Sullivan Interview Part one

So as promised I’m going to reveal the hidden Natalie Sullivan interview on our time on the spirit. Natalie is a great cast mate and better friend. Thanks again for letting Jamie and me spend the night at your place. Since the room I was in, in the second city apartment was deemed:” Too hot to f***”. Although the phrase “too hot to f***” became the first bit of my new cast. Once again my bit creation rate remains high. If you get the chance please check out Natalie’s blog. Natalieyachtrocks.blogspot.com. It is far superior to my blog in most ways. (Note: Mom, Dad you probably should just skip over this posting. It’s going to be another one of those.)

While I love profiles where I just give my thoughts on people, Natalie loves interviews where she lets people give their thoughts on themselves. She interviewed all the ladies in our cast including James, but due to time constraints and a Lost marathon it was believed she never got around to interviewing myself and Shawn aka Ma-sheen. The truth is that she did in fact do those interviews. She just never posted them. Why, would she do that? Because the content of said interviews was controversial at best and life shattering for some individuals at worst. The interviews were so shocking that I had put a mental block on them. I did not recover these memories until I had read a book about a dentist who was working with the police to catch a serial killer and it turns out she had repressed memories and then through the course of the book she regained here memories. The book made me think what if I had repressed memories.

So instead of overreacting I used the ship phone (which costs $8 a minute) and called James’ Dad who had hypnotized me once before to help me quit smoking. I waited on hold for 45 minutes and then asked him to hypnotize me over the phone to see if I had any repressed memories. He was dubious at first, due to the fact something like that would take 4 and half hours of hypnosis. I explained how important it was, and finally he agreed. I got myself comfortable on the reception desk, and let myself be guided into a deep hypnotic trance. Seven hours later a memory was recovered, a memory of an interview on the Spirit with one Natalie Sullivan. James’ Dad and I discussed this for another three hours. I wondered why Natalie had never mentioned the interview; James’ Dad suggested maybe she had blocked it from her memory too. I asked if I could find and post the interview if it would be therapeutic for everyone involved. James’ Dad felt that it could very well be very damaging and I should leave it alone. I argued that if it was an interview about me, then the damage done to others was insignificant compared to my need to keep putting stuff in my blog. He then asked how many people actually read my blog, I informed him about four. He then asked me if my narcissism was worth permanently damaging four people. I was glad he finally saw things clearly and I promptly hung up with him, and worked out a plan on how to get that interview.

If Natalie didn’t remember the interview she might still have the notebook she used in her apartment. Remembering how Natalie accumulated stuff throughout our first cruise she might not have even finished unpacking. I remembered the notebook well. It was pink with a duck and a rabbit serving each other tea. Underneath the picture it read, “Friendship is always having enough lumps of sugar, because friendship is so sweet.” I think Katy had given her the notebook. (Gross. The notebook…not Katy) I then called one of my few friends left in Chicago; I won’t use his real name here so I’ll just call him Ttam Nolnacs. I asked him if he would be wiling to break into her apartment and steal the notebook. He told me, he had hockey practice and wouldn’t be able to do it. I was at a loss. If I couldn’t find someone who would commit a felony out of blind friendship how was I going to get that interview? I racked my brain thinking of other people I might know who would help me that lived in Chicago. I called my older brother and asked him but he informed me that he was suiting up to go to an event where people pretend that they are their dungeons and dragon’s characters for real and then beat the hell out of each other with nerf bats. I thanked him anyway, and he proceeded to keep talking about the event. I tried to thank him again, but he kept talking. He mentioned how one guy at this event had worn corduroy pants. “Can you imagine!?” He cackled with delight “A tree elf chieftain wearing corduroy? We could hear his pants swishing from a mile away!” I pretended there was static on the line and hung up. Then like a lightning bolt a thought hit me. Corduroy pants! There was someone I knew in Chicago who would be willing to break into an apartment to find out more about Natalie Sullivan! So I called this assistant presidential type person to help me. It took awhile to get him to remember who I was, so I asked him to put me on hold while he called Los Angeles and asked about my rep (I also instructed him not to call James about it, because he wouldn’t give an honest answer) an hour later he did remember me and asked what I was doing. I told him he had hired me to do another ship, and that I needed his help. I explained what I wanted him to do. I could hear his corduroy swishing as paced his office mulling my offer over.

“All right, I’ll do it, but any poon-ties I find I keep. Deal?” he asked curtly. “I guess?” I was unsure how to respond not knowing what poon-ties were. “Look if you want this done, I keep the poon-ties! I don’t want to hear you bitching that I didn’t send poon-ties along with this fucking notebook that is so important to you.” “What are poon-ties?” I asked as innocently as I could. I didn’t want to piss him off because I was hoping maybe he would have more work for me in the future. Although the fact he said poon-ties in a Transylvanian accent unnerved me. “Yeah, like you don’t know what poon-ties are?” He scoffed. ‘No.” Was all I could think to say. “Poon-ties, poon-ties, you know squirrel covers, pussy turbans, panties!” He screamed. “I keep whatever of her panties I find. Got it?” Came the snarl at the other end of this very expensive call. “Oh right, yeah sure, go crazy take what you want. I only want the notebook. Uhmm. Why do you call them poon-ties?” I asked. “ Why do you call them over-vaginalls?” He quickly retorted. “I don’t.” I said. “Well you should it would be fucking funny if you did. I’ll need another man on this. Which means less poon-ties for you.” He barked. “I just want the notebook, I’m not interested in her over-vaginalls.” I giggled in spite of myself. “See it’s funny.” He said. “Me and my partner will split the poon-ties down the middle, you keep the notebook.” “Fine.” I said. “Who are you going to use on the job?” “No real names.” he said, “Lets just call him Cricket.” “OK.” I responded. “Call him whatever you want just get me the notebook.” I was losing patience. “Fine. Fine.” he said. “I bet she has a mountain of poon-” I hung up before he could finish.

This all took place my first week on the jewel, now almost three weeks later I’ve received a call from the personnel office. They have informed me that 1.the notebook has arrived 2. They’ve heard about me from the spirit and security is keeping an eye on me 3. There is a hair clog in the water slide and I am a primary suspect. I’ve run down and gotten the notebook, left a threatening note with accounting to shut their fucking mouths, and taken a spin down the water slide. I am now ready to present to you the Lost Natalie Sullivan Interview…..

Jan 15h, 2008 11:28 pm Majarini’s

Spotlight on Peter Fluet! (pronounced flu-way) Peter “chi chi” Fluet is our other cast member from the City of Angels. Peter is the second of the three men (I use the term loosely) in my cast whom I will be interviewing. Peter is the only married person in the cast and his wife Jamie will be coming soon. Peter loves comic books, Lost, drawing cartoons, Teramasu and his wife. He picks me up in Bagpipe and has quite the rep in Los Angeles. Does he have thoughts in his head lets find out!!

Natalie: So Peter I notice that you’re drinking a diet coke. What a surprise.

Peter: Yeah, I probably drink too much of this stuff. I find that it helps fill my gas tank with be…

N: Beans. Yeah. We know you’re full of beans. You helped create Gonzales Arrives, you have a wife and you like comic books. You’re fucking awesome.

P: Uhhh yeah. Did we want to talk about any of that stuff?

N: No. Well thanks for taking the time to talk to me. Next week Shawn! Go smoke another cigarette Fluet.

P: So that’s it?

N: That’s it.

P: I’m getting the sense you didn’t really want to do this.

N: No this was super fun. Oh look it’s my real friend Jenna. Hey Jenna.

P: She can’t hear you. She’s going down on a gallon bottle of Barcardi. Does the shortness of this interview have anything to do with Roatan? You’ve been acting funny ever since we left.

N: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

P: Natalie stop writing this all down.

N: No. I need to write it down. I need it on a paper. That way its real.

P: Stop writing!

N: No I have to keep writing. Something happened in Roatan I have to expose the truth. Oh my god, I remember now….I remember….

P: So you do remember Roatan. Unfortunate.

Where am I? We were in Majarini’s. Oh God, we’re in a crew stairwell. No cameras. I should stop writing and come up with a plan.

P: I’m sorry about knocking you out with the nerve pinch. You should really stop writing. I can talk you through this.

N: TALK ME THROUGH THIS? I SAW YOU KILL THOSE PEOPLE!

P: Would it help if I told you those twenty-three men in Roatan weren’t good people.

N: No. Murder is murder. You’re a murderer.

P: I’m a patriot.

N: Go to hell.

I kick him in the balls. He wasn’t expecting it. I’m free. Fuck. I’m lost. Why weren’t we put on the crew manifest? I have no idea where I am on the ship. Just stop here. Hide behind this pallet of Colombian Emeralds. In case I don’t make it out of here I should tell my story. The last time we were in Roatan I witnessed my cast mate Peter Fluet gun down twenty-three men at an internet café just off the port. I didn’t even know he was off the ship. He claimed he was having accounting problems again. I had gone into port hoping to find a hammock at a bargain price but the incessant heat and the kids pestering me for dollars made me cut my trip short. I had just taken a picture of a goat with a squirrel on its back. I had just come up with a great one liner to go along with the picture and decided to post it on my blog. The internet café was just a room on the second floor of a realty building. Usually tourists flock there because there is a bar adjacent to the internet café. I didn’t even notice that the place was barren. I think there were some kids telling me not to go up there. I thought they were just asking for more money. Now I know they were lookouts for Fluet.

Fluet where is he? Do I smell the reek of cigarettes? He might be close. Just finish this and hide the notebook. So I walked up to the door of the café and I heard Fluet on the other side of the door. I burst in to greet my friend and show him my emperor squirrel picture. What I found was twenty three men between the ages of 20 and 60 bound and gagged on the floor of the internet café. Fluet’s lumbering pacing was the only sound in the room. He turned and saw me, his eyes rolled and he pointed a gun at me. “Close the door.” He said. I couldn’t speak. I just closed the door. Trying to make sense of it. There was someone else standing in the corner, but I can’t remember his face. Fluet almost seemed to defer to him for advice on what to do next. I can still hear the booms of the gunshots. He shot those men as calmly as he was throwing darts into a board. He had to reload three or four times to get the job done. When he was finished he turned and smiled a sad smile.” What do you expect Natalie? I’m full of beans. You should know what that’s like.” Then the figure in the corner came forward and I don’t remember anything else. In fact I didn’t start remembering again until this morning. We were doing some bit me and James, and then suddenly the memories started flooding back. I think James started crying I’m not sure. I immediately had to run to my room to vomit. Then Fluet came and insisted on the interview. Why didn’t I run and tell someone? I think because I didn’t want to believe it, that maybe it was dream. It’s not a dream. I’m trapped on a boat with a psychopath. Oh God, he’s coming. Mom, Dad I love you.

More pictures as well....

http://www.secondcity.com/?id=touring/ncl/jewel/image


Some more photos on the second city site. Hard core jewel cast, jesus on car, and more cowboys.

Here comes the pictures

I promised it, now here it is. Photos of the last few weeks. Highlights include cematary beach in Grand Cayman, Tortola home of sad horses, dogs on roofs, and a whale museum. The quiet streets of Somala. St. Paddy's day celebration, and all the best improvisers have cowboy issues. not to worry in the next few days we'll be back to our regular scheduled program of dense writing.

I hate technology

So today was supposed to be the big picture day. Sitting in Senor Frog's enduring the hell of this pace because its internet connection is good enough to download pictures relatively fast. So I'm all set I plug the camera into the computer and..nothing happens. No download of pictures. I check my connections and they seem fine, the camera is on. yet nothing. Which means on friday I have to find a camera shop to get a new plug.

So for now I'm kind of at a loss on what to write about. I have stuff written that would go with the pictures, but without them it makes no sense.

I will keep working on it and maybe before I need to get back on the ship I can get it resolved.

Not a lot happening this week. Easter was depressing in Miami. The port area is worthless, they have malls. Malls without book stores, haven't seen a movie theatre. Its just a lot of chintzy shops.

So things to look forward too. My picture issues getting resolved. Some more insight into the norwegian jewel experience. Or as I like to call it the tempest. Also cast profiles, I just love to profile. Also if you were reading previously on my spirit experience you might have come across Natalie Sullivan's great blog. Yachtrock. She had done a bunch of interviews yet mine never appeared. Don't believe her when she says we ran out of time. My interivew was so explosive it was not posted, against the warning of many people including a few heads of state and the shadowy orginizations that keep those heads of state in line. My interview with Natalie will be posted here.

New islands

Short post today. I'm in Somala beautiful british virgin island and yesterday I was in Tortola not quite as nice island. As usual internet connections very slow but tons of pictures will be forthcoming.

We have another four days until our next show so the cast and I are just getting to know each other.

Quick rundown of last week....

Leaving chicago at 4am worst thing ever. Until....

We tired to get on the ship in Miami. Long, long, wait with a bunch of tired people and I had no smokes. We create a new bit called "breaking point." We all hit it at one point or another.

The ship is huge and confusing. Some of us in crew cabins, some in passenger. I end up with the first shift of having my own room.

We find out our first show is tuesday. Hooray a day and a half to rehearse a somewhat complicated show that relies heavily on physical bits timed to music.

Don't even leave the ship in cazumel. Try desperately to get a handle on lines.

Show night. Everything goes almost without a hitch. Our easel in pictionary completley falls apart and my role of angry husband transforms into slightly abusive husband as I yell at my wife to hold the pad over her face so I can't see the laughter in her eyes. Both sketch shows though end with standing ovations. Nice.

We had to write our own blackouts one of mine works great the other I wrote gets cut because the picture people weren't dressed as pirates in cazumel.

it's spring break week, so a lot of twenty somethings acting like idiots.

See the show Band on the Run. It opens with a pre-recorded message from Florence Henderson talking about the music of the seventies and ends with a bunch of people on stage wearing dog collars and leopard print jackets singing we will rock you. My mind is blown out of the back of my skull.

Went to Grand Cayman and a wonderful beach called cemetary beach about fifteen people including us were there. Did some snorkeling. Very relaxing.

On the way to Cemetary Beach an even uglier american than myself sits next to me in the cab and proceeds to bitch about everything. My cast and I imitate and mock him for the next week.

Scriptless shows. The first one was weak. We never really found our footing and it was a very meh show, We rally for the second show and once again get standing ovations. Drunk spring breakers love us, and the word douchebag.

I get invited to do a game show called liars club. Seems like it will be fun. I am part of a panel including one of my cast mates Ali and the cruise director and assistant cruise director. When no one laughs at assistant cruise directors joke he starts telling the audience how stupid and retarded they are. Then he and the cruise director get into a battle of words which just turns ugly. I pray that at any moment people in dog collars and leopard coats will start singing we will rock you and save me.

We say goodbye to our director and producer. We are now on our own. Europe beckons.

The first two days.

I promise I'll talk about my cast more soon.

3/4/08

So for the first time ever I’m really, really, comfortable on an airplane ride. Not to say that I don’t enjoy flying. I do, I really do. The problem has been that being as tall as I am, and broad shouldered I often feel cramped on these flights. Worried to take up to much space, worried that whomever is sitting next to me isn’t quietly cursing their bad luck to be seated next to a large person. I realize that is mostly my mind at work, but some things just become so ingrained. Such as being polite to whomever is sitting next to me. Today, though I have no one sitting next to me, in fact no one is sitting on either side of me. Whomever was supposed to be sitting in seats 14E and 14 F never showed, so for the first time ever I have a row to myself. It’s a nice way to start the second leg of my trip. With karma showing itself so blatantly, reminding me to keep my attitudes positive and my mind open.

You see earlier this morning when I arrived at the airport I went to Starbucks and placed my usual order of a venti mocha. I figured coffee would be a good thing considering how little sleep I had gotten the night before, and plus I had at least two hours to kill before my flight took off. So anyway I place the order and stand like a rat waiting for a pellet at the end of the counter. When an older woman, African American, wearing a very fancy scarf and sweater. Rushes up beside me and places her rather large purse on the pick up counter. She basically starts emptying out the contents of her purse all over it. I sighed heavily in mind. It seems when people travel they forget about most of the common courtesies. I don’t know if its because we focus so much on the the hassle of getting through security, finding our gates, and trying to convince ourselves the full to bursting bag should be considered a carry on. So this woman whom I’m sure was trying to find something drastically important in the fulfillment of her reaching her flight was forgetting that people needed to pick up their coffee from that counter. She hunted through packs of gum business cards, and hair clips finally finding five crumpled singles. She smiled at me broadly. I wasn’t sure why she needed the five bucks considering we all should have already paid before reaching the pickup counter, but I’m sure she had her reasons,

She held the five dollars tightly in her fist and swept everything else back into her purse in a single graceful motion. As if she was an old hand at vomiting up her life in public places, and then adeptly re-ingesting it back again into the black hole of her purse. The kind girl with the sad eyes, of someone who works in an airport starbucks politely called out. “VENTI MOCHA, UP!” I put down my bag and jacket so that I could receive my purchase and as I stood up I was greeted with an amazing sight. The woman was still smiling broadly at me, as she threw down the five dollars, grabbed MY mocha, threw that same smile to our disinterested barista, told her “keep the change!” and proceeded to quickly walk away with my mocha. I dumbly said “hey!” and she called back over her shoulder “thank you, sorry for the incovenience!”

WHAT THE FUCK? Was what the look both me and my barista shared. I briefly thought about chasing her down grabbing my mocha, throwing her to the ground, and then throwing the mocha, in her face. Was their really a person that existed that felt so self important that they could kidnap my coffee. Not even most of the people who grace the cover of US Weekly seemed that bold, and yet this woman had done just that. Should I punish her presumption, should I make a scene, a scene so large that it would make the final report in the evening news. The kind of reports that show the silly side of human life, where some guy has a woman arrested for “stealing(?)” his coffee. The more I thought of doing it the more ridiculous it seemed. I had two hours to go until my flight, almost a week to go until I got on the boat, and almost five months to go before I was home again where I could have a venti mocha that I could feel so protective of. Why bother hunting down a woman who needed caffeine more than I did. I simply showed my barista, my receipt, and within two minutes (two minutes where all she could talk about was how unbelievable that the woman had just done what she did, and I just nodded agreement not wanting to explain that as far as weird things in my life this hardly makes the top thirty) I had another mocha. I had been slightly inconvenienced and I feel now as I stretch my legs leisurely like a Persian cat on a leather sofa that patience, and kindness are truly sometimes rewarded.

Now if I could just get this bitch stewardess over here to give me another diet coke. Doesn’t she know who the fuck I am and that I have things to do?

3.5.08
So technically its now 3/6/08 but why quibble over numbers, I’ve met my cast and as far as I can tell I’m in very good shape. Don’t get me wrong I’m still horrible at meeting new people, and I harbor the suspicion that this new cast can’t really stand me. I’m sure I’m wrong but who knows we still have four months together. The apartment we’re staying at is once again amazing. It makes me hope that maybe just maybe I might get asked to perform in Chicago and stay in one of these places longer than a week. I am truly blessed. The apartment is great, the people are better (even if they secretly hate me). We did an hour meeting today and that was all we had to do. So I bought comic books and then watched a zombie movie which was delightfully bad. Once again totally blessed to have seen diary of the dead. WATCH IT! JUST FOR THE GUY WHO PLAYS THE FILM TEACHER. HE IS LIKE A GOOSE LAYING GOLDEN EGG AFTER GOLDEN EGG!

So the more important portion of today resides in me reconnecting with my oldest friend. I am ashamed to say in the last few years we haven’t spoken nearly as much as we should and I feel I am mostly to blame for that. What with being busy with shows and being married I feel like I have neglected one of my best friends in the world. I spent the evening with him and I realized just how long I’ve known him. TWENTY FUCKING YEARS!!!!! You know anyone that long, much less experienced what the two of us have experienced together (completely heterosexual hi-jinks of the highest order) and you realize how important those touchstones to your past are. Frankly my memory is so horrible that I could not name ten people I went to high school with, but thankfully I have that one person who is a key to the person I was that makes the roadmap to who I am so much clearer. I won’t go into to much detail but we went to a bar that we were practically the only patrons in and we were able to happily wallow in our past, and realize even though to the casual observer that our life paths are completely different, that we as human beings all go through the same shit. I love my friend now more than I think I ever have. Because his life is changing and in some ways he is so completely new to me and yet he reminds me of who I have been, and by who I have been I mean some of the best parts of who I am that I should always hold on to,

I’m two days in to this new experience and I’m extremely glad I’m here. Only because I am visiting myself from ten years ago, and realizing that I wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

Here I Go Again

Two Weeks? How the hell can two weeks be done already? How can I already be heading back to the cold of Chicago, to leave my wife, my home, and my friends for another four months? It seems ridiculous. The two weeks were just a blur of working at the health club again and seeing friends and family. Oddly enough most of whom had so few questions about my prior adventures that I ended up feeling like an ass most of the time saying things like "well on the boat", "Oh my gosh, one time on the boat." I assume it was because they didn't want to think about me leaving again, or maybe its just the way we are in California, or maybe they knew that any story I would tell would take up like four hours of their time and lets face it my friends need to sleep.

So here I sit having to be up in four hours but not able to sleep. I'm never able to sleep before these things. What will the new cast be like? What will the show be like? What will the boat be like? Have I made a huge mistake? Am I doing something great and as usual am just afraid? I assume its the last or that maybe just maybe I'm a little bit excited about this new adventure.

To anyone that reads this. I promise to try to be more diligent in my posts and to try to make more sense. For those of you who do read this blog, I will see you soon. To those who do not I will appear again in July.