Part III

Rossman's Travelogue (June 06, 2003)

We made it to Mystic Seaport (somewhere in Rhode Island, Vermont, or New Connecticut.. I'm not sure) and got a hotel about a mile from this tourist-trap place that's made up to look like an 18th Century whaling village. The hotel was also home to THE MOST ANNOYING school trip ever. Those punk kids were everywhere, running up and down the hallways, screaming down the hallways, and running naked up and down the hallways until all hours of the night. Man, I got absolutely NO fucking sleep! Maybe I should have just ignored the kids instead of joining them, then I wouldn't have been so hung over. Christ!!

But, the whole ancient fishing village was okay, for what it was. I did get to go on some old ships (though like they were nothing like the US Constellation that the Megaplaboy and I went on while in Baltimore all those years ago right after we met the half-man, half-god, Gus... Man, I miss him), and then saw lots of old paintings, met some people who made barrels, and people who made notes by using an old printing press (I made them make me a large parchment that read, "Hear ye, hear ye! The Lord Rossman decrees that people with stinky-ass feet shall not be permitted to removeth their shoes in yon automobile, lest they get spanked. Royally hard!")

After the whole "living museum" thang, we all then headed over to some really fancy restaurant right next to a retractable drawbridge. The food there was daaaaamn tasty, but what was even better was that homemade ice-cream shop on the other side of the river! I got the "Mystically Insane Chocolate Chocolate Chunk" in a waffle cone. Ooooooh, it was so good. Then Karen and Heather had to stand in front of the Mystic Pizza restaurant and pretend that they were Julia Roberts in that gay movie (no, not Steel Magnolias, the Mystic Pizzaria one). Though like Karen is 10Xs hotter than Julia (Heather's not even as hot as that ugly dude in My Best Friend's Wedding, but I can say that cause the only person I have a chance of scoring with on this trip is Karen. Screw Heather).

I'm done writing for the day.... But those kids in the hallway are pretty much BEGGING me to join them for another night of debauchery. I wonder if it's only because I can buy them beer? Who cares! PARTAY!!!

Heather's Journal (June 06, 2003)

Oh my God! I read the Rossman's journal entry for today and like I am so gonna have to have Rodney kick his ass!

Rodney's Logbook (June 06, 2003)

Heh heh... Heather just made me read the Rossman's journal from today's Mystic Seaport trip. That's some funny shit. Heh, even though I've been backdooring it to Heather for a few months, I do have to agree with the R-man... Seriously, if I ever do end up doing Heth from the front, I am so gonna have to double bag it (one bag on her head, and one on mine in case one falls off).

But now to talk about the day at hand. First of all, the Rossman was the loudest bitch in the hotel as he ran around with all those high school kids until something like 4 in the AM. He kept banging on our door and yelling "House keeping! You want blow job?!" until I opened it up and let him have it with the fire extinguisher right in the face. I think that's when Karen punched him in the stomach, kicked him in the chin and then elbowed him in the treasure chest until he passed out.

The Seaport itself was pretty nice. A bit boring as there really wasn't all that much to do there, but it was cool to see and actually walk on those big old ships in person. Well, it was cool until the Rossman started sticking his ass out of the cannon holes and yelling "FIRE IN THE HOLE! Off the port side, Mr. Smee!" right before he let the thunder loose. That eventually got us evicted without a refund. And that note he made... Very funny, mothafucka. I swear, it's a goddamn medical condition. I can't help it. Dr. Scholls ain't good for jack shit!

Down at the Seaport!  Down by the seeeeeeea!The Seaport was okay. Nothing really grand-spanktacular. It was well kept and it made it look like the 17-hundreds could have been a decent era to live in (well, as decent as times could be without plumbing and/or anime).

The only major problem I had with the whole place was the complete lack of funny Kodak moments. Seriously, this shot with me and the anchor was like the best I could get. I already got all the good "boat shots" I could get from the US Constellation, and the people dressed up in the clothing of the era were not too keen on posing with me while I pretended to look up their ankle-length skirts, or acted like I was harpooning them up the ass. Method-acting pansies.

Rossman's Travelogue (June 08, 2003)

Well, we made it to Cape Cod and settled down in Hyannis (home of the always drunkable Kennedys) while we explored the area. Hyannis was a nice place, but it reminded me a bit too much of that seaside resort town that Jaws hit in the first movie. It was quaint, had some nice restaurants and stuff... But I was scared as shit to enter the water. Everybody else was swimming and having fun and stuff, but I just kept my eyes peeled for any dorsal fins or zombies (they always attack when you least expect it too). Nice Italian restaurant last night, then an early rise in order to hop, skip and jump all the way up for a day in Provincetown... And it is a day I will NEVER forget.

Seriously, I consider myself pretty secure in my masculinity (except for that one time while watching the Crying Game with Just Kidding back in high school and she said, "Man, I am so jealous of her body," and I was like, "You know baby, you're right! That chick is pretty hot!"), but Provincetown truly put me to the test. For those of you not in the know (as was I when we first traveled there), Provincetown is the East Coast's San Francisco. Only gayer. MUCH much gayer. Think "gay". Think Will and Grace. Nope, that show isn't gay enough for Provincetown. Think Sex in the City. Provincetown is still 4 1/2 times gayer. Harry Knowles isn't even gay enough for this trashy, rainbow-filled tourist trap on the very tip (ick, it's even weird just writing that) of Cape Cod. Now I know why Cape Cod is named that. It must have been what the Indians thought the Pilgrims were saying when they first landed there and saw all the gay Mohicans and such doing the Hustle and the YMCA. What they really said was, "Oh GOD! I'm blind!!!", but that's a history lesson for another day.

I kid about Provincetown though. Yeah, it was kind of (does hand gesture that Mr. Roper always did in reference to Jack Tripper), but it was fun. We ate at Bayside Betsy's (for some of the best food I had on the trip so far, and definitely the most unique bathroom I've ever had the privilege of using), and then got some ice-cream while the chickies walked the main street, looking in and out of shops for the gayest souvenirs they could find. Us guys had learned quickly to not stand together on the street corner lest we start getting checked out by the locals and the visiting non-heteros. We then started either holding one of our girl's hands or butts, and sometimes we had to double team up on Heather, Little J or Karen when one of the ladies had to go into a "ladies only" room. Matt^3 didn't seem to understand what was going on. Whenever a gay man would approach him and say, "Nice pants, sailor!" he'd always go, "Thanks! They're stain resistant Dockers." Which would always get the response of, "Stain resistant, you say? Well then, why don't we go test that theory out? Roooooaar!" We lost track of Matt^3 for a good 20 minutes at one point, and whenever we bring it up he starts sweating and swearing that his pants stayed on.

Karen's Hello Kitty Diary (June 08, 2003)

Holy cow! It's still freezing! It's June 8th and it's still freezing! Everybody had to buy at least another sweatshirt today to keep warm, and to allow all our used sweaters and sweatshirts to finally get washed (who knew we'd use them so much?). We did the whole Cape Cod thing yesterday and today. Never got to Nantucket, but that's for the best as the Rossman was only interested in going there to meet Antonio the cab driver and Lowell. I don't know if he was joking or not. The Provincetown thing was quite a shocker (seriously, they should put that in the maps or something. You know, a little warning would have been nice. Something like, "Provincetown: Home of the East Coast Homies... and we don't mean 'gangs'"), but it really only freaked the guys out. Poor Matthew. More driving tomorrow! Yay! (sarcasm)

More Party!  Yahoo!When traveling through New England you get used to the overabundance of Pilgrim and Indian statues pretty quickly. Every little side road has them. If you walk the beaches, you're bound to bump into one. Hell, we played hide-n-seek for ten minutes as we tried to stay away from Rodney's sock on a stick and each of us ran into at least 5 statues in the woods outside of Plymouth. It's kind of creepy when you think about it. I mean, there have got to be other icons and shit beyond the short Pilgrim man, and the naked Indian chief that Massachusetts could have used to get people to come and spend their money on shitty plastic trinkets... Though I guess the irony of the situation (selling cheap plastic doo-dads to the invading tourists instead of vice versa) is much more delicious when the trinkets are teepees and tomahawks.

I never did get my headpiece and beaded moccasins. So sad.

Rossman's Travelogue (June 10, 2003)

Lots of open road yesterday. We did a quick stop in both Plymouth and Quincy, saw the quick sites and took the quick pics. Other than the Rock in Ply-town, and the Adams House in Quincy, there wasn't much to run screaming naked through. So, we just sped through Boston (to hit it hopefully tomorrow on the way back South) and kept going till we hit my Dad's old summer vacation spot (back when he was like 5-13 years old), Rockport! Holy dog shit was it foggy.

We stayed at this old mansion turned hotel (it so reminded me of Faulty Towers! I kept yelling out, "Basil! You idiot!" whenever somebody did something silly or stupid... Which was like every 20 seconds) that was right on the ocean. The sound of the waves actually lulled us to sleep last night. Well, they made Matt^3 have to use the can every half an hour, but that just added to their charm.

This morning we did the whole touristy thing in Rockport (saw "the most painted building in the world", ate at some great seafood places, and then made fun of the natives as WE got to then head back South to where the seasons actually change and summer can be felt in the months of June through August), but then we got packed up, yet again, and got going. We made it to Boston at around 7, but everyone was too tired to do anything big. So we all got drunk at a local bar and decided to call it a night.... Goodnight.

Little J's Diary (June 10, 2003)

Oh joy. More Buffy on the trip down to Boston. And luckily we hit major Bostonian traffic as we approached the city, got horrendously lost because Big D wanted "to see that spot where the Tea Party took place... SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!", and got a little bit of car sick (well, Heather did due to not eating anything since 5AM because I don't know).

So apparently Buffy is now in college, struggling with studies and killing evil things (except that blonde vampire even though he's a total tool), and sometimes going mute due to some floaty guys in suits who look like my old European History Professor if he actually smiled. That Xander guy is a total doof, and the redhead witch is gay I think. Urgh! Now it's got me thinking about it even in the middle of the night when I should be getting to sleep! Goodnight, Diary.


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