An Iowa Wedding: The Bachelorette Party

The bachelorette party was a day-long adventure that started out with cake and cocktails at the Barefoot Bar, then progressed to a day of meandering down the lakes in a pontoon boat stuffed full of twenty-something ladies, bottles of booze, and various “gifts” that will not be shown in pictures on this blog due to their lascivious nature.  But they were responsible ladies, and had the foresight to pay the boat rental place to supply them with a driver for the boat.

Meet Tyler.

Tyler is 19 years old.  He was also the lucky employee of the boat rental place who got chosen to drive our boat.  He was pretty happy with this outcome.  

This picture is where we returned to the boat rental place and he had to "show off" his good luck to all his male co-workers.  Thinly disguised as having one of them take a group photo.  

During the boat float we did the usual: jump on giant trampolines in the water until the homeowners came out and shooed us off, stop at Arnold's Park for a quick roller-coaster ride, dance while wearing stick-on mustaches (yes, that's what Tyler's wearing in the first photo), and attempt to learn how to get back in the boat without a working ladder.  After the boating was more bars, and outdoor concert, and a surprise appearance from a pirate (okay, he was actually a Captain Morgan sales guy, but he did give out free hats to everyone at the bar).  

All in all, a successful party to celebrate the impending end of A-Star's single days.

Cruise Tip #3: how to swim a horse

Today we will give you instructions on how to "swim a horse."  In 10 easy steps.

Step #1: Realize that when the brochure says you will be swimming a horse, this means that you will be swimming a horse.  Not just gently prancing it across a shallow stream.  Dress accordingly.

Step #2: Try to ignore the fact that you look completely ridiculous wearing a bicycle helmet while riding a horse. Because, you know, they ran out of riding helmets.

Step #3: Find an idyllic river.

Step #4: Find a horse that can swim.  This one is important.

Step #5: Make sure that Mr. Miyagi is there.  He makes everything awesome.

Step #6: Learn to be trusting of the one-eyed Mexican cowboy who is going to be leading your horse into deep water.  Most likely he did not lose the eye in a horse-swimming accident.

Step #7: Make sure to be one of the first people to volunteer to swim the horse.  Because the horse just swims little circles in the same area and, eventually, the horse is gonna have to poop.  And you don't want to be the person swimming the horse in the water it just pooped in.

Step #8: Riding a horse bareback while it swims through the water is exhilarating.  And cold.

Step #9:  Make sure you point and laugh at all your friends and make fat jokes as the poor horse struggles to pull itself out of the water and up on the shore while carrying the extra weight.

Step #10: Enjoy your ride back to the horse corral while in damp swimclothes.  And also don't adopt the stray kitten hanging around the cowboy's camp.  No matter how cute.

Cruise Tip #2: rednecks like big fishes

For their birthday this year, Frick and Frack (that's my husband and his twin, in case you were having trouble following there) got to go on a fishing boat in Cabo with their friends Sleepy E, Wobbie, and Vegas.  It was Sleepy E's idea (shout out to him and the lady), and it totally rocked.

It wasn't supposed to be a whale-watching tour, but they got to see THIS:

And then, to top it all off, Chris caught a 160# Striped Marlin.  Well, it was really a collective effort, but Chris happened to be the one holding the reel at the time so he got the credit:

And of course there were the usual "beggars of the sea" hoping for handouts of fish:

After you catch the fish, they give you a couple of options.  You can keep it, or you can throw it back.  If you choose to keep it, you can either ship the meat to your house or donate it to the tour boat operators as part of their gratuity (so it doesn't go to waste).  But if you choose to keep it, after you've figured out what you want to do with the meat, you can then choose to HAVE IT MOUNTED AND MAILED TO YOUR HOUSE.  For a fee, of course.

Let's think about this for a minute, and see if you can figure out which option my husband chose.  And remember, this is the guy who wanted Big Buck Hunter in our front entryway. 

If you guessed, "MOUNT IT!" you guessed correctly.  In just a few weeks, plus fees and shipping and handling, we will be the proud owner of a 160# striped marlin to hang over the Big Buck Hunter game in our foyer.

This man needs a man cave STAT.  Before my foyer starts looking like a Bass Pro Shop.

Cruise Tip #1: Bring your own mustaches

Oh yes that's right.  I said mustaches.

You see, the thing about cruises is that there's a lot of time at sea.  And, aside from stuffing your face at the breakfast buffet, the 24-hour grill/pizzeria, the lunch buffet, the dinner seating, and the late-night buffet, the only other thing to do is drink, gamble, lay by the pool, visit the spa, or some combination of any of those. (There's also a fitness center, but who wants to go to THAT on vacation?!)

So our ingenious friends Sleepy E and Mrs. Sleepy (you may remember them from Prank of the Century and Revenge for Prank of the Century) brought some of those stick-on mustaches that make you look like a cheezy version of Groucho Marx.

And we all wore them.

To dinner.

Our dinner seating was right by the entrance to the dining room, so we got much hilarity from people who were waiting in line to be seated.  They would take a look, spot the guys in their fake black mustaches, then do a double take.  It usually took them a third look to realize that the ladies were wearing the mustaches too.

After dinner we wandered down to the casino.  We were already pretty tired of donating our money to the slot machines, so before we called it an early night I happened to see the perfect opportunity for my mustache to have one last hurrah.

Suddenly, we had invented our own game.  We started wandering the cruise ship, hunting out likely candidates for mustache placement.

First we found this pretty lady

And then Mr. Washington

The mustaches were the perfect size for these ladies

The towel animal mustache was inevitable

We started getting creative with the mustaches

Nothing was sacred...

unibrow!

giraffe!

Even the captain got a mustache

The best part?  Standing in line the next day at debarkation, and spotting your mustaches hidden on random objects that you passed.

Oh, yeah

As if I'd ever get a Lamborghini

The Husband and I are preparing to take a cruise for our anniversary this year.  Since I have an irrational fear of being completely disconnected from work, I was reading through the shipboard internet options to see how feasible it is to periodically check my work emails during our vacation, when I came across this polite-but-snarky blurb that demonstrates the cruise line's obvious frustration with people who complain about dumb things.  It's like if someone were to gift you a Lamborghini Reventon and the first thing you do is look at at and go, "Oh.. hmmm... gray?  I would've preferred it in red."  Well, then, let's just overlook the fact that it's worth over 1.6 million dollars and takes 3.3 seconds to reach 60 mph, and focus on the fact that you'd rather have it in a different color.

Not that someone ever tried to give me a Lamborghini.  But you get my point.

SO anyway, I've pasted below what the website actually says about the internet connection on cruise ship, and then taken the liberty of putting my own interpretation of how that really translates out.

What they say:

NOTE: Internet access via satellite is a significantly different experience than high-speed connections on shore. Onboard Internet access is not guaranteed at all times due to the nature of satellite communications, which are subject to occasional disruptions due to weather patterns and location.

Accessing E-mail and the Internet in the middle of the world's oceans is a triumph of cutting edge satellite technology. Our investment into this technology matches some of the most prestigious companies in the world, but even so it cannot be as fast as your home broadband. This is because the data must be transmitted over a slower wireless signal to satellites 22,000 miles above the Earth, which then bounce the data back down to the exchange. At home the data is sent down your fast cable connection to your local exchange, just around the corner from your house. We are continually reviewing our investment to secure you as fast a connection as possible and challenge fjords, glaciers and other grand geographical locations, to provide you with as seamless and consistent a service as possible.

What they really mean:

Internet access via satellite is a significantly different experience than high-speed connections on shore.
Stop complaining because your internet is slow.  We know it's slow.  We're in the middle of the ocean, in case you forgot.
Onboard Internet access is not guaranteed at all times due to the nature of satellite communications, which are subject to occasional disruptions due to weather patterns and location.
The internet has to ping off a satellite somewhere in outer space.  If there's things in the way like, say, heavy cloud cover, then you're not going to get service.  It operates off of electromagnetic waves, not magic.
Accessing E-mail and the Internet in the middle of the world's oceans is a triumph of cutting edge satellite technology. 
Hey, jackass.  Yes, you that's complaining about how you can't stream those YouTube videos and follow your Facebook friends (which, unless you're friends with Chuck Norris or this guy then it's a good bet you're doing something more exciting than they are right now.)  Again we remind you that you are ON AN EFFIN BIG BOAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN.
Our investment into this technology matches some of the most prestigious companies in the world, but even so it cannot be as fast as your home broadband.
We spent a sh*t ton of money on this beast.  Maybe your internet runs at speeds circa 1998 but let's remember, in 1998 the didn't have any internet in the middle of the ocean.  If you wanted internet, you didn't go on a cruise.
This is because the data must be transmitted over a slower wireless signal to satellites 22,000 miles above the Earth, which then bounce the data back down to the exchange. At home the data is sent down your fast cable connection to your local exchange, just around the corner from your house. 
In case you are really dense, let us spell it out for you that THIS IS A MIRACLE OF SCIENCE so SHUT YOUR TRAP and go buy yourself an overpriced drink.
We are continually reviewing our investment to secure you as fast a connection as possible and challenge fjords, glaciers and other grand geographical locations, to provide you with as seamless and consistent a service as possible.
Thanks to all the overpriced drinks you are buying while you wait for the latest People of Walmart photo to load instead of doing things like "enjoying your vacation" and "seeing unique sights you can't see anywhere else" and "exploring the world around you," we can afford to continue to try and provide you with this precious technology to the best of our ability.

Oh, yeah, and we do all this while also attempting to safely navigate a very large vessel through tricky geographical features and unpredictable weather conditions.  But, obviously, the boat part of this cruise is just a side note to you.  Heaven forbid your internet connection gets interrupted.

Why don't we just pull the Captain off of his duties navigating the ship and have him get right on fixing the internets for you.  He doesn't have anything more important to do, really.

Memoir Monday: when I make 2,220 people delay their vacation so that I can get a cup of coffee

I know it's not Monday.  But I have been wanting to do a Memoir Monday for so long and, well, Mondays are just not a good day for me.  So I am going to do a belated Memoir Monday, courtesy of Travis at I Like to Fish (that's his button over there -->).  If you'd like to check him out, and read some of the his Memoir Mondays and those contributed by his loyal followers, click on the button to the right.

And here we go, with my personal Memoir Monday....

Shortly after I moved to Arizona, my new friend SuzyQ and I planned a 3-day cruise from Long Beach, CA to Ensenada, Mexico. It was supposed to be a girl’s trip, but one by one people slowly backed out until all that was left was SuzyQ and myself. We decided to go anyway.

The drive from Phoenix to LA is about 6 hours, so we drove up the night before and stayed with my best friend in Laguna Niguel. That part went as planned.

The next morning we got up, with a whole day stretching before us. The cruise ship didn’t leave port until 5:30 that evening (with boarding starting at 5:00) so we had plenty of time.

That is, we would have had plenty of time had I not severely underestimated Los Angeles traffic. And the sad part? I had no excuse. I had lived in Los Angeles. I knew from experience the true level of brutality that is the Los Angeles freeway system.

According to Mapquest, the drive from Laguna Niguel to Long Beach could be accomplished in 42 minutes. 55 in traffic. Okay, so it’s 2pm on a Friday… we should be fine, right? Heck, we even have time to stop off in Irvine and meet an old college friend of mine for a cup of coffee.

Two hours and one cup of coffee later, I was starting to panic. I was stuck in gridlock on the 405, not even remotely close to Long Beach, and we were supposed to be there in less than an hour.

At 5:00, still stuck in gridlock somewhere around Huntington Beach, we called the cruise terminal. Explained the situation.

“Well,” they said, “As long as you can make it here before 5:30, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Said SuzyQ, her nerves and an empty stomach full of coffee getting the better of her.

“We’ll make it,” I assure her, not at all confident of that fact. “I used to live in Long Beach. I know those streets like the back of my hand.”

At 4:22, we exited the freeway into the east side of Long Beach. We had 8 minutes to make it to the far southwest end of Long Beach.

According to Mapquest, this can be accomplished in 21 minutes. We didn’t have 21 minutes, we had 8. I drove like a madwoman, using every back alley and side street I knew, and we arrived in front of the cruise terminal, tires squealing and engine smoking, in 7 minutes. Yes, seven minutes. I watched the clock on my dash change from 5:29 to 5:30 as SuzyQ went bolting to the terminal entrance while I pulled away to find a parking spot.

After parking, I met SuzyQ in the cruise terminal. She had a sad look on her face and a piece of paper in her hand.

“They won’t let us on. They’ve already pulled up the boarding walkway. The ship is getting ready to move away from port.”

I looked at the ship, still sitting placidly next to shore. “But it hasn’t yet, right? And didn’t we just spend the last twenty minutes calling them every five seconds to assure them that we would make it by 5:30? It’s 5:30!”

SuzyQ held up the piece of paper in her hand. “They gave us directions to meet the ship in Mexico.”

The directions went as follows:

Meeting The Ship in Ensenada

1. Walk over to the Queen Mary Hotel Entrance
2. Take a taxi to the local Greyhound
3. Take the Greyhound to Tijuana (Mexican Border) Central Bus Station
4. In Tijuana, Take the “ABC” bus line to Ensenada
5. In Ensenada you can check in after 8:00 at the Cruise Terminal
6. If you arrive early in Ensenada you may want to get a hotel until the morning (average arrival time for this trip is about 1a.m.)
7. Average price for the whole trip is about $30.00

Oh yeah right, two young ladies travelling alone are going to take the bus to Mexico so that we can arrive at the bus station in Tijuana at midnight, transfer over to the Ensenada bus, and then somehow try and find a hotel within walking distance of the bus station at 2am. Because I’m sure that a) the bus station is a hub for respectable people, especially in the middle of the night and b) hanging out in the cities of Tijuana and Ensenada between the hours of midnight and 2am is also quite safe.

Brilliant. That, obviously, was not an option. Backup plan? Tears.

After about five minutes of crying and ten more minutes of hapless employees referring us to slightly-higher-up hapless employees so that they could deal with the stupid crying girls, we met a man that told us the good news: they were putting the walkway back out so that we could board. The ship’s Chief purser had agreed to let us on the cruise.

We were hurried through embarkation process and ran across the walkway to the ship, dragging our luggage until finally we stumbled into the bright lights and subtle stuffiness of the inside of the cruise liner. Chandeliers were sparking warmly, people were milling about drinking cocktails, and we had never seen anything lovelier in our entire lives.

It was 6:00 pm. The ship was half an hour behind schedule. Because of us.

Once we had recovered from our near-disaster, we had a fun time with activities like horseback riding on the coast, eating, attending comedy shows, eating, participating in poolside games and enjoying adult beverages, buying knockoff designer sunglasses (me), eating, winning the no-buy-in shipboard poker tournament (SuzyQ), and taking pictures of random objects, such as:

phallic-looking door handles

towel animals

and wanna-be lucha libre dudes hanging out in the elevator.

We also found some time to chat up our fellow cruise-goers.

“You would not believe it,” we’d say, “we held up the whole cruise ship!”

They would chuckle and reply, “yeah, we were running a little late ourselves.”

SuzyQ and I would look at each other in silent communication, “You have no idea what we really mean when we say we were 'late for the cruise.'"

San Diego in the Summertime

Chris and I spent the Labor Day weekend in San Diego.  Well, Chris went fishing on Saturday and then I met up with him for the rest of the weekend.

I will start out with one thought:  Big Truck + Southern California = NOT FUN.  Try squeezing *your* 25-foot long F-350 around a U-shaped turn designed for a mini cooper, and see if you agree.  (It only took me about 15 minutes and a 20-point turn, by the wa y)

Chris caught some fishes on  his trip, about 7 of them to be exact.  (We need to start researching recipes for tuna!)  And then, to add a sense of irony to the weekend, we spent Sunday visting Sea World, where sea life is, predictably, not killed by sport fishermen.

We saw Sea Turtles:



Non-Edible Fishes (well, you could eat them but SeaWorld kind of frowns on that in their park):



Sea Lions:



Dolphins:



AND... as a very special treat... a baby dolphin that had just been born the day before. It was less than 24 hours old.



We saw Shamu, penguins, sharks, sting rays, and a lot of other sea life, etc etc.  We got to feed the sting rays and touch the pet-store variety sharks, which was fun.

SeaWorld also has a Clydesdale exhibit, which we were puzzled about for a while (umm, horses do not live in water, last I checked...) until we learned that SeaWorld is owned by Budweiser. Then it all made sense.

While in San Diego we also spent time at the beach, and managed to capture a beautiful sunset:



I could totally live there.  Well, that is, if I had a smaller car.

Ya Mon, No Problem

In reality, we were very lucky that it didn't rain on our wedding day. Not that there's anything we could have done about it anyway... as a wise local cab driver once said to us, "There is no special time for the rain." For us, that "special time" was exactly twenty-four hours after our wedding. Had we been married at the same time on the following day, there would have been a downpour during the ceremony. Any disappointment I had harbored about the moderately overcast sky during our ceremony was instantly wiped out at the realization of how easily it could have rained instead. A few clouds were nothing.

Jamaicans, in case you didn't know, run on their own time schedule. "Five minutes" can be five minutes or five hours, depending on the mood of the person, their opinion of you, the weather, how much ganja they may or may not have smoked, whether they get attacked by feral cats on their way, etc, etc. Anytime we requested something the response was always, "Ya mon, no problem."

"Ya mon, no problem," I have decided, is the perfect answer to every question. Basically, it's a "yes, of course... just give me five minutes. Five Jamaican minutes."

You may never get whatever it is you've asked for, but it's not their fault. They were totally going to get around to it. Eventually.

One of the other nice things about Jamaica was the fact that my blackberry did not receive internet data. No emails. For 9 days I was blissfully unaware of any and all electronic communications from work. And then, on that last day, we boarded the plane home. I got one last, beautiful, parting view of Jamaica:

About two hours later, we touched down in Miami. I pulled my blackberry out of my purse and looked at it in dread. Here it comes. A week and a half's worth of work emails. I half expected my phone to spontaneously combust from the effort of trying to simultaneously download all the emails that were sure to be waiting in internet limbo.

I turned on the blackberry. It was quiet for a minute. And then: pingpingpingpingpingping... I turned it to vibrate and put it back in my purse, letting it do its thing.

83 emails later, it was finally done uploading. Of those 83 emails, only two were spam and one was personal. The other 81 were all about work. We need this, can you send us that, please explain this, please submit that...

Now, if only I could use my newly found life philosophy. It would go something like this:

Work: We have received your ten-page analysis on the need for a new procedure X. However, we would like to have further detail. Please submit a twenty-page report with this additional detail.
Me: Ya mon, no problem.

Work: We have not yet received your twenty-page report. This is needed to approve the implementation of procedure X.
Me: Ya mon, no problem.

Work: We are still awaiting your report. Please tell us when we can expect to receive it.
Me: Ya mon, no problem.

And so on and so forth until I get fired or at least lose all credibility regarding my ability to meet a deadline. Bummer. Would have made answering those 83 emails a lot easier.