Memoirs of a Soon-to-Be Former Fat Guy

Greetings from the land of the sleep-deprived. Otherwise known as third shift.

Today was not a good day by any stretch. Work just seemed to drag on and on. I thought 8 AM would never arrive. I understand that doing a turn on third is part of shift work, but it’s never been my favorite thing to do. Usually it ranks right below bamboo shoots under my toenails, but that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway, when 8:00 rolled around I wanted nothing more than to get in my car and head home to bed. I got in my car, turned the key and it wouldn’t catch. The little red “SECURITY” idiot light was blinking. Again. I did not unleash Captain Furious, but instead decided to walk over to Office Max and Home Depot. While at Home Depot, I purchased a floor scraper, figuring that if the car didn’t start I could administer a beat down on it with the floor scraper. Suffice it to say, the car started upon my return.

Moving right along, I mentioned the Mr. Sexy Legs competition, so let’s get to it.

As I mentioned, we were not going to Key West due to Bonnie, so they made our second day our day at sea. After midnight pizza, we had agreed to meet for breakfast (where we saw The Joker) and figure out what to do. As was often the case, our group found each other, and there was talk of the Mr. Sexy Legs competition. Our friend Brad was convinced to enter due to a large infusion of cash to our favorite charity. After a few more contributions, our friend Fred was coerced to enter as well. There was consumption of alcohol (or liquid courage) involved and contributions continued to pour in. Our group moved poolside and I thought I was in the clear. I was going to shoot video… after all, blackmail can be useful (just kidding). Then more of our group decided to join in… John, Mike, Mike, and sure enough, I was prodded into joining the competition. This was not my finest hour, y’all.

Next thing you know, two of the women from our group were in the judging chairs, along with three complete strangers. Now, I thought this would be a “go out there, flex your calves, dance around a little and done” kind of thing. Boy, was I naive.

The host for the event was a very fit young man from Jamaica who gave a demonstration that involved hanging off a light pole. That’s where I should’ve been like, “Oh, HELL no!” We all stuck it out, and after the drunken frat boys were done cavorting all over the deck, followed by some of our guys, it was my turn. I still had a shirt on, because I didn’t want anyone to be wounded by flying cellulite.

I kept it family friendly, as there was no uncalled for pelvic thrusts. Then Mr. Emcee decides that I need to be shirtless. I was trying to say no when I realized a cruise ship full of women were baying for blood. I’m not one to disappoint the paying public, so I went for it. After all, who wants a six-pack when you can have the whole keg? It wasn’t pretty, but it was for a good cause. We raised over $700 for Avon Breast Cancer Walk. We even had two of the five winners… John won the hairiest legs and Fred won the most muscular.

Now, you may wonder what The Management was doing during the aforementioned festivities. She was on Deck 10, shooting pictures and apparently laughing her ass off. True love.

Tomorrow, we will talk about Cozumel, Daniel Ortega and the World’s Smallest Mayan Ruins!

Oh, and for anyone following along at home, I think we need to figure a name for The Joker’s paramour.