Bunni's Recommendation for Reading the Marathon Travelblog
In the interest of sanity and order I have decided to the do all the entries for the week I was on vacation in chronological order (notice the day 0-12). This means that entry is going to be like a monster. So my advice is to read maybe one or two days from that section at a time (otherwise your eyes might fall out of your head, which would be a bad thing). I will be facilitating this process by adding more and more material to that section every day (notice yesterday I only got as far as day 1 and today I'm up to day 4). I've just been recoviring since I've been back so I doubt I'll have any new material for a few days. (famous last words) I also have to work on the essay. So I need to do that as well. But keep reading, the cruise and the vacation gets more entertaining with time.
Really.
Bunni Freaks Out Part II

So I was just reading the last entry and I am thinking to myself, my god I am a total slut! So I am having all this anxiety about that (home for exactly four hours before the anxiety and depression kick in-someone hit the stop watch) so please send encouraging shout out of the "You aren't a slut, clearly those men were asking for it" kind.
The Bunni Returns

I would like to say the Bunni returns triumphant. I would also like to say that the Bunni returns with a harem of hot men who are willing to make her blue margaritas at any hour of the day. Unfortunately it isn't true, so I can't say it. However I did just get back from the trip so I'm going to do a skeleton outline that will be fleshed out more tomorrow (plus I'll add links fabulous links!).

Day 0: Professional Dating June 5th: The Day Before Departure


"What world are you living in?"
"The real one." Ed Norton and Danny Devito in Death to Smoochy


I knew I would be nervous leaving on the trip and so when a guy I shall hence forward refer to as at Whitman called for a date I said yes. We had been out previously (2 times), he is a southern atheist (if you can believe it) who doesn't believe in monogamy. Well, he is cute and he has that southern accent thing going on. So I show up all dressed for my date. It's very hard to dress for a date when you are going on vacation since so many of your clothes are packed up, but I managed to find something. So I show up and we are having dinner (I had already eaten since we agreed to meet around nine.) So I had a snack and during dinner he says to me "This is a professional date, so there isn't going to be any sex." So my re-action is "What exactly is a professional date?" And he simply explains its like dinner and drinks, but with no shall we say added bonuses. So now I'm disappointed. I am going to be trapped on a boat with a pack of people I don't know, with perhaps no potential men. The main reason I accepted the date was for the potential of sex. I mean I'm not quit stupid enough to get emotionally involved with a man who doesn't believe in monogamy.

Sure enough there was sex.

So genius locks himself in my bathroom at five am and can't get out (the lock jammed). So I have to call the super to get this man out of my bathroom at five am. Lord knows I have often wanted to imprision men in my bathroom, but it would happen right before I have to leave on a trip. An omen of things to come?

Day 1:Baggage Claim, The Beast Returns, Bella Donna and Female Orgasm 101 with Tony the Tiger

Yes and now the good stuff. So I get the man out of my bathroom and get on the plane. And I would like to take this moment to put in a plug for Dramamine. I gave myself a hit of it in the car on the way to the airport. It put me out just as well as clonazepam (also known as clinopin) and it did prevent motion sickness. Hats off to Dramamine! So I get off my flight well rested and as I wait for my bags this cute guy starts talking to me. Yes people I was HIT ON IN BAGGAGE CLAIM. And not by some noxious toad, but a cute guy. A good start methinks.

So the trip, such as it is, is going well so far. I make it easily to the hotel. I'm starving, but it's just after four and the hotel restaurant closes at four. So I am sitting in the bar and I order a hot dog (the closest food) and I see these two seriously buffed out guys sitting by the pool with a girl. I figure they both have girlfriends (the other girl presumably in the bathroom or on her way or getting breast augmentation surgery). But I can feel them both watching me as I sit in the bar. Well, even men with girlfriends have been known to stare, and so I just go about eating and having a margarita (I had to have it, it called to me.) Then I went up to the room and had time to wash up and snoozle a little before I get to a little pre cruise get together. I get up in time to get the restaurant. And here is where the horror begins.

The cruise was originally advertised for people in their twenties and thirties. (I expected some older people to be there) but the majority of them were divorced with children and let's just say past child bearing age. (I just realized a lot of these people have my screenname so I have to be careful, but I also have to be honest.) Which is basically to say I was disappointed by the pack that greeted me. But I hang out. The pack eventually decides to go back to the hotel bar and I join them. At the bar the buffed out guys and the girl are playing pool. (Can you see where this is going?)

So the girl starts talking to me. Turns out one of the buffed out guys is her fiancee (she is fairly young to be engaged) all three of them are totally smashed. But the other buffed out guy, Antonio, or Tony the Tiger for short (how is that short? It's longer than his real name) comes and starts talking to me and he is totally in love with me. He's like I saw you today and I was intimidated (this is a guy whose breasts are the size of small children and he is intimidated by me! My breasts are only the size of small watermelons.) but I now I have some "liquid courage" in me I can talk to you. And he tells me that the problem is that I have been dating American "mamalukes" (italian spelling anyone) and that a "bella donna" like me needs a Sicilian to show her the world. He says his brother found his Bella Donna, and know I am his Bella Donna (in italian apparently bella donna means beatiful girl-not a reference to the poison) So we are in the bar and he is kissing me and he is really cute and let me just say this is not the type of thing that I ever expected to happen to me (Dear Penthouse Forum...) Anyway, I'm not the type of girl that hot buff men woo, especially on break. And he is pouring it on. He's tell me he doesn't just want me for my body that he really feels comfortable with me, more comfortable than with anyone woman he has ever met, and he really wants to pursue this and he'll treat me like a queen (Do I believe any of this ? No. Do I like hearing it anyway? Yes.). And he's a good kisser. So he kissing me in the bar and of course all of my fellow cruise mates from the get together are watching. So already I am the party girl with the reputation, well, some one had to be and when your nickname is bad bunni its probably going to be you. Better that than being hit on by fifty year old men.

So finally he wants to go up to my room. What am I going to do? Say no? And miss this one opportunity? So we are in my room. And this guy I don't know where he learned it, but he should teach a required course to all freshmen straight men everywhere. Let me tell you, this man KNEW THINGS ABOUT FEMALE ANATOMY. Things that I want done. Everyday if possible. So he is one of those guys who really gets off on giving a woman pleasure. It feeds his manly ego and let me say I am totally a supporter of that. I showed my support. A couple of times. I think at one point I did the wave. author's note: I did not have sex with Tony of Tiger, I simply allowed him to pleasure me in other ways (ahem). So we are talking and this guy is telling me about his life and his house in Detriot (I know, I know) and how he got the this scar on his arm and how he got left by this girl and he didn't really date until he was like 24 because he is so shy with women. And I'm exhausted, so finally I talk him into letting me sleep. (He even wanted me to skip the cruise and he would skip going home and we would hang together-in retrospect I should have done it.) But I fall asleep all wrapped up in muscle, which normally I find muscle bound men threatening, but not Tony the Tiger. He was just a big pussy cat. In the morning i give him my info. Needless to say, he has been added to the list on the left. (Sniffle)

But here's the wierd thing (yes even wierder than having a man locked in your bathroom or fooling around with a buffed guy nicknamed after a cartoon tiger) at around two am my cell rang and I kind of recognized the number and being ever fearful of some kind of catastrophe I pick up and IT'S THE BEAST. That's right after six months the fucker calls. And so I say pretty much that to him and he says "What gave you the impression you weren't going to hear from me again?" Um, well, let me think perhaps it was the utter and complete lack of contact, ya think? So I told him I would call when I got back into town. So I'll call him in another six months. (Or so I say now, but before going on this trip I really was missing the Beast.)

Day 2: The Sword of Damocles and the Worst Dinner Conversation Ever

Ok so two weeks before the cruise this guy who is going to be on the cruise and is also in New York starts imming me. I take one look at his profile and I'm like "ICK." So I keep putting him off, and what with all the dates and getting packed, this was not so hard to do. (Actually we were supposed to go out the saturday night before the cruise, but then I got a migraine.) Anyway, I was like well I'll just see on the boat. Needless to say I was already warming up my "Let's just be friends routine." So I get on the boat, and the nice thing about vacationing with older men is that they pay for everything. They are buying us drinks. (My personal favorite-Can you guess? A Blue Moon.) So there is a cocktail party for all of us. So by this point I have reconciled myself to this being basically drinking in cool places and meeting some interesting people who I will NEVER date. So I'm at the party , and this cute guy walks up to me and says "Bunni, I'm Damocles."

*Side Note: I have chosen this particular nickname for a reason. Partially because he is Greek and quite proud, but also because of the story of theSword of Damocles.

This, THIS, was the guy I had been avoiding meeting. My jaw hit the floor. So there might be excitement afterall. So he sits down next to me and starts filling out his little name tag so that we all know who everyone is (how sad). And he starts drawing Bill the Cat. (Check out the picture near the bottom and that's Bill. There is apparently a whole cult that has grown up around him including The Bill the Cat Transformation Ritual. I'd also like to take a moment to thank Google for bringing me so many bizarre websites with which to waste my time.) So I'm like Hey that's Bill the Cat. Well, he is all excited because I am apparently one of the few to recognize the Bill the Cat. And he loves Bill the Cat, he even has a Bill the Cat tattoo on his arm. (Oh what is it about tattoos?) So we start talking about Bloom County and its just obvious to everyone that we are the first couple to really hit it off. In addition, my roommmate has yet to be heard from (I was sharing a stateroom with some woman named Consuelo.)

Then comes dinner. We all have assigned tables. So there I am. And this Asian guy from LA sits next to me. He seems fairly innocuous until...

I would like to say this to all of my out of town readers. If you ever come across a New Yorker on vacation, please PLEASE unless WE bring it up, do not ask us about Sept. 11th. The last thing I want to talk about on vacation is that.

So, let's call him Blathering Idiot, Blathering Idiot asks me where I am from. I tell him and he goes " Why would you want to live there?" I was like "Hey, buddy, one could say the same of LA." But no being a totally polite little girl I said "Well some of us just have the right temperment for it. " (Right the "Hey buddy I'm walkin' here" temperment or the "Don't make me beat you insensible with your own arm" temperment.) So then he starts asking me about Sept. 11th. And I don't mean just like oh a couple of comments, he wants like serious detail.(Where was I? What was I thinking? Did I know anyone? How far was I exactly?) Because that's exactly what I want to talk about over a nice glass of red wine on my way to Jamaica. So finally I get him over that particularly little topic and then THEN he starts questioning me about my job.

Now when you are a young professor and you look even younger than you are people feel they have the right to really push you about your job. I mean if I was 157 years old would they really feel comfortable challenging me about my grading criteria or the matieral that I think is absolutely necessary? No, probably not. What they don't think is if I am so young and I manage to have this job it means I have to be even more competent than the average NYU teacher. But no, he starts really challenging me about grading and what exactly do I do and why is that really necessary. Because again the thing I REALLY want to talk about on vacation is my job.
So I keep looking over desperately at Damocles. (Who is typical amusing yet evil fashion raises his wine glass to my looks of desperation.)

So finally dinner ends and Damocles and I decide to go hot tubbing. (Thank you Blind Date and Ex-treme Dating for all those tender moments in the HOT TUB.) But the hot tub is closed. So Damocles and I when we talked online had discussed cards. So he says ok I'll get a pack of cards and you order a bottle of wine (as it had become clear by this time that my roommate had not gotten on the boat) and we'll hang out in your room. So I'm like ok.

So I'm excited, cute guy coming to my room to play cards by ourselves.

Who could resist?

Apparently every man on this cruise.

He taught me how to play black jack. We played gin. I actually did pretty well. And he was running his fingers down my leg, but he wasn't doing anything. And I'm like this is a military guy, this is not a guy who is afraid of little old me. He can't be waiting for me to make the first move.

So we are talking. He tells me about his ex-wife and how she cheated on him. He is considerably bitter, which I would say, is perfectly reasonable. I would be extremely bitter to if my husband cheated on me eight times while I was completely faithful. So now they are divorced, and here is where it gets kind of dangerous. Damocles admits to being a dog, and just wanting to chase skirt. Now you would think that this would fit in with my ideology perfectly. But you see I am not a simple person, I am not a single nature. I have this tormented complex complete pain of the ass of a personality. Which means when I am comfronted with my male counterpart and suddenly, after having been pleasured the previous night by Tony the Tiger from Detroit, my puritanical sensibilities kick in (who knew I packed those?). I'm like that's not what I want. I mean, what I really didn't want was to sleep with this guy and then trapped on a boat with him while he pursues other female conquests.

So anyway we are talking and we decide just to be friends.(he does promise no matter what that i will get a motorcycle ride and dinner when we get back to NYC-we shall see if this holds up) This is what I say. It being the first day. However, I know this just friends thing isn't going to last. I just have to hold out long enough to convince myself that I did the right thing and that I was overwhelmed with passion. I pass out after having finished a bottle of wine.

Day 3:The Rumor Mill

I wake up late. I haven't had much sleep since getting to Florida. Up until 4 am with Tony, up until 2 am with Damocles. So I get up and find no one around so finally I go out to the sun deck. I am by myself being bored thinking about Damocles and what exactly I should be doing about that situation when he comes up behind me. And I make a little bit of a mistake. He comes around me and he goes in to hug me and just instictively I go to kiss him. And then half way there I realize what I'm doing and pull back, but by then its too late so I have to give him a peck.

Now Damocles if he was or is rather such a genius with the ladies should have taken this as a sign that he didn't have to wait much longer if he wanted to turn on the charm. So he sits next to me and we chat. We roam around the ship a little bit.

Now the rumor mill is already in full tilt. The rumors are of course that I have slept with Damocles, which couldn't be further from the truth, I didn't even kiss Damocles until that morning and that was just a peck. But of course word on the street is that Damocles and I are the first couple of the cruise (only perhaps to be outdone by a couple who had been corresponding online for weeks before the cruise).

Yet there are problems. Damocles keeps talking to me about other women (since we are just friends it is ok for us to talk about other people-or more accurately for him to talk about other women-as there only a few hot men on board and almost all of them except for the one that was standing next to me were taken). So this makes me uncomfortable.

And Damocles said one thing to me up there on the sundeck. "You need to just stop thinking and caring about everything. It will make a world of difference." Well yes it would IF ONLY I KNEW HOW TO DO IT. This is something akin to the advice of Speed Freak who when in response to his question about what was I thinking that made me so sad said to me "Well just don't think those thoughts" Well thank you captain obvious. Don't you think if I could pull that off I would have by now? I mean it's great advice, but the problem is I don't know how. Is there some kind of instruction manual? A "Life's Little How to Be Mindless Manual"? (For me it's about four shots of tequila.) And I haven't really had anyone teach me.

So I go get ready for dinner. I seriously thought about inviting Damocles to my apartment for some pre-dinner enjoyment, but no the Puritan side was still strong. or at least strong enough to hold out until after dinner. This night I sit with Damocles, but Damocles is also trying to get these two other women he and his roommate met today to sit with us at dinner . (I made him promise that he would never NEVER let me sit with Blathering Idiot again.) We have a good time. (INSIDE JOKE: Cream Caroline-Don't ask.) These two women sitting with us (I will simply because they are extremely common names use their real first names) Kim and Cindy are all like "You two are like a married couple" with the bickering. No one can believe that we just met the day before. And then after dinner Damocles and his roommate invite me to join them and these two women to see the show.

And my heart just sank.

As an only child I don't deal well with competition. So I said no, but there was this look on my face. I mean, how could he? Well, the truth was very easily, and since we were "just friends" and in truth there had not been any physical contact there was absolutely no reason why he shouldn't have. And here is the ridiculous thing. I had my shot. I could have had him and I said no. And I was unhappy, but the thing is if I had said yes, would I have been happy then? If he slept with me and then had gone off with these two women would I have been happier? No. SO basically unhappy if you do, unhappy if you don't.

And beyond that I could have gone to the show with them. I could have showed myself off for the superior chick that I am, been cool, hung out secure in the knowledge that I am the best woman.

But I panicked. I panicked and felt rejected. A huge mistake.

So I go to the show with these other people from the group. And now I am the rejected lover. They are all asking me what happened and I shrug. And they say "Well that's what happen when you sleep with a guy." And I'm like "Hey hey hey I didn't sleep with him." Do they believe me? Not at all. Is it the truth? Absolutely.

So I go up to the club to dance after the show. I am in a bad mood, but the dancing makes me feel much better. This flight instructor in the group buys me drinks and tequila shots. My mood improves. Then I see Damocles and his roommate walking around (I would like to say that the women that they were seeing at the show were so not to my level. Not as attractive and certainly not as smart. I would take them on American Gladiators any day of the week.) and it turns out the two chicks STOOD THEM UP. Now does this make me happy? A little. I'm still pissed, but I figure I can work my mojo the next day in beautiful Jamaica.

Now here is the thing. I could have "made up" with him there, but in typical Bunni fashion I wanted to punish him. And in addition I was still fairly wounded by beaing replaced by Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. (Ok Ok that was gratuitous, I admit it. Lassie was a lot smarter than either of these girls. Snarkle.) The flight instructor, Big Dog, and I close out the club at around four.

Day 4: The Queen of Ass in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, Baked Alaska, and Bunni's Male Harem

So in Ocho Rios there are the famous falls. I go with Kim and Cindy, the girls from dinner the night before. They have decided that there are absolutely no men worth speaking to in the group (aside from polite dinner conversation that is) and they decide to adopt me so we form a trio. Our small little group is joined by some random people from the cruise and we hike up the falls (actually I walked beside the falls because my foot was bothering me and I was worried with my disability and size about my ability to climb the falls) So as we are walking up the falls and one of the guides say something to our guide. Our guide says to me "Did you hear what he said?" And I say no I wasn't listening. And he says "How do I say this politely?" And I say, "Listen I'm from NYC just tell me I can take it." "Well he says he likes your ass." And sure enough every male guide all the way up the falls says the same thing to our guide. So in Jamaica I could apparently have several men who worship my ass.

So that was fun having a whole group of ass worshipping Jamaicans trail me up the falls. So I get back to the boat and get ready for our daily cocktail party where I loaded up on free glasses of champagne before dinner. So there is Damocles. I could have sat next to him, could have rekindled our friendship. Do I? No. I want him to come to me. That's right. I wanted to break him. A classic mistake, especially when dealing with a wronged former military man. (But I loved how he took my arm. Most men don't know how to hold a woman's arm, but military men do. I love that. I admit it. I am one with it. I am now moving on from it.)

So I sit there. Soon I have a flock of men around me. True most of them are in their late forties early fifties, but still a harem is a harem especially since Damocles didn't have a chick. So I am sitting there surrounded by these men and as people leave Damocles sees me and offers to take a picture of me with my men. Just to show how not jealous and cool he is. Riiiiiiight.

But amongst Bunni's harem there is one man, a guy about 33 from Alaska who has that cute Ed Norton as Aaron in Primal Fear thing goin' on for him, that whole "Aw shucks ma-am isn't my stutter charming." (Ed Norton is Death to Smoochy would also pass.) I won't use his real name (which is quite literary on its own) but I shall refer to him from now on as Baked Alaska, or as another friend of mien referred to him half Baked Alaska. Anyway, Baked Alaska is really cute, cuter even than Damocles, although nowhere near as dynamic and engaging. So I decide to change my sites.

What I didn't take into consideration is that Damocles both being from New York also have a similar mindset and temperament. Another huge miscalculation on my part. No wonder I never did well with math.

So I end up sitting together and talking with Baked Alaska until 1 am. He doesn't make a physical move towards me, not a hand not a caress not a pat on the back. Nothing. Now when a man resists, he has my full attention. So now I am totally fixed on getting Baked Alaska.

And what Bunni wants, Bunni gets.

Day 5: Sting Ray City and Hell Grand Cayman, The Magician, and the Engagement

"You know I could never figure out why we broke up."
"Because you became an asshole and I didn't love you."
"But baby we could have worked through that." Death to Smoochy

So I go snorkeling with the stingrays. I have done it once before and I loved it, this, I admit, was a bit of a disappointment. But what is interesting is you have these five feet wide stingrays and a whole bunch of people standing on this standbar together. And you would think the stingray would go around. Nope, they are just like New Yorkers, they just weave through the crowd like we aren't there. So I am having a cool time, but I notice Damocles is with this chick from the Netherlands (Why do they always go for the Swiss Miss?) She's one of those peroxide blondes with fuscia lipstick. You know the ones who aren't aging well even though she is only in her mid thirties. (Am I bitter? You bet.) I mean if you are going to replace me at least replace me with quality you know what I am saying? This girl had her hair cut with a weed whacker.

So there I am swimming with the sting rays (They liked me. Who wouldn't? They kept rubbing up against me as I saw around. They were all soft on their undersides.) having a good time and even though Damocles is with let's call her Yolanda (After the character played by Amanda Plumber in Pulp Fiction- "Any of you fucking pricks move and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of you.") he swims over to me and asks me how I am doing. So the New Englander kicks in, polite but brief. I'm like "I'm good" swim away wiggling my ass gratutiously. So he goes back to Yolanda.

So on the boat back everyone is talking to me about "Oh I think Damocles really cares for Yolanda." I'm like "yep sure right." And I secretly wondering did he tell her the same thing about being a dog? Does she know? I can't tell her she'll just think I'm jealous and she would be right. Hey I made not just one mistake but several. In fact the older I get the more mistakes I realize I've made. This may be why I spend so much time inside blogging now. I can't make too mistakes. Except with my cat and she doesn't have much choice but continue to hang with me.

But I'm not fazed because I am going after Baked Alaska. I've decided. Screw Damocles and Swiss Miss, I am going to show them.

And here, ladies and gentlemen in the low point in the trip. I mean the LOW point. Get your limbo sticks and your limber spines out.

So I am back on the ship sharing a bucket of coronas with some of my fellow cruissers. And I am complaining because the fifty year olds are getting more play than I am. I am here I am body of a porn star, young, sweet, with a room ALL to myself and I am getting no play. Now I have said no to one offer, but still, BUT STILL people I am not happy. And I am advertisiing.

And this is when the magician appears. I mean we are sitting there and he comes up and starts doing card tricks. Now this sounds lame, but he was actually very good. God knows in the theater you see your fair share of tricks. I know how to use misdirection myself (for blood packets, thrown punches, etc etc) and I still couldn't catch the slight of hand. The man is good with his hands.

And so suddenly the group vanishes leaving me alone with the Magician.

Now let's call him Volta ( after Burling Hull ). So here I am with Volta all alone. And we are talking, so after about forty minutes of conversation Volta invites me back to his stateroom.

And now a word about cruise talent. There is no one, NO ONE, on this planet who gets more ass than the talent staff on a cruiseline. I am absolutely convinced of it. And for some reason the staff always likes me. The last cruise I was on I hooked up with a jazz bassist. (A much better choice if I may say so, just as good with his hands, but a much better conversationalist.) Here you have a bunch of people trapped on a boat, probably drinking too much, and you have young women like me looking for trouble. The perfect combination for the talent staff. Add to it that the talent staff is composed of dancers, musicians, and singers-guys who basically get a lot of ass anyway. It's a diabolical combination.

Now as I said before its a violation for staff to comingle with the guests. As I have also said before, that's never stopped them when it comes to me. Hey it's their job to make sure I have a pleasant stay, and that might mean some self sacrifice on their part.

I would also like to say this, considering what happened, there is a part of me that really wants to use this guy's real name. I also have his website address ( Again I sacrifice a young christian child on the altar of Google.). And G-d knows discretion has never been my strong suit. I did promise I would never tell. But then I did as much for J.B. I could very well link to him AND use his real name. Bad cruel mean Bunni.

BUT I won't. That's right I will restrain myself. I really shouldn't, but I don't want the poor guy to lose his job over me. I am a sucker to the very end.

So after twenty minutes Volta invites me back to his stateroom. Now I am not yet in the correct mindset, but the wheels are turning. Here I have the chance to be the master playa. You know REALLY knock Damocles on his ass. I'll have actual emotional caring from Baked Alaska and pure sexual gratification from Volta who really is good with his hands. (The imagination runs wild, the mathmatical possibilities are mind boggling, the negatives are in a locked vault.) So I am like well no I have to get ready for this cocktail party. (I explained the situation with Damocles. And about the parties.) Volta agrees to appear at the cocktail party and I agree to meet him at the Hemisphere on later on that night. I know I need a lot more liquor in my system before this seems like a good idea to me. (Volta is not the most physically attractive guy on the planet.)

So I get to the cocktail party and the first thing Big Dog asks me is "So how is the Magician?" I'm like Christ I left the guy on deck twenty minutes ago, news travels fast. I play it cool, I'm like hey he's coming later. But you know Baked Alaska is coming to the party so I have to down shift into cute little girl. So Volta finally shows up. So there I am flirting with the Magician on one side and the Ed Norton wanna be on the other. A delicate balance. And getting toasted on champagne the whole way. (Again getting drunk here is actually the goal.) By this point I don't even care about Damocles and Yolanda.

AND THEN COMES DINNER. So I am having dinner with Baked Alaska and some of the other cruisers and at the beginning of dessert Damocles and Yolanda announce their engagement.

There are very few times when I am left without words. No way to even explain how I felt in that moment. No way to even begin to do it justice. It had just officially become a horrible day. If G-d had come down personally and visited locusts and frogs on the ship, it couldn't have been worse.

You know how you aren't supposed to say "It can't get worse" because it will?

Well, it did. Much much much worse.

I was plagued with all these ideas. Could it have been me? Was it simply convencience? If I had yes, would I be engaged now? Or is there something, some unarticulated something that keeps me from being that girl? Mind you in March I was proposed to three times in three days, but really, what the hell happened?

The whole point of me going to was to forget about Eric and that if all had gone according to plan we would be planning a wedding right now. But no, it came and followed me onto the boat (another thing I apparently forgot I packed). So I continue to be myself a jaded depressed New Yorker, I just have a more exotic location for my depression. The thrill.

So then getting drunk became a moral imperative. After dinner, Baked Alaska and I go on deck and finally after two hours of conversation, FINALLY he kisses me.

I am forced at this point to ask the question, how the hell is it possible to passionately kiss without tongue?

This guy never used tongue. NEVER. In fact, when I tried to slip it to him he jumped back as if bitten. And now we know why the cute guy doesn't have a girlfriend. So I try kissing him for a while. But I am totally disappointed. I don't have the time to teach this guy how to kiss. I'm getting off the damn boat in three days. I don't have that kind of time nor do I have that kind of patience or inclination. I mean, what am I? Charity for dysfunctional lovers? I already gave at the office. (Duke Nukem and his two months of impotence.) So I get back to my room at 11:45.

I hide out in my room for five minutes and then go up to the Hemisphere. I know Baked won't be there because he isn't a dancer and he doesn't stay up late. Also somehow the rumors about me haven't gotten to him, mainly because he is sweet but clueless. Even if people told him the truth about me, he wouldn't believe them. Touching, misguided, but touching.

So Volta shows up. And he is doing tricks and this other girl on the cruise is hot for him. I just sit back. There is no way. He's got me in the bag, he isn't going to go after her. So I am getting absolutely trashed on gin and tonics. Finally Volta is like "Are we going to do this?" And I'm like yep. Because now I have to, it's no longer a question of want, it's a question of must. So I say, you go first and I'll go later. You call my room and then come over. He says "You know I could lose my job over this." "Relax" I tell him "I've done this before."

So Volta shows up. I am totally drunk. He is sitting on my bed and I attack him. We are kissing and trashing and I am half naked and then and then and then

and then he says "I can't do this."

Because what else could go wrong today? The cruise magician, THE CRUISE MAGICIAN is turning me down. Did I just enter the Bermuda triangle? What the hell is this?

So I am like "What?" he says "Remember when I said I am not boyfriend material, well I actually have a girlfriend. I thought I could do this and it wouldn't bother me. But now that I am here, now that its happening I realize I would know and I just can't."

A word of advice to men. If you could have these little epiphanies while I'm still dressed it would be really appreciated. You know, guys trained me that if I wasn't going to go all the way, I shouldn't talk like I am- that whole "Guys have needs. You can't just take us to the brink and disappoint." Well, you know what guys? Some of girls are exactly the same way. Don't talk us all up if you aren't gonna deliver. And if you aren't you can at least find a replacement. You know what I'm sayin' here?

So I'm like"Jesus Christ." And Volta takes a moment and says "I guess I really love her. I guess when I get back I should ask her to marry me."

It was a great trick. In one sentence he made all of my self esteem and dignity disappear.

So I started crying. Yep, I mean, screw it, it's not like I had any dignity left anyway. Here I had gotten drunken off my ass to sleep with this guy I don't really want and he's rejected me, the guy I want is engaged to Yolanda the Uberslut, and the guy I'm stuck with learned how to kiss from a striped bass.

I would have done better if I had stayed in New York.

So I just lay there and cried in front of Volta for quite some time.

Down, down, down, down the rabbit hole I go.

Day 6: The Wages of Sin, The Free Tequila Conga Line, and the OTHER Antonio

If Grand Cayman was the low point, than Cozumel Mexico was the high point.

According to Christian lore the wages of sin are death. Well, in Mexico the wages of sin are five Mexican boyfriends, a questionable Corona, and a free hash pipe.

I woke up extremely hung over. In fact, I was so hung over and depressed that I figured "Mexico can go fuck itself, I am staying right here in bed." But then time went on. We docked late. I got breakfast. I saw that beautiful azure water. I went on shore.

And immediately I had every young hot Mexican guy in Cozumel.

I was wearing this white half top and a yellow sarong tied to billow out behind me all dramatic like.

I didn't really expect much from Mexico. I was walking around this little open air type of plaza on the beach. I found some beautiful silver. I bought a bracelet and a bunny ring (which I am wearing right now-it's a little big for my finger so I will have to guard against it getting lost). Of course, I had all these guys calling to me from their booths, following me, I just kept walking with my eyes down (that new Yorker instinct). But there was this short guy (my size) with this booth that had a wooden bunny that was all painted. So I stopped and looked, and he tells me there are more upstairs. So he gets another guy, Antonio, to take me upstairs. Antonia takes my arm (remember how I like a man who knows how to hold a ladies arm) and I take my sarong in one hand and we go upstairs and he shows me the other bunnies.

Apparently these bunnies were a type of dream demon. I thought that was appropriate so I picked out one (red paint with green and white detailing) and I got a purple and black porcupine one for my mother. Then Antonio takes me into another shop where there was air conditioning (Oh thank you lord for inventing such a divine appliance).So I walk around. Then the first guy, the small one comes up, and he wants to take me into his shop. So he takes me around (I wasn't impressed-not much there). He keeps trying to peek down my blouse. Another guy in the store across the way, also wants to see me. Now everwhere I go I am trailing at least four or five guys, who won't talk directly to me, but definately are interested. The short guy wants to be my boyfriend, but his friend tells me "Oh you don't want him, he was in jail yesterday." So I laugh. I am walking around this new store, now I have guy number three following me around asking to be my boyfriend. So I decide to go bck to Antonio, he is the cutest and the least aggressive of these guys (he, unlike the third guy, doesn't keep asking me if my breasts are real). So I go back to the jewelry store. I walk around picking things out (an amber pendant with an silver chain, a silver and tiger's eye bracelet, small silver and amber flower earrings). While I am doing that Antonio offers me a Corona.

Now I know I should have said no. I mean there could have been some kind of date rape drug in there or god know's what maybe even some of that mythical spanish fly. But no it was a plain old corona. So I drank it, it was nice and cold and tasty. I bought my jewelry and Antonio asked me if I wanted to go downtown. Now what this really means is "Come home with me." Now all I needed to make my vacation complete is to be sold into white slavery in Mexico. So I say no. He decides to take me out on the balcony. There is the beach and this beautiful blue water and my ship and kisses me.

And he IS a good kisser, he has a tongue and he knows how to use it. So we are up there kissing. Nothing to stop Baked Alaska or even Damocles from seeing it (except a natural tendency not to look up). So we are kissing and kissing and kissing. And he keeps asking me to come with him, and I keep saying no. He is cute with his dimples and slender body. Finally after much fooling around (just kissing-a some mild caressing) he has to go back to work. He tells me to meet him again in an hour. I give him my address in NYC and he gives me his phone number in Mexico. Before I leave him, he takes me back to his store to pick out a free hash pipe. Any one I want.

There some graphic ones (naked women having sex-69s) there were some devilish ones, but the one I picked was a little red lizard with googly eyes. Somehow it fit. (I haven't used it yet, he is sitting on top of my computer next to my dream demon bunny.)

I cross the square, and the little guy accosts me. He is all hurt and rejected that I chose Antonio. So I give him a pat on the head and then I spot Kim and Cindy at Senor Frog's.

Senor Frog's is actually a chain down in Mexico, which I highly recommend. Not only do they have good food and drinks, but how we love the staff. Not only does the staff periodically dance for your enjoyment, but they love us lovely American girls. So Kim and Cindy have already had a snack and a margarita each. I join them and have a margarita myself. I do a tasty shot of this hot pink liquor with them. Then I order a snack. Oscar, a waiter who has taken a liking to Cindy, buys us all another shot of the hot pink liquor (it went down so easy-it tasted like juice-one of those dangerous type liquors where you can drink half a bottle without realizing its alcohol and then you try to stand up and suddenly you are thrashing about on the floor drunkenly screaming "I have no legs. I have no legs. And I can't see. OH MY GOD I'M PARALYZED AND BLIND." At which point all of your friends take pictures before helping you to puke your guts out in the nearest toilet.) Cindy takes off for a massage on the boat and that's when the DJ at senor frog's announces the FREE TEQUILA CONGA LINE.

Let me just say that I would like to make the free tequila conga line a requirement of the working week. You know, suddenly and without warning on like a wednesday, suddenly this voice over the loud speaker "Ok everyone if you could just put down what you are doing right now and precede to the copier for the free tequila conga line." Put on some hot samba music. Suddenly everyone strips down to half tops and sarongs, loose beach pants and bikinis. Who cares if you don't have the body for it-everyone is drinking tequila-they won't remember anyway. There is your boss wearing a hawaiian shirt, passed out with a garbage can on his head. I mean, wouldn't that make your day a little better?

So I hear free tequila conga line and I am up. As I told my fellow cruisers, you want to garantee my presence all you have to do is free liquor and I'll be there. (I feel about liquor the way those idiots in commercials feel about Klondike bars.) Kim is all "No way no way" but as soon as she sees me in the line she is up. So anyway there are these three guys standing on ladders at three different points in the restaurant. You conga around and as you pass by they pour a shot into your mouth. They pour as long as you want. So the conga line makes it around twice. So that's six tequila shots in about two minutes. And this isn't watered down tequila, this was nice smooth tequila. Didn't need no stinking lime or salt, just swallow it down. So my little white half top is now soaked with tequila. Now see that's a freakin' vacation. Being wooed and followed by attractive men and then getting soaked in quality free alcohol in a beautiful setting. Yeah, baby. Feel the love.

So now Kim is fairly toasted and she has learned the lesson so many of us have learned on board, when you get to that level of drunkness the only way to continue functioning is to KEEP DRINKING. So I order another margarita and she orders some mexican beer. Then we haul our drunken butts back towards the ship.

As I cross the square all of the guys come out to say good-bye, a friend of Antonio's come sup to tell me that he was waiting for me, that he will go get him. I say I have to go back on the boat (the truth is Kim is smashed and I don't want to leave her alone for fear she'll fall off the pier.).

So Kim is at the stage of silly drunkeness. She is going on about how the party must continue. I decide to bring up a radical idea. I say next year she and cindy and I should all do cozumel for spring break. (I have privately decided regardless of Cindy and Kim I am going to do this. I've never done spring break and I think the time has come for me to do it. If only I could bring blogger Jin with me, then it would be absolutely perfect. I think the two of us vacationing and blogging on spring break would definately be a media worthy event. Fuck the Real Cancun and join NYC bloggers gone wild!) So she is all over it. We get to the boat, and our boat does this thing where they have cold towels waiting for you at the gangway. Now it is so hot, it is great to come back to these nice soothing cold towels. So Kim grabs a towel and she is saying "Oh these towels are the best." There was this Carnival boat across the way. Kim is saying "We have the best boat. They treat us so well. The Carnival people don't get cold towels." So I am trying to keep a stright face while agreeing that we do indeed have the best boat.

So Kim and I go up to the Lido deck for another drink. I order a Miami Vice (half Pina Colada, half Stawberry Daquiri) she orders a frozen Bahama Mama. When my drink arrives, it has about a half inch of rum on the top. Kim is going on about how we have the best ship and that our bartender, Tuncay, who looks like Benicio del Toro, is the best bartender and this is just the greatest trip ever. We finish our drinks and we go down to get ready for dinner.

At dinner I sit with Cindy and Kim. Also joining us Damocles, Yolanda, and Dam's roommate Mr. Anger Management issues. Apparently everyone had the same experience in Mexico as usually each table ordered about two bottles of wine. That night I was the only one drinking wine. Several seats were open as quite a few people were MIA. Kim left dinner after about fifteen minutes and never returned (later she would tell me that the tequila WANTED OUT!!!) So there I am trying to sustain a dinner conversation while not acknowledging Damocles. I did talk to Yolanda a little, the truth is that Yolanda didn't speak much english. And she and Damocles brely said all of two sentences to each other, although he kept his hand on her leg all through dinner. Dinner did take the damper off my day for a bit, until Dam's roommate asked me about Mexico and I got to talk about all the men trailing me about and the free tequila. It was a good day all.

It was that day that I make the decision not to ever go on a cruise again. Next time it will be to a resort where I can wander around, so I am not trapped with the same imbeciles every night.

Day 7: Boredom at Sea and Dirty Martinis

Fairly uneventful. There was a free martini tasting and I discover that I have a tasty for dirty martinis. What a shock. I am now actively pining to get back on land. I miss my blog. I miss my friends. I think if I can talk to them or blog I would feel better, get a catharsis or some kind of release.

Day 8: The Garden of Eden, a Writer? and I'll Be Home for Christmas
Key West, Florida-Where the tequila sunrise is a way of life.

So again, like all the other ports I start off on my own. I'm not afraid. I know I'll run into some people somewhere. So I start to wander. It's hot, I mean enough to melt me hot. I keep wandering into store just to cool off. After a while I get hungry and I see, of all things, a zagat rated restaurant. I sit by myself by the railing. I am writing notes in my notebook for an old story ( which I also need to work on). The waitress asks me if I am writer.

Am I?

I should be, but somehow I can never finish stories. Even getting to the end of this travelblog has been act of will (especially considering the not so happy shout outs I have been getting over it. Support people. Support the Bunni.)

So I say that I am English professor, but that I write stories and we chat for a bit. Then I spot one of the cruisers. Let's call him Ornery. He was a self proclaimed troublemaker (later I was proclaimed his female counter part-both of us were rumoured to have many conquests on the boat and both of us loudly proclaimed our innocence) and whenever anyone asked him how he was doing he always responded "Ornery", which I totally respect him for because it is another one of those fabulous words that has fallen by the wayside in terms of colloquial usage. S Ornery and the four other guys with him come up and join me. Where there once was one, there are now six. Then we see another cruiser, let's call her Blue Eyes (she had beauitful blue eyes, which was good because she needed serious dental work-the eyes were a good distraction) and her new Beau, Eh? (He was from Cananda and he had that stereotypical Canadian accent- Don't know what I am talking aboot, eh?) and another chick, Chiquita. (She kind of reminded me of what Carmen Miranda would have been like if she had put on a lot of weight and decided to host a talk show.) So now we are nine.

They are all already drunk and they have decided that I should be too. Far be it from me to stop anyone from that particular goal. So I wander with them to a bar called the Bull and listen to Yankee Jack , who is a riot and I totally endorse his act. So we have a margarita there and then Blue Eyes and I head upstairs to the Garden of Eden a small bar where clothing is optional.

They have body painting up there and Blue Eyes and I were going to get our breasts painted, but they didn't open that part until 8 pm. Damn, the breast painting will just have to wait until next year. So we see a naked guy casually sipping a beer and small breasted bartender wiping the bar and we decide to head back to the Bull.

I went to Hell on Grand Cayman and the Garden of Eden in Florida all in one trip.

We leave Key West early. Our entire tribe is seriously drunken. We head to our final cocktail party. Everyone is drunkenly exchanging emails and phone numbers. I am sitting by Baked Alaska resting my head on his shoulder out of exhaustion and drunkeness.

After dinner Baked Alaska and I head up to the Hemisphere. I have my cellphone with me because I am finally in range and DESPERATE TO TALK TO MY FRIENDS. I call my friend who is cat sitting to make sure that my apartment hasn't burned down or that my cat hasn't been adbucted by Argentian drug lords. While sitting in the Hemsiphere Baked Alaska says to me "So I'll come to NYC in December for your birthday." Now not only do I not remember telling him when my birthday is, but I don't remember ever suggesting that he come visit me. I mean, here is a guy who hasn't even so much as french kissed me and he is going to travel all the way across the country to see me? And I'm like "Oh that will be great." And secretly saying "Please G-d let Justin call again. Right now. Dial the phone and call. Or really ANY GUY THAT I CAN PRETEND IS A BOYFRIEND." But no one called. Finally I got tired. I went out on deck and discovered that Blogger Jin had left me a voicemessage signing "I'm a little tea pot." I cracked up and called him.

So Baked Alaska asks me afterwards "Oh is that the same guy who is cat sitting?" And I'm like "Nope...oh but THERE IS NO REASON TO BE JEALOUS hint hint nudge nudge." And he totally doesn't get it and says "Oh I'm not. I can't wait to meet your friends they sound like such fun."

Sigh.

So then he comes back to my stateroom. And what does he do on our last night together. He sits there are talks to me. From a distance. No arm on arm, no touching, no caressing, nope. Just yakkin' at me about how good I am for him, how I am exactly what he needed, and he doesn't know what he would have done with out me on the trip. How he wishes that I could be closer to him and he hopes that the next few months will fly by until we are back together again. He is telling me that he always knew that he would meet smart intelligent sophisticated woman. (Oh how I hate think of myself as a fully grown woman.) Mind you all the other women on the trip were telling me "Oh we are so happy for you and Baked Alaska. He is a keeper." And all I can think of is getting away.

But isn't this what I wanted. A sweet caring boyfriend? A guy who would travel all the way across the freakin' country for me?

And I can't run from it fast enough.

Finally he hugs me and says "I'll miss you." And I say "Awww, you're sweet." Mr. Clueless doesn't pick up on that little hint either. So he gives me a few kisses. Hugs me again. Gives me a little hair stroke and starts talking to me again at which point I say "Listen, we have to be up really early tomorrow so I am going to go to bed." Now people when I say it's getting late, little miss no sleep to brooklyn, that is a SIGN. But he says you're right, you're right and leaves.

Seven nights, and not once, not once did a man spend the night. If that isn't a sign that there something radically wrong with the universe, I don't know what is.

Day 9: Disembarkation

At 8:40 Baked Alaska is still not awake. His room mate asks me what I did to the guy. What can I say? Apparently, four tongueless kisses, a hair stroke, two hugs, and some conversation from me are just too much for some men to handle.

Ornery and I have coffee together and talk about our unearned reputations. We trade banter. He is an attractive older man I think. And then quickly I realize I've been on this boat too long. I can't wait to get off and see my long lost friend Ma Belle Ami.

Ma Belle Ami calls me at six in the morning to tell me he is running late and won't be at the pier until noon. I tell him "I am going to be so happy to see you I am going to lick his face like a dog. Just so you know." I am not joking.

Now here is the thing. I had a great three days with Ma Bell Ami, but I am not going to write about them here. I do this partially because he has been one of the best friends I have had for the last eight years (he was the one I called when I found out that David Bucknam was dead-see archives). I do it to protect our friendship (ie so he won't hunt me down and kill me or stop talking to me or release the krakon upon me). But also do it to protect myself. Don't get any big ideas about me being altruistic. There are certain thoughts I had during that those days that even I don't want him to know about. It's all self interest in the end.

I do want to say this however, those three days with Ma Belle Ami were the happiest I have been in the last two years. I don't want him to think (because he reads this blog) that because I haven't written about him here that I don't appreciate him or the time we spent together. It was the best part of my vacation. So thank you for making me happy.


Day 10 and 11: Wrong Turn

"Though lovers be lost love shall not" Dylan Thomas

About the only thing I will write about my stay is that Ma Belle Ami and I saw Wrong Turn together (starring Faith from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Billy from Six Feet Under-two of my favorite shows!). Now the title of that movie would be a good title for about almost all of my trip. But I saw it at the drive-in with Ma Bell Ami. It was great. The last time I was at the Drive In was to see Phantom Menace with Duke Nukem. Anyway, it is an AWFUL MOVIE. It makes Jeepers Creepers look like Schindler's List. Really. It's so bad, there isn't even anything to make fun of it about. You have been warned.

Day 12: Return Home

After a tearful goodbye from Ma Bell Ami I return to the patheticness that is my life, but I come back a changed woman. How do I know? Well, when I left NYC, I got to airport two hours early as directed. In Ft. Lauderdale, I waited until the last minute. When I finally got to my gate I waited all of about five minutes before I was allowed to board. And I wasn't scared. Of course there was a part of me that was hoping that I wouldn't make the flight, a part of me that was hoping that Ma Bell Ami wouldn't have any choice but to keep me under his bed as a pet. (Hey, is there a little redhead under the bed? Nope, nope, I just didn't vacuum. It must be a really big dust bunny.) But I got on, and now I am home.

So now I am back to my pathetic little life. Back to making fun of the people on mate.com (I return to find there is interest from a 49 year old man from Denmark. The horror of missing out on that!) and hanging out with my cat and of course blogging.

The good news is that when a gay man cat sits for you your apartment is cleaner than when you left, and he leaves a full pint of ben d jerry's in the freezer. (I saw a sign in a store in england once that said "You have Hagen Das after sex. You have Ben and Jerry's instead of it.")

So what have we learned? We have learned that whole saying "It's not the size of the ship, it's the motion of the ocean" is utter bullshit. Fuck the motion of the ocean. If you want to get lucky stay at the Best Western Oceanside and ask for Tony the Tiger.

He's grrrrrrrrrrrrreat!