Dancing with the stars and biting angels
I did it! I won Dancing with the Sky Stars. One of our production singers had a friend cruising with him who is a professional dancer, currently performing in Chicago on Broadway and I really hoped I would get him as a partner …but I didn’t. Instead I was paired with an overweight middle-aged man. I was amazed we made it past the first round, let alone all the way to the finals and then when the professional did the splits during the can-can I thought that was it, we were out. It turns out even the Juilliard graduate’s disturbing stunt was no match for the awkwardness generated between myself and Wilfred. Nobody ever even cares about Dancing with the Sky Stars and the dancers dread doing it but, as you know, I’ve always wanted to do this well. - Except this time I didn’t care either.
I was going to call this blog “And then my cat died” but I didn’t think anyone would want to read that. The competition came just two days after I heard about the death of my Beast. I pulled something of a Katy Perry. If anyone has seen her concert movie you will know she was devastated by her break up with Russell Brand and balled her eyes out up until the moment she walked out on stage to perform. I was equally impressed and mortified by my own ability to hold it together. Just because she was small and furry doesn’t mean I loved her any less (Beast, not Katy Perry) than I would a human.
I’m still really sad about it, but only in crew areas because I have to be happy for a living which is a really hard part of my otherwise awesome job. On the ship there’s no time to slow down. I also got sick in the last few weeks and as soon as my temperature was gone it was back to work no matter how lethargic or nauseous I still was. It’s been hard. My ship family has been really awesome and supportive (especially my amazing roomie Christina) but I still have a lump in my throat and a cat-shaped hole in my heart that will probably be there a while.
Beast was the best cat in the whole world and it figures that if heaven needed a pet God would pick her. (I have blogged about her before.) At least there’s no electric fences for her to shock herself on, or vicious dogs she’ll need to be rescued from, and if she falls off anything and lands on her head it wont hurt (not “if” but “when”). Maybe she knew I went to go live in the Sky and thought she would join me? She’s probably playing on the beach in heaven that looks like Half Moon Cay with my unicorn right now. That or, as my brother who always knows just what to say suggested, biting Jesus. Don’t do that, Beast, he’s suffered enough!
For the last few days I’ve been walking around the ship with puffy eyes. I just figured maybe the guests wouldn’t know that my face doesn’t always look like that but I have received a couple of concerned looks. My friends helped me come up with a number of possible explanations for my face that don’t involve me having to tell the truth and therefore cry in public. At first I thought I would tell people that I was really sad that our Assistant Cruise Director is leaving us. (He is. Bye, Jasper.) Then one of the spa girls suggested I tell people I’m having an allergic reaction to my mascara. Eventually we decided we’d just say that Brad punched me in the face.
Here’s some highlights from the short life of the coolest cat that ever lived:
|Sitting on my lap|
|Taking a cat nap|
|Stuck in the tree|
|Watching Top Billing|
|Watching the larva lamp|
She left marks on the hearts (and limbs) of all she encountered.
In other news:
I got even higher in the sky
This circus trainer lady came on board and taught us how to walk on stilts. Tall ones. For about an hour. Not sure if we’ll ever do anything with that, but it was fun…
We’re just lost an awesome admin lady who actually reads my blog.
Bye Jayne! You will be missed. As will your Total Eclipse of the Heart from our karaoke lounge. Now who will type work orders when I break my cabin? Your replacement, I guess. But I won't sign my post-its to her as “Baby Spice” because she probably wont call me that. (Unless that was in your handover notes?) I guess it’s apt that you’re the one leaving us, Ginger.
26 cruises down, roughly 26 to go (Half way)
Number of tears shed in the last four days: 19,819,789