Wednesday, December 30, 2015
I woke up with a slight hangover and the sun beating down on my face from my coffin. Oh, I mean my cabin. Freudian slip. Have you ever slept on a boat? It’s literally like living in a tiny, hot little box of sand, salt water and beer. Everything you own is wet and smells. You look at a bag of ice as if they were bags of giant diamonds – the most beautiful thing you have ever beheld. There is nothing luxurious about this. I’m not sailing around with Beyonce drinking champagne out here. Yacht Week is the epitome of making due with whatever you have, like warm vodka to the face. Couple this with the fact that yacht week totally fucked us and gave us a super shitty boat instead of the one we actually booked, with shit breaking every damn day, and you have a recipe for alcoholism. I came out of hibernation to find that we were already en route to the emerald caves. We hopped off the boat and swam through a pitch black cave wondering what the point was. Then we saw the light. The cave opens up into a beautiful little hidden beach. We quickly took some pics and high tailed it out of there to avoid the throngs of Russian and Chinese tourists that were on our tail. After that, we were headed back to Koh Lanta South, which was to be the destination of tonight’s shit show.
We had to do a food run, so a few of us went into town and hit the store. It was a glorified mini mart. It’s no wonder I have to hit the bottle every night. The only way I can choke down a bologna and cheese sandwich or another cup of ramen is if I’m hammered. But then again, I’m spending the week in a bathing suit, so more booze and less food is definitely for the best. After the trip to the store, the crew headed to the beach for some beers and chill time. I, however, was in desperate need of a little Rory alone time. The majority of my life consists of alone time, so when I don’t get it for weeks at a time I become a cranky ass bitch. So I stayed on the boat and watched season 2 of breaking bad on the net of my catamaran. Out of a whole week, I got about 3 hours of sober alone time. That sounds healthy. But enough of that boring crap.
Tonight was the actual glow party. Luckily we were warmed up from our first round of glow last night. My only real goal tonight was to be able to string together a coherent sentence and stay on my feet. But don’t you worry, because I did far more than that. That’s right my friends, get ready for some stories. First, we arrived at the party and set off some lanterns. You guys know what I’m talking about – you light lanterns and send them off into the sky and it represents something profound and beautiful, like setting your soul free, or unburdening yourself of the stresses of your life, blah blah blah. Unless you do it on yacht week, in which case it’s just drunk people playing with fire and lanterns crashing everywhere. But we gave it a shot. All in all, the lantern thing was overrated.
We hit the buckets and things started to get going. The moronic, yet beautiful Adonis came by to chat with us for a while. And then he asked me to go for a walk with him down the beach. For those of you that don’t know, and didn’t read my New Zealand blog, “go for a walk” is code for “let’s go make out”. So now I have quite the conundrum. The devil on my shoulder is saying, go get your cardio on girl! When are you ever going to have another opportunity to make out with a ten? It’s not like you’re getting any younger. And father time seems hell bent on getting his way. Get it while you’re tan enough to look skinny! The angel on my other shoulder was saying, Rory, he is dumb as shit and not worth your time. Have some self respect. Just kidding – I don’t have an angel. Just two little devils. So walked we did. He talked while I silently prayed he would stop. We made out on some pool chairs at a resort down the beach where he made really aggressive sounds that were super gross. This guy gets more weird by the second. Every time I started to wonder what I was doing there, I just thought to myself “do it for the blog”. You’re welcome. We headed back to the party and parted ways. A Jewish guy with a serious case of halitosis hit on me. I prefer to be the token Jew in all fun situations such as yacht week, so I was not happy about his presence. The Legend went right back to work and found me a smoking hot Australian skipper. I gave it the old college try, but got nowhere. Don’t worry, I don’t give up that easily. Nothing too crazy happened. I would have killed someone for some North End chili cheese tater tots, but instead I went to bed big spooning a bag of chips.
That wraps up today’s blog. But just for fun, I’m going to leave you with a list of “The five most asinine things to come out of Adonis’ mouth” to illustrate his pure idiocy:
1. His job is to “create experiences”. What does that mean, you ask? NOTHING. He set up a beach yoga session and acted like he was the first person to ever put those two things together.
2. His best friend is Richard Branson and they bought a mountain together. Let me explain why this is such total bullshit – he is free loading on the crew boat with no bed to sleep in. Does that sound to you like the life of someone who hob nobs with Richard fucking Branson? That’s like going from partying on a P. Diddy’s yacht to getting ruffied at the Hermosa Beach Sharkeez.
3. He owns Cheetah print stretchy pants that FOUR of his friends made for him and mailed to him. Individually. What a coincidence.
4. He once “created an experience” for Nike in which he threw a 400 person dinner and no one spoke the entire time because the ambiance he created was so magical. Dude, if no one spoke at dinner with you it’s because they can’t bear to have a conversation with your stupid ass.
5. Carly pointed out at cut on his leg and asked if it hurt. He replied, “You think I’m going to complain about this cut when men used to fight wolves?” He thinks his ancestors are wolves. I guess that’s the confusion that happens when you have yet to evolve from the ape. But a beautiful ape, I must say.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Today we woke up and Carly and I got drunk. She has learned of my intense FOMO (fear of missing out) and is fully exploiting the fact that I never say no. Nothing like a 9am vodka soda to forget about the poor decisions you made the night before. Today we trekked on to Koh Phi Phi. The seas were super rough. By the time we arrived we looked like we had been raped and pillaged by a bunch of pirates. But hey, it’s NYE!
A couple of the gals did a vodka run to the town. We have been guzzling vodka faster than a Russian at breakfast on this boat. We had a little pre party on the boat and headed into town for dinner before the NYE party. Don’t worry – Carly and I packed a water bottle of vodka. You didn’t expect us to get through an entire meal without warm vodka to the face, did you? Dinner was another pizza-fest. Somehow every celebratory dinner on this trip has been a pizza-fest. Coincidence that they have both been with Kim Ortloff? Methinks not. Pizza and wine are her two main food groups, after all.
The NYE party was at a place called “No Where Bar”. It overlooked the main beach oh Koh Phi Phi. Although, on new years eve, that beach looks more like the D-day beaches of Normandy. Fireshows, fireworks, and way too many fucking people. At one point in the night a fucking beach bar literally caught on fire and burned down. It just burned while all the drunk ass holes danced around it like they were praying for rain.
Let’s get back to the yacht week NYE party. You know it’s not a yacht week party until our boat shows up without having gotten the correct theme memo. Earlier in the day some of the yacht week “employees” came to our boat and told us that tonight there was no theme, just wear whatever. We said that we had heard tonight was the white party, and were then specifically told not to wear white, as that party was later in the week. We show up at the party and it looks like a damn KKK rally. The actual chick that stood on our boat and said “don’t wear white”- I’ll give you one fucking guess what color she was in. Do not fuck with an ex-sorority girl when it comes to themes. I dressed up as a slutty pocahontas for half of college. I take this shit seriously. So we said Phuk it – at this point we are used to paving our own theme roads. We danced around and drank – you guessed it – vodka. The bar was way too small for our group of maniacs and annoyingly packed. I hit on the hot Aussie skipper again. You have to at least give me points for effort on this one. What can I say, vodka makes me an over acheiver. I didn’t bite his arm – so I’m making headway on the creepy front there. They didn’t do a countdown, which I found odd. I had no NYE kiss. Nothing new there. I went home with about half the boat while the others went down to the burning beach and raged on. Brandon set off his Thai-bought fireworks off the back of the boat. Norco in da house, yo!
Later the next day I would be informed that my skipper spent part of the night at the emergency room with Adonis. Why, you ask? Because some crazy Thai mother fucker BIT HIS EAR OFF. Straight up Mike Tyson’d the shit out of him. He was literally searching the beach for a peace of his ear. Now, I know this is a horrible thing. And I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone (ok, maybe some people). But isn’t it some kind of weird poetic justice that this guy, who makes me want to bite my ear off whenever he speaks, get’s his ear bit off? Fuck, I’m soooo going to hell. Needless to say, we didn’t see much of Adonis after that. But let’s all thank him, as he has served the blog well.
Tomorrow is pool party day. I don’t even know where I’m going to come up with the words to describe that magical shit show…