What's Below Deck: Meme-iterranean
Mediterranean is a very difficult word to spell.
Do you think that Ruben Ostlund, the writer-director of Triangle of Sadness, has watched Below Deck Mediterranean?
For the last week, this unscripted show has been my comfort food. For those of you that don’t know me and haven’t read my critically acclaimed book (yet!), I have an obsessive personality. Here is an excerpt that serves as proof:
“Sugar is my greatest vice. I have the palate of a middle-schooler with an expense account. At seven years old, I developed an addiction to tapioca pudding. I was hyper fixated by the chewable bubbles dispersed throughout the cup,so much so that I ate a quart of tapioca pudding a day for four weeks straight. This immediately broke down my digestive system. My mother took me to my pediatrician, who diagnosed me with lactose intolerance, explaining that while most people grow intolerant with age, I was one of the rare few who made themselves intolerant through overexposure.”
I have, on occasion, been known to hyperfixate on things until I get violently ill. Well, I’m here to report that that time has come after one week on the high seas. Like with most television, every episode follows a particular formula.
Captain Sandy, a seasoned blonde who inspires me to be a better leader, sits with the chief stew, bosun, and head chef to talk about the yacht guests’ “preference sheets”.
The yacht guests arrive with several demands and/or complaints.
The yacht guests leave and the entire boat crew meets to discuss their tips.
Triangle of Sadness follows influencers on a luxury cruise that (spoiler alert!) shipwrecks. What’s notable about the film is the way the crew emotionally prepares themselves to literally and figuratively eat sh*t to get a fat bonus from their clients. The premises are eerily similar.
Spot the difference: which one of these screen grabs is from an award winning Swedish satire on class?
No gen z, but there is something about the machinations of these service jobs that is so deeply tr*ggering.
Once upon a time, I was a terrible hostess/waitress. Working for a tip was the bane of my existence but it was the only way to keep the lights on as I believe I was paid $2 an hour (???!). For the most part, I have tried to forget I ever had this job. But, there’s something about Below Deck: Med that brings me back to my eight hour day shift at a barbecue restaurant in Union Square… But, that’s a story for a different email. In the meantime, let me know some of your restaurant horror stories in the comments.
If any of you are travel agents, I would like book a stay on Captain Sandy’s charter. Until then, I’ll be doing shows throughout the continental U.S.. I just hosted a sold out show in Seattle for 700 people. Today is Los Angeles. Next week is Austin, Houston, Denver and Minneapolis.
Ok, without further ado, here are some memes.
See you soon-ish.
So obscenely late to this, but back when I was bartending, a group of people whom I hated came in and no one else would touch their table. They kept ordering shots for their group (and stupid fcking obnoxious ones too), but at some point, one of those assholes left.
I still kept bring the same number of shots to the table and they built a pyramid out of all of the shots he obviously hadn't consumed since he'd left. I charged them for that full tab. They paid it and tipped on top of it.