Last day in St. Lucia - I've been overcome with that pathetic sadness that accompanies the last day of vacation. A woman just came up to me and asked if I was an author - I love it - wtf? I gave her a free book just for the compliment.. Her husband is lamenting the passing of Jesse Helms. I'm not even goin' there - don't get me started, I'm not kidding. Hot, hot, hot! Anyway - they just asked me to spell hors d'oeuvres and reminisce(they're writing a diary or blog) - fortunately I'm just about untoasted enough to tell them. There's a guy in their party who had his eyebrows dyed or bleached or something and they overcooked the procedure - he has a sticking plaster on each eyebrow - he looks like a boxer after a beating - it's too funny.
I am so looking forward to seeing my dog, sleeping on my water-bed, smoking a Black and Mild, having AC, drinking a Sam Adams, and blasting my music....
I have been considering the wisdom of my career choice. I actually always wanted to be a hairdresser, but felt that it was perhaps a little flitty or inconsequential an occupation - or at least, my father did. He used to repeat, as he punched me upside the head, "there is no way you're doing that faggy job, you little finoog - no effing way" - ah, fathers - the fount of all understanding and knowledge... Anyway - having become the captain of the Federation's flagship Starship has its perks, for sure - I get to say "make it so" whenever I like, and I get to call my first officer "number two" whenever the fancy takes me. Plus I get to say "Ahead, Warp factor 9" and "Lay in a course for the Devron System" - that kind of shit. I frankly have no fucking idea where we are at any given time - but all I have to do is sound convincing and they bloody do it - it's the best!
Causes Alex Grant Supports
Southern Poverty Law Center