Captain’s Log: Stardate 10260.3
In light easterly winds shifting north, the course in last evening’s race was close to pathetic. The first mark was a fetch, there were no jibes and the finish was a fetch. In a race like that, the start is everything – then it’s a parade to the finish. And our start was horrible. The crew did a great job of genoa tacking and spinnaker setting – and our defeat last night rested solely on my shoulders.

On board last night were the usual suspects, except for Richard, Deb and Lefty. We were all amazed at the sudden reappearance of Ensign Brad Nassau, whose acting career has gone so far off Broadway that to get to Times Square, he’d need a plane ticket.

The best part of last night had to be after the race. After establishing orbit, out came the beer, sodas, Doritos and Cheese Curls (a poor man’s Cheez Doodles.) We all sat on the bridge discussing whatever came to mind while Brad attempted to catch snapper (It took him and Mitch so long to assemble the pole that the fish caught on and left the area.)

Ensign Patty, who now has an official uniform – with built-in nipples, asked me to radio the USS Frolic because she left her pants on board over the weekend. I was sure to use the general hailing frequency so that everyone in the sector knew. Frolic located her pants and returned them to her (with a wet crotch area – insert your own joke here, there’s just way too many to choose from.) I suppose Jeff has some ‘splaining to do.

Lastly, Lt. Laura repeatedly explained that she was upset that my order to Jory to “Mount the penis” after the completion of the Women Skippers Race did not make it in the Captain’s Log. Happy now, babe?