By popular demand, guest blogger and bon vivant, Myrtle Lardburger, returns to regale us with her impressions of the family’s first cruise to Europe. Over to you, Myrtle….
Hi there again, folks! Herb and I are just back from our first cruise to Europeland, and we’d like to share some of our impressions with those of you who might be thinking of going there in the future.
This time we were on some damn big boat again. I think it was the Highland America line? Anyway, that’s not so important. We had so much fun, but it wasn’t all plain sailing, I’m afraid.
For starters, I didn’t like Monte Carlo. More like Monte Carloff, if you ask me. Those waiters are so snooty! And the size of those food plates… honestly, I’ve seen bigger dimes. Not our fault the damned waiter had to bring us five each. Jesus.
Still, it was very sad to learn about Will and Grace. Princess Grace apparently died in a car crash, so then Prince Will had to go to England and marry some broad called Cruella Carpet Bowles. Such a sad story.
I did quite like Greece. The Grecians are very friendly but boy, nothing happens quickly in that country. They still don’t have an elevator in the Acropolis, and it’s been five thousand years. But we loved the Parthenon. Just get that roof fixed, get a nice carpet laid inside, and it’ll be fit for a king. Long as he’s not very picky, mind you.
We had been so looking forward to Venice, Herb and I. But when we got there, the whole damn place was under water. Whole damned place is falling apart. And -I’m not being rude here- but the local women really should learn how to shave. Some of them could really do with visiting Italy, and getting some lessons in style from those people.
Istanbul was pretty, and they told us beforehand all about the story of the Orient Express? Well, I’m sorry, but Istanbul is not at all oriental. And I sure didn’t see any express. But we did buy a nice carpet from a tattooed lady in the local bizarre. She told us it was a really good carpet. And I believe she was an expert. She looked like the sort that had been on a few carpets, if you catch my drift.
It was lovely to go to Barcelona, too. It’s the first chance I’ve had to speak with the locals in their own tongue. I spent four months learning to speak Portugonese especially for this visit. They call the locals ‘Catalans’ (just think; Catalogue) and the local dialect is something called Catatonic. Great city, but you’ve got to stop going on about that Columbus guy. Like, it was 1492, you know? We’ve had Elvis, moon rockets and American Idol since then, for crissakes.
Anyway, our last stop was in Southampton, England. What a bummer. When you see this place, you realise why so many people swarmed aboard the Titanic.
We were invited to go ten pin bowling here and, of course, Herb played the game of his life. Took down skittles quicker than a hooker’s drawers on Fleet Week.
Well, whup my ass and call me Gertrude! I haven’t had that much fun since Aunt Arlene’s naked Nazi hot tub party. Least, not until Herb’s final strike.
Boy, was it a beauty! He scattered those babies like ninepins. Came down with one hell of a crash, mind you.
Turns out the locals were not best pleased. Apparently, he had knocked over something called Stonehinge? Apparently, it’s older than Zsa Zsa Gabor’s babysitter, for crissakes, but the candy assed Brits made such a big deal of it.
Don’t get me wrong. We had a lot of fun. But Herb and I were kinda glad to get checked in for our flight at Deathrow Airport. Who thinks of these names? Don’t the Brits have any sense of decorum?
Next time, who knows where we might go? I was thinking about some place called Polynesia, but one of the passengers on the ship told me that it’s just a load of old parrots suffering from memory loss. Something like that.
Stay tuned. That’s all I can tell you. Maybe one of these days, the Lardburgers will be coming to a town near you.