"Cruising" sans T-Pain

Crumpled in bed watching back-to-back episodes of Spongebob, I feel obligated to make something of this day (considering I’ve allowed the past few to rest idly in between my self-made imprints upon my bed). Perhaps this lackadaisical nature—though consistent with my general lifestyle, feels a bit amplified at present—is due to the effects of that dang cruise! Let me explain…

The cruise was outrageously corny (which no doubt I will elaborate on later) and filled with 6,000 people. The two things I hate most: misdirected campiness and people. That being said… The cruise was all you can eat!!! Words cannot do justice to the experience; the prepaid buffet for every meal was simply phenomenal. Needless to say, I ate my feelings.

Now I’d like to expand on the level of cheesy entertainment forced upon me while trapped on the boat. At the height of it all was the performance by a Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons tribute band. Yes, such a thing exists. Four middle-aged nerds dressed in tuxedos over purple shirts with two buttons undone to convince the audience they had a debonair swagger. But I’m no fool! In front of a bedazzled purple curtain, they danced like choreographed crackheads. They bounced, shook and wiggled all with a maniac smile that glistened from their own self-obsession. In between the contrived renditions, the group tried to entertain with awkward anecdotes of which the relevancy was lost on me. One member in an overworked jovial tone spoke about his frustrations with the dating scene. How difficult it was for him to find the “right woman” … Eesh, based on all the glitter and purple, I can solve that problem!

One dance after another, including a flippant—and therefore all the more horrifying—provocative dance for a memaw, weakened my constitution as I sought solace in the imminent end. Finally the group, after completing their seemingly endless set list, stood at the front of the stage bowing, clapping (for themselves…) and waving. As the applause died a slow and painful death, the group continued to stand on stage with their eager positions and toothy smiles. They were awaiting an encore!! The nerve! Once an uncomfortable silence swept the theater, some idiot in the back squeaked, “Encore?” To no one’s surprise—or delight—the tribute band snatched back their microphones and regained the bounce in their step… It was a poor man’s Vegas show.

I’m sorry but I’m just too classy for that shiz.