|"Hey Jon, does the cut of this uniform tucked into these boots gratuitously accentuate my package too?"|
Those halcyon days before Julie entered rehab, before Gopher joined the Republican Party, and long before I'd one day tune into VH-1 to find the influential role model of my tweenage years pointing his finger-guns at Carnie Wilson on Celebrity Fit Club.
|"You gonna finish|
Thirty-four years of syndication finds me still living my nautical fantasies vicariously and episodically. But hopefully not for long. Inspired by reading BosGuy's adventures, I've decided it's time to start planning a cruise vacation of my very own. And I want to do it soon, before anyone can mistake me for Captain Stubing and ask for a tour of the bridge.
Now even this landlubber knows there are really only two options when it comes to booking a cruise: Do I want a gay cruise, or a really gay cruise?
BosGuy chose the latter, apparently, but me? I find myself conflicted. On the plus side, I'd feel more comfortable knowing I'm probably not only guy on the boat who gets a reflexive chubby when he hears "all hands on deck". And I've always wanted to use terms like "port", "starboard" and "sheepshank" in proper context without getting confused looks from my sex partner(s).
The down side of a gay cruise, as far as I can tell, would be the drama. If I'm going to spend my hard-earned money on an expensive vacation, I wanna milk it. So when it's over and I get back home, I want it to be all about me... my souvenir tee-shirts; my multi-media montage tastefully set to "In The Navy"; my rockin' tan lines or lack thereof; and – best of all – my dozen or more titillating and/or embarrassing anecdotes.
And when I'm telling my anecdotes, the last thing I want is to be constantly interrupted over and over again by people asking about that dude who went overboard.