Feb 22 2010

I’m back

I tried to give B some space to finish posting what happened the rest of his trip, but I guess he didn’t feel like it. He made it back to work OK, but he didn’t wanna talk about it. He looks like he’s aged 10 years. On the flip side, he should be able to get into R-rated movies now without getting carded.

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Feb 15 2010

I survived a shark attack

They stopped near a little island somewhere in the Caribbean so we could go ashore and wander around (I guess they had already scoped the island to make sure there weren’t any cannibals or something). Me and the guys are just kind of hanging out there in the shallows taking in the scenery when I feel something scrape past my leg–IT WAS A TIGER SHARK!

You ever see those lizards that run on top of the water? Yeah, I totally did that. I made it all the way to the beach.

Now everybody calls me ‘chum.’

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Feb 14 2010

Paging B’s mom

I swear, this better be the last thing that goes on this cruise or I’m gonna do something felonious.

First, a story: one time when I was three I got separated from my mom in the store. I was cool, so I just walked up to the chick in the toy section and started talking about my Hot Wheels and how I was gonna be a cowboy when I grew up. I thought we were getting along pretty well and I was just about to share some of my crackers that I had stuffed in my overalls pocket when she goes, “What’s your name?”

“Hey,” I said, “I’m B.”

I’m just about to ask her name when I hear:


I look around, and then look back and it was–well, whatever her name was–making the overhead announcement. I never found out her name, because she sold me out and I was done talking to her. I just glared at her for the next minute until my mom showed up and gave me the usual lecture about wandering off and stuff.

So anyway I’m on the ship up on the recreation deck near the pool, chatting up some gorgeous babes when the ¬†Recreation Director comes up, and he’s all like, “Excuse me, young man, but this deck is for adults only.” He’s pretty nice about it, as nice as a guy can be when he’s interrupting me trying to get to know some ladies. Jerk.

The ladies think this is rather funny. But I’m cool about it. I’m like, “Hey, man, I happen to be a paying passenger on this cruise, so like, lighten up.”

It was an honest mistake, as I do have rather youthful good looks.

So then he’s like, “May I see your ticket please?”

So I roll my eyes and reach into my back pocket and pull out my hand–because I apparently left my wallet in my room. So I tell him, “Hey, it looks like I left my wallet in my room.” I’m just about to give him my room number and stuff when he goes, “What’s your name?”

“Hey, I’m B,” and then he reaches for his pocket CB or whatever those breaker-breaker things are called.


The girls ¬†think this is quite funny. After about a minute and a half my buddies show up. They’re doubled over, I figured because they got tore up, but no: they, along with the babes, are laughing at my misfortune. At least they convince Recreation Director First Class With Honors that I am, in fact, a legal adult old enough to run for the House of Representatives.

He felt real bad about it, and had the galley send me up a big bunch of shrimp and stuff, but it still didn’t bring the babes back.

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Feb 12 2010

I’m on a boat

This ship is great. If you’ve never been on a cruise ship, lemme ‘splain:

It’s big, man. I mean, it’s huuuuuuuge. Let’s just say its….must…resist…yo…mama…joke.

Anyway, it’s rather large. Everything is super clean, the fresh salt air is amazing, and it rides so smooth you pretty much can’t possibly get seasick.

The weather is pretty cool (for the Caribbean), the whole eastern seaboard having been hit with the snonami. It’s kind of cool, though, because a bunch of manatees are staying close to the ship trying to stay warm.

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Feb 12 2010

So glad to see a cab

The rest of the flight (after the initial weirdness) was uneventful. I got moved back to coach with my buddies and proceeded to overindulge in a little refreshment (can I say that on here, Mr. Poynter?). Anyway, by the time the plane hit the ground I had to be carried so I didn’t hit the ground.

The last thing I remember before I got in the cab to go to the cruise ship was seeing Princess Butterface all the way on the other side of the terminal. I saluted her with the loudest Bronx cheer evah and got in the car.

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Feb 11 2010

Who knew?

Apparently kissing an Air Marshal’s daughter is a chargeable offense. My trial date is April 15.

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Feb 11 2010

I am not a chubby chaser

So I had been reading Harry Potter to the Air Marshall’s daughter for over an hour (30 minutes on the tarmac, 3o minutes in the air) and man, my throat was dry. What do we have to drink? Milk, water, and Diet Sprite (Princess Butterface is underage, and as her “companion” I too am forbidden from getting a decent beverage).

So I quit reading. The Princess insisted that I continue. I politely declined, citing the aforementioned dry throat.

She started to narrow her eyes, but then she seemed to be just fine. I just sat back and rested for the first time this whole flight.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the Princess look down the aisle, almost like she’s watching for something. Finally curiosity gets the better of me and I lean over a little to see what she’s staring at. When I do, she spins around and puts a kiss-lock on me. I pull myself away just in time to see her dad, Air Marshal So-and-So, and he don’t look happy.

No wonder what she was watching for.

It looks bad for me, but what’s he going to do? Charge me with something for kissing his daughter?

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Feb 11 2010

I’m not doing it, AND I MEAN IT.

Chapter One

The Boy Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect….

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Feb 10 2010

I’m not doing it

I’m not doing it. I am NOT doing this. They led me to believe that this chick was totally hot, and it is not true. I am not reading Harry Potter to this girl.

So I pushed the button to summon the stewardess and she shows up and I ask her to please ask Air Marshal So-And-So to come here, as I would like to speak to him.

A few minutes later he shows up, all grins.

“What can I do ya for?” he asks.

I’m feeling pretty safe since we’re in the air now.

“Well, Marshall,” I start out politely, “I am not reading this book to your daughter.”



“Well, before you make yer final decision, I’d like ya to take a look at this.”

And with that statement he drops his newspaper in my lap.


They detained her?

And then he smiles.

I don’t care. I’m not doing it. I am not reading Harry Potter to this guy’s adult daughter.

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Feb 10 2010

Too good to be true

I promised Mr. Poynter I would keep these posts fairly clean since they’re on his blog, so it’s hard for me to find the words to express my. uncontrollable. rage. at. this. point.

Let’s just say that apparently if you model plus-size swimwear you are still technically considered a swimsuit model.

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