Tanned, Relaxed, and Ready to Post

Hi kids. You didn't think I'd let 2005 slip away without one more post on the Wonder Blog did you? If so you've sorely misjudged the importance I place on symbolic dates. I'm proud of you all, not one "where the hell is Scott" comment. I conjure that's mostly because I'm seeing a nice chunk of you in person and you know damn well where I am. And also, people are out living their lives. But I think the real reason is because you respect my privacy. As an S-list celebrity I really appreciate fans that can respect me that way. In fact, there were only a few paparazzi. I think I'll show you a few of their shots.

Somehow they took one of me, inside the apartment. That's just such an invasion of privacy it's scary. Even worse, they had the screen flipped out to the side so I could see how good I looked. I ended up not even looking into the camera because I was so enthralled by my own visage. Bastards! But reguardless of how boyishly good looking I come off, there is a fire in me that is radiating heat, and a message. That message? F- cold weather. I punch it in the face.

As such, I blew off the Midwest and its frigid winters for the sunny Caribbean aboard the good ship ms Westerdam. There it is. The bastards snapped a shot of it when it was anchored off a private island. On the right of the photo (port of the ship) you can see one of the lifeboat "tenders" I took to shore.

Earlier in the vacation I had visited here. Sunny St. Thomas. Who knew it was the real life home of the Sealab? I kept saying omnious things, but no matter what I said the thing wouldn't blow up at the end. That's why they make the big bucks at the bottom of the sea I guess...

However, in no way does that mean that I can't visit the bottom of the sea myself. Hey self, lookin' good. At that point I was Neptune, LORD OF THE SEA. You know nothing of my work! Sealab 2021 jokes abounded, but because there were no radios, no one could hear me. I took full advantage of this and propositioned the professional diver, there to keep an eye on us. She could keep more than that on me. Come to think of it, I hope she can't read lips. I had a gaye old time of it. Jumping up and down on the bottom of the ocean, held down by the incredibly heavy bell on my head (the thing weighs about 80 pounds out of water). It was basically moon physics, so I did the Neil Armstrong thing and hopped about. Sadly the hot diver lady shut me down with head shake and a wagging finger of amused dissaproval. I almost smote her (LORD OF THE SEA, remember?) but I decided she was just hot enough to escape punishment.

Later that day, we decided to rent hardcore, manly motorcycles. And by that, I mean scooters. Those things booked though; Ross with the only functional dashboard, told us we topped out at about 80 kph/50mph. Not too shabby. Here, we're lost. But we're in St. Thomas, who the hell cares?

After a successful navigation back to the ship before it left us (narrow window that was), we had a nice dinner onboard ship. It was a formal night, so that meant suits and ties. Bleh. But at least I look sexy, so it's hard to hate the nights completely. I really liked how seriously the old folks took it. Quite a few tuxedos abounded, and I started to feel a bit underdressed. Then I noticed that no male under the age of 50 was wearing one and relaxed. "But Scott, we know you ate dinner. Why include a picture?" Well, I just like how dumb my brother looks in it.

The next day we chartered a sailboat. The Random Wind. It was quite a day. Free rum punch, beer, soda, and food. Not to mention getting to sail the boat. It was really relaxing, and a great way to escape all the elderly people on our cruise, none of them could stomach the high seas. We went snorkleing, and swimming at each place we stopped. At one point a lady's shirt blew overboard. Being the strapping young LORD OF THE SEAS I am, I decided to hop overboard and go get it. It had sank bottom and that meant about 15-18 feet where we were. So I strapped on some fins and a mask and went after it. Little did I know I would come face to face with the lord of all bony fish... a barracuda. We squared off he was swimming past the shirt, and I wanted the shirt. The situation was comming to a head.

For a moment we stared each other down. Then, after talking with the fish for a moment, we realized that we knew some of the same people, and that we liked each other pretty well. So he went his way, and I grabbed the shirt; returning to the surface the shirt in my fist broke the water first, followed by the rest of my glorious body. A cry went up. I was a hero, and the button up was safe for another day. My reward? Free beers... that were already free.

I also made a sport of rescuing starfish from certain destruction at the links of the anchor chain. Same depth. Only the starfish cheered me this time.

A quick picture of Ross and I the second time we rented scooters on Tortolla. See how his leg is wet? That's because I, inadvertantly, ran him off the road and nearly into a cliff. It's really his fault for comming up on my left. I chalk it up to the crazy British practice of driving on the left. I fully realize that doesn't explain how it got wet. He got muddy when he went off road, it was just after the daily downpour, so he washed off in the sea. There. Now you know.

Another formal night. I'm a bit trashed here. You might be able to tell. I'm drinking a Flaming Gunther with a straw for the love of Neptune! I dubbed it the Flaming Gunther because it's a coffee drink with lots of alcohol in it that was set on fire. Flaming for the alcohol and fire, Gunther for the coffee. Brilliant.

Faceplant!

I think this one is pretty clear. I'll leave it at that.

Here I am flying my kitesurfing kite. I had a pretty good time when the wind was cooperating. Sadly, that didn't last as long as I would have liked.

I was getting tricky and clipped the water with the edge of my kite. Had the stunt panned out a little better I was sure to fly several feet into the air. Instead, I got the pleasure of advice from 80 year old tourists about how I should try to keep it in the air and a smarmy look from my brother.

Here's another from our last formal dinner on the ship. Is is the name of the Filipino toy soldier between Ross and I. He was the mint guy who handed out after dinner mints, he was really funny. "Yummy yummy for your tummy" he was awesome enough to not sound dumb as he said that. Also, the dude was always happy. Huge smile, childish glee all the time. Why are Ross and I looking so happy? Well the merry mint-er tickled the hell out of us just as the flash was going off.

And here we have a typical scene at the end of the day. Beautiful sunset, ships comming and going at the laziest pace immaginable, a nice mixed drink in my hand. Is there anything better?

That's all suckas!

You made it to the end. Congratulations. You get a picture of me. This one isn't paparazzi, it's a Wonder Blog exclusive. Cherish it. And Happy New Year.

- Scott