-ish note on my keyboard:

I wasn’t convinced that I needed to do this, really, until the fifth exclaimation mark. Check out that handwriting. It immediately reminded me of the Lindbergh baby ransom note.

And what a word, message. Mess + age. As in: I’ve made a mess of. Yes, please clear it!

I’m turning 30 in 64 days. I’m making a concerted effort to blog everyday until my birthday. I’ve been busy lately, you know, clearing messages, and haven’t devoted enough energy to my project. Also, befriending Steve Gutenberg felt like the culmination of something. The end. Like Buffy Season 7. Where do we go from here? Well, Buffy Season 8 just came out in comic book form. If you’re still following this confusing media analogy you might guess the point. There’s a big world out there, and it needs my blog.

So keep sending your friends to my site.

Talk Thirty To Me March 2, 2007

My roommate Woody tutors Teyana, a singer/rapper signed to Pharell’s Star Trek label. He is her entire 10th grade education. This makes Woody cool. Not only does he now hold a deeper understanding of electron charge and the Constitution, but I bet he can do the Chicken Noodle Soup dance. Teyana’s really good at it. So is this kid:

Sometimes Woody and Teyana play Scrabble at a West Village coffee shop, or meet at the Museum of Natural History to discuss dioramas. Completely not fair. Once, he even taught her that a diamond grill cuts glass.

Teyana is super talented and super sweet. I know, because I went to her Super Sweet 16 MTV birthday bash at the New York Hall of Science. I met her in the bathroom and I didn’t even time her! Her party was 80s themed skateboard R&B, and featured interactive science exhibits where you could surf and throw a curve ball and wheelchair race. We were the only white people there. I really wanted to get on MTV, but despite my loud wheelchair racing, it didn’t happen. Teyana hired a highschool marching band and Disney dancers and made her grand entrance as a doll in a carriage. My boyfriend and I had just broken up (see Valentine’s Day post) so I drank too much in the VIP room, gorged myself on popcorn shrimp, and thought back to my own Sweet 16 almost half-a-life ago, when my mother surprised me with my four best friends, a Subway sandwich platter, and balloons. We couldn’t stop talking about the touring production of Cats we’d just seen. Wearing cat ears.

That was about the most middling Sweet 16 imaginable.

Our episode aired on Monday, and yeah, we didn’t get any screen time. I was blocked by a bodyguard for most of the taping anyway. But we did take some poor quality MySpace photos.

You can read a detailed account of the episode here.

I’m planning my own Super Sweet 30 in late May. Hopefully, I’ll be with my three best girlfriends, on a Carribbean beach, with a little pointy drink umbrella hitting my cheek each time I take a sip because I’m too lazy to sit up, and I’ll have downloaded “Jammin’” as my cell phone ring, and I’ll be hearing it alot because the lanky 21 year old islander club DJ won’t quit calling me, mon!

My beach vacation is only three months away. What haven’t I accomplished in my twenties? I’ve never eaten blowfish. Should I? If you have an adventurous suggestion, that involves minimal effort and money, please email me. I’ll be documenting these firsts in my blog.