Personal Log. Commodore's Liaison, Jean Sprat. 03.29.3001
The christening of the Liberace and crew orientation went well today. Dr. Leary came up with a brilliant treatment for Fergie's (the Commodore's French poodle) crab-walking condition. He placed her in a high speed gyroscope for thirty seconds. When Fergie popped out she was walking right side up again. It only lasted for thirty minutes, then she was back creeping around ass down and snout up, but it was just enough time to allow the Commodore to enter the christening with Fergie at his side. I really think Fergie's little captain's outfit was the talk of the crew.
The same couldn't be said for the Commodore's own choice of attire. He wore a vintage U.S. Civil War hat from a Union General, a large black down parka with "El Commodore" recently stitched on the front, stone-washed jeans, white orthopedic clogs and a chrome cane. He is so into his retrospective history, a fashion dubbed retro-hist. The idea is to mesh various pieces of fashion throughout history whether they actually match or not. I tried to explain that it would have been better to wear his official uniform, but the Commodore insisted he didn't want to come across as a stuffy boss to the rest of the crew. Actually, I think his exact words were, "bourgeois pimp". He prefers instead to be a "pimp of the people".
I myself wore a wonderful blue Armani X suit with a cream silk shirt. To accessorize I added a cream colored silk sash and a pair of black Maducci shoes. Admittedly, my eyes were a bit puffy this morning, but Dr. Leary was kind enough to give me an emergency lift.
I admit I am jealous of Mao Ling's hair. It's to die for. She's a sweet girl as well, though talking with her is sort of like having a conversation with a Chinese alarm clock.
I felt bad for our Cretian exchange officer, Ped Varook. Poor girl just seems lost in a human social setting. A few hours with Jean Sprat, however, and she'll be the life of the party. We exchanged a few pleasantries. She didn't seem so put out when I explained that I was once a woman. Apparently such gender changes are quite common in Cretians. It is a nice change to meet someone with an open mind about my condition.
The same couldn't be said for 1st Mate Beck. What a prick. It's men like that who make me ashamed to have a penis.
I am worried for Johnny Junior. The Commodore may have a difficult task ahead of him. His crew is young and inexperienced. Our pilot has the attention span of a thirteen year old boy in a brothel, our Chief of Security nearly called for a retreat when the volume on Mao Ling's voice box malfunctioned, and Beck (prick) looked like he wanted to vaporize everyone in the room.
I hope I can help Johnny Junior. It's been a long time since I've been on a star ship. Let's hope I didn't lose my skills when those filthy beasts took my breasts and ovaries and replaced them with a dumb-stick.
Oh, I better stop. I'm getting bitter again.
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