Socks! Something so small can wreak so much havoc in packing. Oh sure you can cram the little buggers into a pair of shoes or down some boots, or even ball them up within hollowed out lacquered alligators, that’s all fine and dandy. But what if you’re leaving for 12 days and only have three pairs of shoes? Or you’re not smuggling alligators?

I’m going to pepper them throughout the case – filling any crevasse or nook or granny (granny? is that right?) until they’re all in there.

For the record, I’m bringing 6 pairs of dress socks (including my rockin’ cow skull ones) 16 pairs of booty socks. I may be overpacking these buggers but I hate being forced to re-wear dirty socks. I use to have a room mate who *just didn’t get* the concept of foot hygiene. Once a week one of us sharing the apartment had to remind him “it was time”. And he changed his socks. The man was an artistic genius, but when it came to personal smells, he was oblivious.

I’d rather be dumb than a stinky foot genius.

Shopping orgy. That’s the only thing I think I can call this weekend. We were both paid and found ourselves a bit antsy to save our money for the trip. See, when we came back from Disney in June SharkBoy was walking a strike line and I was idle from working a 4 day work week. Needless to say the bills came first and personal shopping dropped off sharply. When we came out on the other side of this crappy recession and decided to take the cruise, we still weren’t all that cash happy at the time (but we knew we could budget in time for the departure). In all, our lack of shopping has been a capitalist’s nightmare for us for the last 7 months – we even made most of our Xmas gifts (Which was nice and fun, but nothing beats a new PS3 cartridge over a lovingly hand drawn card).

Friday we had spent the entire day emailing each other back and forth, justifying stuff we needed for the cruise. It was like a bubble burst. We met up after work and started to shop… and shop… and shop… all in the name of the cruise. Followers saw the shorts I got yesterday. Included in the shopping melee were dress shirts (three for me, two for SharkBoy), three ties, summer weight dress pants on supersale at Winners, fall coats (we need them to go from New Jersey’s February climate to the Caribbean within 24 hrs), underwear (I got some “fancy” ones. Stay tuned), Florsheim shoes (SharkBoy’s first pair! We’re going to bronze them later), Olympic mittens (Go Canada!) and a belt for SharkBoy. Sunday night we returned home and collapsed, just like that ad with the catchy tune for debt management (sans eviction notice, thankfully).

As we were walking home, SharkBoy spies this in the window of a store. It was in my bag in seconds. It felt good to just wander and buy. Haven’t done that in yonks!

News Flash! I think this weekend only Old Navy is clearing out old summer stock! These were $17 each! Such good timing! I’m all verklempt!

If anything a warm vacation in the middle of winter keeps your domicile neat and tidy. I just spent an hour in my skivvies running from closet to kitchen to get SharkBoy to approve on various fashion contemplations (he was cleaning up after the Fondue we had last night! Thanks JTree and Fortress of Solitude!). I’m rummaging through all my clothes looking for frays, rips, never-worns, and “holy shit? I wore these” kinds of outfits and SharkBoy gives his expert not or disapproving look. No. I will not post pictures.

Apparently I need ties. Again. I only have one – from my wedding- that one of the cats took a shining to one night while exploring the closet. It’s got a big run in the silk. So off to the store this morning.

We’re judgemental machines. Humans decide whether or not you’re good to eat or if you’re going to sire your babies within milliseconds of seeing you and clothing plays a big part of that. I assume that my “style” elicits a “Mostly Harmless” reaction within people’s subconscious brain. Then I prey on them and eat their eyes.

I’m generally a light packer when it comes to toiletries. I can survive a while on toothbrush, shave stuff and moisturizer. But we’re going for a while and we’re in formal (adult?) situations. Best to err on the side of “too much”.

Whenever I stand in the isle at the drugstore that sells those travel size packets I get excited. Even though I only use .05% of whatever they’re selling (I don’t really need shampoos or conditioners). But I still get a rush looking for stuff to hoard along with me.

Looky at the image below. You’ll need to click on it with your mousetoolthing to make it go biggen to see all the explanations. Enjoy!

Sugoi!

It’s Japanese for “Super!” or “Fantastic!” or “Great!”

It’s also a totally non-self-conscious athletic wear line that (imho) is much better than Nike. Just ask StudioYVR. He’s a runner. He knows these things.

I’m looking forward to getting up with the sun and running laps on the ship. We have three days at sea to start off. The first two may not be warm enough to sit by the pool. I gotta do something other than eat, right?

Again, Cargo shorts.

I like these ones because they have snaps instead of buttons. Easier access. Also they have phylacteries-like straps (sans boxes) in the leg cuff, giving them that aura of “military” again – I think. Why the straps? Uhm. Just in case I’m caught in a sand storm and I don’t want sand up in my balls?

Sometimes fashion fails us all.

Whoever invented the cargo short has my undying admiration.

Design-wise, Cargo shorts free us up from embarrassing fanny packs and manpurses, both of which have become comedy sticking points on various cable tv shows. Even Kath and Kim (the real Australian show, not the bizarre, unfunny US version) had a character named Kel who, shared the girl’s love of all things tacky (or “naff”) had a whole room in his house dedicated to man-satchels.

They also satisfy my need to hoard – when I come in from the outside world, you can tell I had a good day if the shorts sag around my hips due to all the crap I have in the pockets: camera, iPhone, wallet, keys, money, scraps of paper, various purchases like DVDs or game disks, found mushrooms, nuts, twigs, a puppy etc.

I get this feeling the British created them. Or a Norwegian. Most definitely a military fashion cross-over, I’m sure. Too lazy to Wiki it. Regardless, I salute you.

I think it’s proper to bring protection along with you on a trip. Be it condoms, or rain ponchos or a nice corduroy pashmina, you need something to protect you from the elements. I think this will help out tremendously as I brave the sushi buffet, the midnight dessert banquet and the kid’s pizza station.

COME GET SOME!!

Again the cats want to help. I opened the suitcase, turned to get the shirts and BAM – there’s Billy Dee Williams. It freaks me out.

Not going to bore you with 5 days of undershirts, just going to do them all in one day. Plus I need some of them for the next 25 days, so this is only a “representation” of 5 undershirts… Wait… 25?! EEEE!!! 25 Days!!

I wasn’t an undershirt guy before I met SharkBoy. Even in the dead of winter I’d rather wear a dress shirt and sweater before I would even think of layering up. Oh I knew the benefits but I’ve been influenced by him. He’s the well dressed one in this relationship. As a good wife, I am trying to swap out his old undershirts for fresh ones, but like everyone on the planet, he has his favorites too. I love being married!

You’ve seen this shirt lots of times. It’s my favorite home made shirt to date.

I don’t want to talk shirts – I want to talk cats.

Why in fucks name do cats immediately sit in boxes within seconds of their opening? I don’t understand. I had just stood up from placing this shirt and Ziiixxxip! There’s Billy Dee Williams looking up at me as if to say “Mine, hairless house ape. Tough shit.”

Oh and if you’ve ever wondered about giving a cat an enema, I’m your man. Poor Billy Dee was so backed up you could visibly see the lump under his tail. My Sunday morning was all clipped claws, a warm bathtub full of water, and an anal bulb I’m never using again.

Oh and to add to my Finding Things on My Run count:

– A beer fridge (Bet StevieB makes me go back and get it)
– a book case
– a toaster oven
– a stairmaster step