enJOY it

Please consider this more of a forward, a prologue if you will.  This is the part that comes before the epic novel where the author acknowledges all the people that made the book possible and also discusses how the book originated.  So here we go.  Hold your breath, Rose.

I am having a lot of trouble developing the title for the cruise post. The options are endless:

• Spring Break 2007 Comin’ Atcha.
• Opaque is the new Boozin’.
• My Friends Can Outdrink Your Friends.
• "We Saw Dolphins!"
• Fiber 101
• Would You Rather Eat Your Way through the Lido Deck or Take Jaeger Shots?  And also you have eight kids.  And you are poor.  With one leg.
• Karaokesucks.com.mx
• "See you at Luke’s!"

And then, even once I have picked a title, how am I going to begin to capture the week?  It sort of feels like a big joke that made me laugh, made me cry (only twice and I blame alcohol and bright lights for both), stole my voice, filled me with liquor and dyed my skin tan.

Sort of like the best joke ever.

But this would be a lame forward without my thank yous.  Because I have about 651 of them.  First, to all the staff at Princess Cruise Lines, including, but not limited to, the guy that sold me my soda card, everyone that walked around with water, the people that set out the deck chairs, the people that called and apologized to us that we had received a noise compliant, and the dealers at the casino who did not kick me and Billiam out.  And of course, a special shoutout to Alex, the president of the Princess Cruise Maid Mafia who knew exactly what we wanted before we even wanted it.  And Peter for being the best Roulette player and representative of the strong but silent secret society.  And Butch who was celebrating his 30 year anniversary who kept the drinks comin’.  And all the randoms, including but not limited to What-Goes-Around-Comes-Around, whom we laughed at, not with.

And my girls.  My fiber-loading, non-sunscreen wearing, 40’s drinking, shrimp-cocktail eating, craft-drawer supporting, backup-dancing, power-houring, limbo-pole-wearing, shoving-fruit-in-their-swimsuits girls.

Sort of like the coolest girls ever.  We’re hot, ‘cus we’re fly.  You ain’t ‘cus you not.