Ah-Freakin-Choo.

I just can’t seem to shake this stupid cold. Yesterday, HoBiscuit my girlfriend and I went for a walk around the city for no reason other than it was a beautiful day. Within a few blocks I was sweating as if I had been running a marathon through the Amazon jungle wearing a fur-lined, full body rubber suit. Naturally, being a card-carrying, certified macho man (without the Village People mustache, thank you), I ignored my quickly deteriorating condition until HoBiscuit my girlfriend tried to hug me and became repulsed by the sweat she squeezed from my clothing like dirty dishwater from a sponge. Of course, I told her I was fine and only needed a drink of water to recharge my batteries and even though I was obviously lying, she took what I said at face value because there was a great shoe sale going on a few blocks away.

Not really, but it does sound plausible, doesn’t it?

Actually, we headed back home where I proceeded to collapse into a pathetic, jiggling mass of wimp flavored jelly. HoBiscuit my girlfriend helped pour me into bed and the rest of the night is a blur of fevered nightmares and really, really bad Steven Seagal movies.

Yeah, that’s right, Steven Seagal movies.

Y’see, instead of being a smart Geek and going right to sleep, I somehow managed to stay awake and watch The Glimmer Man on TNT’s Movies for Guys Who Like Movies crapfest. In my defense I want it to be known that in my delirious state I must have been trying to frighten the cold away by subjecting it to the worst movie I could find on such short notice. By definition, any Seagal movie is bad, but The Glimmer Man goes above and beyond the call of duty by being so bad that the roaches in HoBiscuits my girlfriends apartment came out of hiding and demanded to be sprayed with Raid to end their suffering. I actually sat there, like some fungal growth that lacked the brainpower to use its newly formed, Darwinian granted appendages, and watched that entire putrid excuse for a movie while the remote control sat on the couch right next to me. Every five minutes HoBiscuit my girlfriend would ask me if I wanted to watch something else or go to sleep and I don’t think I ever answered her coherently.

I must have been in some cold-induced brain fog because for the life of me I swear I don’t know why I didn’t change the channel or at least use the remote to slit my wrists and end the agony.

Although I am still sick fear not dear reader, because the Mighty Geek is feeling better today and has decided to take it easy for the next few days. My goal this week is to surgically fuse my skinny, hairy ass to the Comfy-Couch of Super-Sleep and eat my body weight in Cup-O-Ramen soup. I figure that if I don’t recover by Friday then I might actually need to see a doctor. And as any guy knows, seeing a doctor is tantamount to admitting that you might not be an indestructible, costumed superhero in disguise. We all know that every man in the world believes deep down in his secret, hidden soul that he is either a rock star or a superhero. I know I can’t sing, as the many restraining orders against me from karaoke bars attest, so it stands to reason that I must be a superhero who has some sort of amnesia.

No doubt my pathetic life is nothing less than a plot to destroy me masterminded by my archenemy, whose name escapes me right now but who will make his evil plans known to me at some future date. Oh, the humanity.

Well, I’m off to the CCoSS to watch The Great Muppet Caper now. And to help keep everyone happy while I’m laughing so hard my snot hits my tv, here’s the first and only picture of me I’ve ever posted. Enjoy.

Well, I’m back. There will be no apologies made for my lack of posting while I was away because I had no internet connection while on board the ship. Even worse, after my last post from Puerto Rico the cruise only stopped at one more island (St. Thomas). That’s right, I didn’t get to see St. Maarten or Bermuda due to another hurricane (Dean). So all in all, I didn’t get to go where I wanted to go and I didn’t get to go where I didn’t want to go either.

Sometimes life can be really cruel.

We were stuck on the ship so long that my girlfriend actually got a shuffleboard-related injury. She insists that her left buttock is in considerable pain due to too much shuffleboard. Don’t let the innocent almost slow-motion-like movements fool you. Shuffleboard is a full contact sport only to be played by professionals or the very elderly.

She is soooooo out of shape. And I am sooooo dead.

I’ll be posting a full story complete with pictures about my Cruise From Hell later today or tomorrow. Some highlights will be finding out our itinerary had changed, things to do while stuck on board a ship, pictures of fabulous water ripples and don’t miss the mutiny on board by unhappy passengers. Yes, there was an actual ”mutiny” of about 500 passengers who were even more upset than I was about the horrible cruise. By the last day they were talking about calling their lawyers and some were even talking about calling the media.

As if the media doesn’t have anything better to do with their time than listen to a bunch of overwieght, buffet-loving old ladies and trailer-trash bitch and moan because they didn’t enjoy their cruise. I can understand being upset about the situation, but some of these people needed to relax and get a life that doesn’t include Jerry Springer or Cheeto’s. Getting riled up while still on board is only going to make a bad situation worse.

Until I post the full story later, let me sum up my experience on board the ship by saying that if it wasn’t for the wonderful people my girlfriend and I sat with at our dinner table, the entire cruise would have been a complete waste of time and money. Don’t get me wrong, every other cruise I’ve been on has been wonderful to the extreme. This one just seemed to be bad from the moment we set foot on board.

You know, I should have known it would be bad when we got on board and I saw rats with little suitcases and worried expressions getting off.

Now that that’s over with, let me tell you about the lovely head cold I’ve developed. I’m leaking fluids from every orifice, my ears are stuffed with cotton and my bones ache so badly I think I’d start crying if I so much as farted. Right now I’m going to take some drugs, go lie down on my Comfy-Couch of Super-Sleep and think mean and spiteful things about everyone in the cruise line business.

Who knows, I might even feel well enough later to post something funny.

Tomorrow I am leaving on a well-deserved vacation. I’ll soon be lying in the sun on Lido Deck, sipping the Cruise Special Drink whilst vestigial virgins massage my tired feet. Yes, dear reader, The Geek is going on a cruise. Pay no heed to the fact that it’s the height of hurricane season and that I might wind up like Leo. Nevermind that the Weather Channel thinks a tropical storm is headed directly towards my travel route. Forget that I could wind up as the main course in Feast of the Giant Sharks. This is my first vacation in four years and I’m not going to let a few minor annoyances like weather or death deter me from enjoying myself. I’m going to soak in hot water till my muscles ooze off my body and form puddles of super-relaxed goo at my feet. I’m gonna bet the deed to my llama on a single roll of the dice at Mr. Evil Casino’s Crap Game of Shame and Destitution. And I’m going to eat my own body weight in lard at the midnight buffet.

I might die, but I’ll die happy dammit.

I’ve begun packing the essentials (One bottle Insta-Tan Lotion. Check. One muscle T-shirt to show off ‘bod’. Check. One pair Danger Flip-Flops. Check) and tidying up my apartment in preparation for my exodus to the Vacationland of Fun and Relaxation. For me, leaving on a vacation is very different from leaving on a business trip. Packing wise, on a business trip I know exactly what I’ll need. Warm, long-sleeve shirts and dress pants. Even if I’m going to be in Brazil during July, I’ll still need warm clothes because all I’ll ever see is the inside of a dark and FREEZING COLD ballroom. That’s right, no sun for our favorite Geek when he’s working. Hell, I’m lucky if I get to eat twice a day with some of these people. But when I’m packing for a vacation, which I haven’t done in years, I find myself looking over a huge pile of clothes and muttering things like,

“You know, I don’t think I’ll need four suits for a 7 day cruise. Maybe I’ll just take three.”

“Do black socks go with sandals?”

“I wonder if I’ll actually wear shorts this time? Maybe I should pack an extra pair of pants, just in case.”

“Will my girlfriend find my tighty-whities sexy, or should I pack my thongs too?”

“Waitaminute! How will I check my email?!?”

At least I know I’ll be able to get the internet while I’m on board. I’m bringing Gunm (my favorite laptop) with me and I’ll have a satellite connection from my stateroom. Of course, that means I’ll be posting from the ship, which I think will be really cool. How many people out there can say they’ve posted an entry from 150 miles out at sea? And if the storm gets me, how many could say they’ve posted from the stomach of a shark?

Now it’s time to get back to packing. I have to be at the airport at 4:45am tomorrow because I’m out of my frigging mind. Why would any sane person choose to leave at that ungodly hour unless it was some kind of life or death emergency? No one, that’s who.

I must really need this vacation.