MathGirl
Cogito
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2002
- Posts
- 5,825
Well, I simply must tell you about a few things that happened before the trip through that canal thing. We were at this little island of San Blas for several hours the day before. Before we did the canal thing, I mean. San Blas is located over on the other side of everything, you know. Two or three little islands off the coast of Panama. I suppose Panama owns them, but I have no idea why they would want to. It's a weird place, that San Blas, and I don't need to tell you what that means! Huh! Enough said! And if things were not bad enough already, they shit in the ocean. Yep, straight from the old butt hole to the ocean with a plop. I had no more gotten off the little boat that carried us ashore when I saw a graphic display. There was this wooden pier thing going out into the ocean about a hundred feet. It had a little shack on the ocean end. I was wondering what it was until I saw a woman walk out onto it and go into the little shack. What came out the bottom of the shack and fell into the ocean left no doubt as to the function of the thing. Of course, they call it numero dos, or something foreign like that, but a rose by any other name smells as sweet, doesn't it? Of course it does. Roses are like that. Sweet smelling. Calling number two something else certainly doesn't make it any more appealing, either. They probably do numero uno, too, because it's really impossible to do numero d........... Oh, you know. You do know, don't you? Well, I certainly hope so, and in case you don't, please ask someone else. Well, San Blas was very interesting and smelled bad, but most places like that do. Smell bad, I mean. They're like that down there, you know. Personally, I would have tidied the place up a bit if I had known there were guests coming, but the San Blasians had a more relaxed attitude towards the whole thing. There were dirty dogs, dirty pigs, dirty chickens, and dirty children running around all over the place. Some were tethered, though. Even some of the smaller children were attached to ropes. Not the chickens, though. I don't think leashes and tethers work well with poultry. If they're not just left to run around all over the place, I think cages are more appropriate. Those people down there seem to prefer the free range approach to poultry management. I think it's an anatomical thing. I mean, if you put a collar on a chicken, it would probably slip right off over its head. Chickens are like that, you know. Fish would be even worse, leash-wise, but I won't go into that. I suppose the adults were dirty, too. People, I mean. They had clothes on, though, so it was hard to tell. Anyway, those brown people don't show the dirt like we do. After all, isn't that why people have tan carpets? They don't show the dirt, you know. At least not as badly. I guess that's one of the advantages of being brown. Not showing the dirt. The small children ran around totally naked. The dogs, pigs, and chickens did, too, but you don't notice it on them. After all, we're used to seeing pets and livestock running around without clothing, but it's not so common to see twelve year olds like that. Humans, I mean. Well, twelve year old dogs run around naked, too, but we don't think much about it. At least I don't. I'm like that, you know. Apparently the children run around stark naked (or with just a short shirt) until they're about old enough to start high school. Not that they actually go to high school, of course. I don't think they even have elementary school there. The children can be old enough for high school without actually going, can't they? Of course they can. It looked like they let them run around in the altogether until they're well enough developed to be embarrassing, then they put clothes on them. Some of them looked like they were very, very well developed, and they still weren't clothed. Maybe that's a sign of redardation. Not putting clothes on them until they learn certain things, I mean. Like how to dress themselves, I suppose. One boy was very, very, very well developed, but I suppose that just meant that he wasn't very smart, so they hadn't put clothes on him. Well, he did have on a tee shirt, but it was too small for him. Of course, that's all just supposition, but you never can tell what brown people who do number two in the ocean might be up to. I don't think the adults are very smart, anyway, because they can't even talk so you can understand them. People like us can do that by the time they're three years old. Small brown people are like that, you know. Unpredictable. I think brown people are basically that way, but you never can tell. Can you? Of course not. Well, anyway, we wandered around in that dirty place with all those dirty animals and people, and it turns out that they expected you to give them money if you wanted to take their picture. Well, I never! I did buy a cloth thing that they make there and call it some sort of folk art. It's really quite unique, and rather pretty. I fogot what they call it, but I could probably find out. No, I doubt that. I would have to call San Blas, and they don't have telephones there. They only have electricity four hours a day when they run the generator thingie. I think that's it, but they might just plug in an extension cord over to Panama, but it would have to be a very long cord. I'm sure nobody other than on San Blas would possibly know what that cloth thing was called, anyway. Besides, if they did have phones, they only speak that awful foreign stuff, and they would never be able to understand me when I asked what they called those things. Anyway, I lost the thing somewhere along the line, and I couldn't show it to you even if I knew what to call it. I mean, it would be pretty silly to make a big deal out of showing someone something from someplace nobody ever heard of and then not know what to call the thing, especially since I didn't even have the darned thing to show in the first place. No that would really make me feel silly. I hate that, you know. Feeling silly, that is. Where was I? Oh, yes, San Blas where they do numbers uno and dos in the ocean. That's a terrible thing to do to that nice ocean, you know. Of course fish, lobsters, squid, dolphins, and all sorts of other awful wet things do it in the ocean all the time and think nothing of it. Number two, I mean. After all, they can't very well climb out and use a restroom, can they? Of course not. I suppose whales do too, but I'd rather not think about that. If I did think about it, though, I wouldn't be able to ignore the enormous ... volume of numero two a whale would produce. It would probably be number dos times ten to who knows how many powers. Certainly more than I care to think about. Well, of course they do it in the ocean, where else would they go? I mean whales doing you know what. I expect they do it and quickly swim away to water where nobody has been inconsiderate enough to do number two. I know I would. I'm like that, you know. Fastidious. Not that I swim in the ocean, mind you. Heaven forbid! I mean, I get to feeling quite nautical in my little lap pool at home. You certainly would never catch me swimming around in water where heaven knows what might have been doing number two. Not me! No way, Jose! Especially around that San Blas place where the brown people do numbers uno and dos in the ocean right along with the marine creatures who, after all, have a perfect right to do it because they live there and don't have anyplace else to go, for heaven's sake. Well, so much for that San Blas place. I have pictures I could show you that I took even though they expected to get paid for it. Huh! Fat chance, Moosebreath! I don't think you would like the pictures much, though. They mostly show naked children and livestock running around all over the place. Especially that one boy who they really should have put some panta on. He will probably make some girl very happy in the near future. Except those that were tied up, livestock and brown children I mean, but I think I already told you my obvservations on that. You may have seagoing experience, so you'll know what I mean when I tell you that we took a little boat to get back to the big boat. Not many landlubbers would understand those nautical terms, I expect. Let me give you the technical specifications on that boat we rode on: It was very big and mostly white. I think it went fast, too, because there was always a wind when they had the motor turned on. Well, so much for the engineering and technical details. I only included them in case you are scientifically inclined. Now I can get back to telling you about the trip through that canal thing. It's in Panama, you know. After we left that San Blas place where they do numero two in the ocean, we headed towards the mainland. That would be westerly, I think, but there could have been a considerable amount of north or maybe even south in there, too. I could find out, but I don't think I'll bother. After all, neither of us is a geographer by profession. Actually, I don't think there are many of those around anymore. Geographers, I mean. After all, things have been rather thoroughly discovered and the world has mostly settled down in the last couple hundred years. Oh, I realize that someone has to go around changing the names and sometimes colors of countries on maps and globes from time to time, but I don't think that requires the services of someone with a PhD in geography. I don't think there are many people out there with PhDs in geography, anymore. If there are some, I'll bet jobs in the field are pretty scarce. Courses in geography are probably taught by people who teach driver's education or gym the rest of the time. Well, we know about those kind of people, don't we? Enough said on that subject, I'm sure. Where was I? Oh, yes, heading for the mainland on that boat. It's possibly a misnomer to call it a mainland in those parts. After all, it's extremely skinny and not what you would really call main around there. Much more aqua than terra firma. Also, it rains so much that even the terra isn't too terribly firma. Sorry I got carried away with the Latin. I am quite fluid in the language, you know. I'm not sure whether that's the reason they put that canal thing there. Narrowness, I mean. It might have had something to do with it, but I'll bet cheap land prices were also a factor. I mean, I'm certainly no real estate expert, but I can tell cheap land when I see it. It was probably cheaper back then before inflation brought the value up from almost zero to merely dirt cheap and undesirable. Of course the canal probably increased the value, but I really don't see why. Some people, though, just have to live near the water. Some people are like that, you know. Well, of course you do. People in the midwest would probably like to live near the ocean, too, but they're about as far from the nearest salt water as it's possible to be. Oh, I know about central Asia and places like that, so don't start splitting hairs with me. We've been over that professional geographer stuff already, and I think we agreed that there's no sense in being too specific about places or directions. We did, didn't we? I thought so. After all, there's plenty of it for everybody. I mean places and directions. Back to the canal thing. Of course, they couldn't just drive that big boat up to the canal, honk the horn and yell out the window to let them know to get out of the way because we wanted through, hand some quarters to the man in the toll booth, and go on about our business like on our bridges here. Oh, no, they had to make a really big deal out it the whole thing. It seemed unnecessarily complicated to me. We had to spend the night waiting along with about a hundred other boats before we could go through the thing the next day. It wasn't as if we were in the middle of a crowd, though, and I didn't want to give you that impression. I mean the ocean over on that side is a big place and there was plenty of room for everybody. Boats, I mean. There was at least a mile between boats, so it wasn't as if we were packed in there like sardines, waiting for the canal thing to open up for business in the morning. It wasn't like that at all, and I don't want you to think it was. I'm a firm believer in being specific about some things, and boats per square kilometer is one of them. Things I believe in being specific about, I mean. I guess they don't work the canal thing at night. It must be one of those union issues you hear about. That seems silly to me, because there are perfectly good lights available nowadays that they could use. I assume, of course, that they have electricity. That isn't always a safe assumption, though, in those funny countries with small brown people. Especially the ones where they do numero two in the ocean. Anyway, we sat there waiting all night. I'm not complaining, mind you. It isn't as if there was nothing to do on the boat. Those boats are designed so that there's always a minimum amount of nothing to do. First of all, there's eating. I did a lot of that. In fact, it was almost continuous. There was a restaurant open somewhere on that boat 24 hours a day. I would have set my alarm clock for about four aye emm to get in an extra meal, but John would have been displeased. It's best not to get him displeased. He's like that, you know. I mean, when John is displeased, he tends to share his displeasure and spreads it with a rather large shovel. Fortunately, he's usually very good natured; just quiet. Most of the time, you can choose from several at any given time. Places to eat, I mean. On the boat. Unlimited grub. All included in the price of the ticket, and I made them wish they charged extra for food. I gained seven pounds in those ten days. Considering that it takes an excess of 3500 calories to put on a pound, I think that's pretty impressive chowing down. I mean, 3500 calories (kilocalories, of course, because using the teenie little real calorie would be unworkable, and not everyone is comfortable around exponents) is a lot of chow, and I ate that much six times. That doesn't count, of course, the 2000 or so calories I ate every day just to keep body and soul together. That means I took in somewhere around 5500 calories a day for those ten days, and I think I probably led the passengers on a Kcal/Kg body weight intake. If I were a boxer, I'd be in the featherweight class. Not that I was a pig or anything like that. I just ate more or less continuously, with Kcal/hr spikes at mealtimes. I think I ate at least three meals while we were waiting for the canal thing to open up for business, and some snacks and drinks in between. There's other things to do on those big white boats, you know. There are movies, live shows, dancing, gambling, shopping, suntanning (during daylight hours, of course), swimming, reading, playing cards, and going to bed (either alone or with the person of your choice). All in all, a busy place. At least as busy as you want it to be. There's also the favorite cruise activity of simply sitting with one's thumb up one's nether orifice and staring off at all that water. At one time or another, I availed myself of the opportunity to take part in all the aforementioned activities. The last activity mentioned was very enjoyable after a few pina coladas. It might have something to do with the ocean air. Of course, there are lots of things to do on those boats that I didn't mention. I only listed the ones I personally took part in or directly observed other people doing. I also engaged in some activities I didn't mention, but they're of a personal nature and I'd prefer not to talk about them. After all, there's plenty to talk about without dragging things I don't wish to talk about into the conversation. There are also things I didn't mention, but that almost certainly took place on a big boat with that many passengers, not to mention the hired help. Among things that come to mind are taking a shower, having a bowel movement, toenail clipping, clothes changing, mild sado-masochism, exercising, having one's hair done, chatting, cheating on one's spouse, getting a spouse, passing kidney stones, menstruating, yelling at the cabin attendant, throwing caution to the wind, anal sex, writing postcards, deciding what to wear to dinner that night, worrying about the stock market, watching TV, sleeping, losing your ass in a bridge game, wishing you'd packed more pantyhose, wondering what they did with your empty suitcases, being seasick, having diarrhea from drinking the water at San Blas, writing a last will and testament, doing differentials in your head, wondering whether to hit that sixteen because the dealer's showing a jack, masturbating, whistling Dixie, playing badminton, flossing, wondering if you took your BC pill that morning, worrying about your prostate gland, being glad you don't have one, considering breast implants, smoking, just wandering around, farting, gaining weight, deciding to move that damned couch again the minute you get home, wishing you were home, getting the munchies, writing haiku poems, wishing you'd brought another pair of shoes, doing your nails, picking your nose, 69ing, drinking yourself into a stupor, wondering how that fat woman in the purple lycra shorts managed to get them on, telling dirty jokes, scratching your ass, scratching someone else's ass, missing your cat, looking for porn on the INet, and just generally swanning around. Needless to say, there are many, many other activities I could mention. Good taste and brevity, though, are words by which I live. You knew that, though. Of course you did. We spent a good part of the afternoon in that waiting place with all those other ships. I repeat, there was plenty of room for everyone, so I wish you'd please stop worrying about it. Well, that's about enough for now. Next time I hope to get us through that canal thing. At least to that big lake in the middle. I'll tell you about that next time. Suffice it to say at this point that there was a big lake in the middle. Speaking of lakes, we were invited to sit at the captain's table at dinner that night. I'll tell you all about that, I promise. The reason I mention it is that his name was, and probably still is since it's only been a couple of weeks, Lago. His last name was Italian. No, I don't mean Italian as such, but a name of the Italian persuasion. I don't remember it, but it will probably come to me, and if it doesn't I'm not going to find out just to satisfy your idle curiosity. As you may or may not know, that means lake in Wop. Lago, I mean. I thought you would probably want to know that, in case you're of Italian descent. Who knows, you and Captain Lago might have an ancestor in common. I mean back at the time of Napoleon or something like that. Oh, before I forget. During that time when we were waiting for that canal thing, Auntie Louise and I both had our hair done. I got mine cut short, per instructions. Auntie was so mad at Howard for having trouble getting it up sometimes that she threatened to get a Mohawk. I encouraged her, but no luck. I spent most of time at the hair salon listening to Auntie complain about Howard having difficulty getting it up sometimes. It sounds strange that a uggh urologist would have that kind of trouble. I mean, after all, isn't that his area of specialty? Getting it up, I mean. Urologists are like that, you know. Well, Howard seemed to be having trouble intermittently throughout the whole trip. I personally wished Louise hadn't complained about it in such a public fashion. I'm sure Howard felt the same way. Probably everyone else within earshot, too. Anyway, you could tell when he'd been successful, because Auntie kept her mouth shut.
congrats
Kisses the bride congratulations dear. I am happy for you!
