Friday, October 22, 2010

Goodbye Yoga

As most of my loyal followers have been certain to notice, my personality has drastically changed over the last five months.  The wild, wandering ways that helped define my first thirty years have been replaced by a calmer, more deliberate Nicholas Shumaker.  Pictures like this have been set in the backseat of a bygone era:


While I'm a pretty remarkable person by every estimation, not dissimilar to Timothy Carey's lead character in the underexposed cult classic THE WORLD'S GREATEST SINNER, I for once can't assume full credit for this unlikely transformation.  Nope.  It was in the hands of the world's greatest (and most tolerant) yoga instructor, Rebecca Phillips.  Not only has she weather my histrionics and stomached all of the insults I grimace her way, she also guided me into perfect tree pose knowing that I'm pretty retarded on my left side.  For those looking for a similar transmutation, get in touch with her.  With my departure she has over four and half hours a week free for the next two plus months.

Dispatch from the Cruise

Having just finished my daily intake of roast beef and cauliflower, I received this missive from Jack, whose exact positioning in the Caribbean remains unknown:

22 October 2010

Nick-

Things are going swimmingly on the high seas.  Frankie is in good spirits and has found great company with a seventy year old woman named Millie. A recent widower from Kansas City, she has agreed to partner with him in the line dancing class that occurs between 1630 and 1700, just before the early bird dinner.

Of high interest to you is my besting of Frankie in the shuffle board tournament.  What a thrill victory brings!  Ever the good sport, Frankie tipped his hat towards me after a a firm handshake and a wily wink.  Between the patchwork class that begins at 3PM for which I have signed up, I'm going to sneak onto the court for a few practice shuffles.  (I certainly hope the tournament officials don't happen upon this blog post as I cannot risk a penalty.)

You see, the early evening could be a rocky one indeed, I must admit.  Sponsored by Saucony, Jimmy (pictured below on the left), who hails from New Mexico and rides the good ship once a year with his wife of forty years, is the reigning champion of the last twelve years, and also my next opponent.  I would be dishonest if I did not concede a  smidgen of trepidation.running through my tummy for Jimmy is a formidable adversary, indeed.  So keep me in your thoughts at 5PM when the shit is destined to go down and I create a ruckus.  Someone might become an appetizer for the sharks!

Otherwise, life is grand on the seas and, staring past the ping pong room and the geriatric yoga practitioners, I can now, with confidence, posit myself within the ranks of the great explorers of yesteryear.  Encyclopedia Brown, poise your pen, ink the tip, and be ready to posit me, Mister Jack Turner, alongside Mr. Christopher Columbus and his fraternity of great explorers in the annals of history.

In Cartagena I trust,

Jack

Anchors Away!

As I toiled over a Powers on the rocks and a Black Market Burger with the two Davids last night, Frankie and Jack (in Ryan Werner and Rene Bastian fashion) toasted two Sex on the Beaches replete with umbrellas on their cruise ship.  The anchors are up, the non-existent sails unfurled, and the AARP aged cruiseliner is en route to Cartagena with a quick stop in Aruba.  Ahoy!

As an aside, ever the non-traditionalist,  I'll be flying on Sunday direct to Bogota.  As I end this, it's important to note as another aside, this not only represents Mr. Latina's first foray on foreign soil, but might be the first time in cinema history that a director is transported via cruise ship to location.

Von Trier has his camper.  Latina has a four hundred some foot boat.  To each their own!


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