Cruising for a bruising, pt. 2
Day 3: Breakfast is post treadmill and pilates. Halfway through my marmalade when 50-ish Scottish man (whom I apparently met in the casino last night) says he’s going to “sort me out”, which I can only assume is one of their primitive tribal customs. I learn that L.'s mom’s Green-Beret-style matchmaking stems from the fact that her current boyfriend (1) is not Jewish and (2) works at a liquor store. Personally, I know which one would upset me more, but to each their own. Meet a marvelously craggy Commodore Warwick at the cocktail hour, and briefly attend the Black and White Ball, where I see a 90-year old man in a white tux and tails participate in a kick line. Awesome times two.
Day 4: Lunch of conch chowder on the island with B. and C. who are celebrating their 19th anniversary. B. is a ‘working’ playwright, so he and A. are compelled to play a quick round of “famous people I know who you would think are horrible, but are actually so down to earth.” B. comes up with Tilda Swinton and Hugh Laurie, so that’s a victory in my book. Swimming in the Caribbean off St. Thomas, I feel my brain start to leak out my ears. To maintain pseudo-intellectuality, I grab my camera and go off in search of marine iguanas. M.'s German husband joins us on the beach, and I note that his haircut, which I have dubbed “The Gekko”, is impervious to water, obviously due to some advanced German hair-shellacking technology. At dinner, we have a ‘kid’s table’ at #1, where we bitch about the service. S., the young-ish (50) film and TV producer, joins us, which leads to another round of FPIKWYWTAH,BAASDTE. (Note to reader: in the future, this game will be known as FPIK, as we know that secretly, all famous people are horrible.) After dinner, we adjourn to the Golden Lion Pub for some terrible karaoke. While L.and A. off desecrating “Piano Man” I chat up the two brit boys. Brit boy #1 can’t be bothered, but Brit boy #2 is more effusive, telling me that ‘e’s ‘ere with ‘is Nan, roit? And ‘is sister’s been around the world twice, but he’s only been around once, and when he leaves ‘is family’s ‘ome in Notting Hill, ‘e goes surfing to Figi with ‘is mates. Brit boy #1 only cocks an eyebrow and makes some kind of arch comment about L. interacting with the ‘help’. I want to ask #1 why, if ‘e and his Nan are so fooking posh, are they staying in an inside cabin, yeah? Also, the Brazilian sisters are Venezuelan. Huh.
Day 4: Lunch of conch chowder on the island with B. and C. who are celebrating their 19th anniversary. B. is a ‘working’ playwright, so he and A. are compelled to play a quick round of “famous people I know who you would think are horrible, but are actually so down to earth.” B. comes up with Tilda Swinton and Hugh Laurie, so that’s a victory in my book. Swimming in the Caribbean off St. Thomas, I feel my brain start to leak out my ears. To maintain pseudo-intellectuality, I grab my camera and go off in search of marine iguanas. M.'s German husband joins us on the beach, and I note that his haircut, which I have dubbed “The Gekko”, is impervious to water, obviously due to some advanced German hair-shellacking technology. At dinner, we have a ‘kid’s table’ at #1, where we bitch about the service. S., the young-ish (50) film and TV producer, joins us, which leads to another round of FPIKWYWTAH,BAASDTE. (Note to reader: in the future, this game will be known as FPIK, as we know that secretly, all famous people are horrible.) After dinner, we adjourn to the Golden Lion Pub for some terrible karaoke. While L.and A. off desecrating “Piano Man” I chat up the two brit boys. Brit boy #1 can’t be bothered, but Brit boy #2 is more effusive, telling me that ‘e’s ‘ere with ‘is Nan, roit? And ‘is sister’s been around the world twice, but he’s only been around once, and when he leaves ‘is family’s ‘ome in Notting Hill, ‘e goes surfing to Figi with ‘is mates. Brit boy #1 only cocks an eyebrow and makes some kind of arch comment about L. interacting with the ‘help’. I want to ask #1 why, if ‘e and his Nan are so fooking posh, are they staying in an inside cabin, yeah? Also, the Brazilian sisters are Venezuelan. Huh.
posted by La Blonde Parisienne at 10:31 AM
1 Comments:
funny stuff
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