Sunday, February 27, 2011

Romantic Girls

Apparently I missed the boat. I don't like romantic stuff like talking about crushes or flirting. My mom always told me that I flirt all the time, but I don't I'm doing it. I call it talking. Weird, huh? I just open my mouth and I'm automatically Mr. Romance. Right...

There's a girl on board ship that makes me want to rip my hair out because of her talk about boys. Alicia, if you ever read this, I'm just talking about how you talk, not about you. But the way you talk is the worst. Sorry.

She talks about Travis, she talks about the Captain! She acts like the world is filled with unicorns and ponies and pink sparkles. I don't think I've ever heard a single normal word out of her, and she's a med aid!

The reason for this post, ladies, is that I had to help her with loading samples a couple hours ago, and my mind is completely full of her gushy talk. I could probably tell it from memory, not even joking:

"Alicia, are we supposed to put this in sideways or up and down?"

"Ummmm....up and down. But did you see the new page boy? At the other end of the ship?"

"What, there's enough work in the page job for two people?" (Sarcasm in my voice, haha, duh.)

"Yes! I'm so glad! He's like, totally cute! I heard he's like a gentleman and he's really sweet to all the med aids! Not, like, all snobby."

"Oh. Not like me."

"Well, not exactly. You're just playing hard to get."

I blink. WHAT? "You actually think that?"

Alicia shrugs. "Why else would you be so sarcastic?"

"Did you ever think that might be just who I am?"

Alicia shakes her head. "Nope. Come on, these go in the stock room."

I was ready to go on arguing all day, but it's fricken obvious that she didn't ever think. She doesn't ever. Romantic girls suck.

-Terry S.

P.S. Just figured out it's valentines day today. Maybe the pink ponies'll disappear tomorrow.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Cheating Pizza

Hey. Managed to get one last time in at the internet cafe on Planet Colonial Marteth before we ship out tomorrow. The captain's the best, always on time and all that. Greatest boss ever.

The point of this post is that the creators of all that is awesome on PC Marteth cheated me on a pizza. It was basically the best pizza of my life; you know, cheese, sauce, and three meats.

What are the three meats you usually think of when they say "Three Meat Pizza"? My classic three meat pizza has sausage, pepperoni, and ham.

Ham. That's the important one here. So, guess what Marteth gives you instead of ham? Ground beef. Yeah, they should advertise like, "A burger and a piece of pizza combined! Buy today!"

The problem is that they didn't say what kind of toppings our classic three-meater had one it at our wonderful little cafe on Marteth. At least, not in big letters. I'm expected to have magnavision like the rest of the world of colonists and be able to read fine print from five feet away.

Pizza rocks, and its way better than the freeze dried gunk and tube stuff on the ship, but seriously, my hopes were up and then this dude broke them. I know that they have pigs and stuff here. Just slaughter one and make some ham! Stupid colonials.

Katrina gave me her crap today and told me that ground beef was healthier than ham. Ha, right, how does she know? "Med Aide Knows All!" I can just see her little advice booth onboard ship. She's full of advice. She thinks I should wear different clothes than my jumpsuit when I'm off ship so I won't embarrass her, and that I should gel my hair and wear contacts more. Yeah, like I care so much about that. Seriously, I don't pay that much attention to what I look like, but I'm cool as it is right now.

'Sides, mom always liked my hair messy. Haha-- I can just imagine Katrina's expression if I told her that. She'd probably say some biting remark about how I should make my own decisions. Sucks to be her, then.

I've been reading over the last two posts I wrote yesterday and the day before yesterday and I guess I sound like a moody sarcastic jerk. I guess I am sometimes. I'm pretty cynical; it's my biggest failing, gotta admit. Life isn't a fairytale for me, like it is for another med-aide (who I'll write about later, along with purple jumpsuit pajamas and Our Glorious Captain).

Then and again, when you've got to follow around a girl ALL DAY LONG that hates you, your guts, and your hair and clothes, you kind of start to dislike her too. I basically give what I get. She rubs me way the wrong way.

If we're ever in port again, I'll post my life again and make your day.

-Terry S.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

The earth says hello

More like "The Space says hello", or "the Planet Colonial Marteth says hello," but I couldn't do that, cause we don't have any quotes for that.

It's really early here; about six local time. Yeah, I hate getting up early, but the color of their sun is a flaming red and its pretty awesome to see it come up over the skyline.

Of course (duh) that's not the only reason I'm here on this planet. Yeah, I would take basically whatever chance I could to get off that stupid ship, but Tricia (the BEST) Malcolm (she's the comm tech) got a better idea and decided to slap me as a bodyguard for Star Trek girl from yesterday and send her off down to the planet to get samples. Probably blood and awesome stuff like that. It's the best.

At least I'm on the planet. I've heard of people that fall flat on their face when they get planetside after being on ship, but you only wish that happened to me. Katrina stumbled a little, but she didn't fall either.

Katrina is my buddy for the rest of the day. Ha, yeah, Tricia's standards of etiquette and all that stuff say that a Young Lady can't go off the ship by herself and has to have someone with her. Yeah, you got it, they went to the pageboy for the dirtside job.

If Tricia ever reads this, I'm glad I went. I saw the sun come up, and it was cool. And I don't have to do stupid errand boy jobs. Tricia's etiquette is the worst, but this works. Katrina's got a class-A chip on her shoulder, but I guess it won't kill me. If following her around all day means I can check out the internet and post on my blog, that works for me.

Ah, Katrina's heading out. I think she's trying to lose me. No such luck.

-Terry S.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Blogpost #1

This is for the guys that I left in the dust. You know who you are. The ones on earth, languishing in jobless misery.

That's the joke, though, right? I have a job, and it's the worst. I hate working in space. You know how they say that it's the people who make the job? Whoever said that sucks, because its true. My captain (Capn' Crunch, hahaha) thinks I'm his personal punching bag. The comm tech hates my guts.

But hey, that's life, right? I get to see the universe!

Ha. This is how I see the universe:

So I wake up in the middle of the night to an alarm blaring like crazy, and so, duh, I sit up in my bunk. Except my bunk is right next the the ceiling, so I hit my head. Whoever thought up the cabin design is the worst. So, with stars and moons and stuff spinning around my head, I climb down and try to see in the dark. It's hard, and my eyes aren't doing so well seeing with my concussion going on at the back of my head.

I manage to pull on my boots and stumble out from my closet of a cabin into the hallway. I'm basically freaking out. Seriously, I've been in space for four weeks, and this has never happened before. Ever. So, yeah, out in the hallway cabin is this other guy. I call him the Hulk, cause he's like a pillar of muscle. Probably the captain's bodyguard. Hahaha.

The Hulk is standing in the hallway in his red jumpsuit looking like he's got a class A hangover and gonna fall over. I probably look the same, so I'm not worrying about that.

"Hey, Travis!" (That's the Hulk's name)

Travis focuses his beady eyes on me like I'm this huge chunk of meat. Yeah, a chunk of meat in a purple sleep jumpsuit. I'm the only one who wears purple to sleep, and there's this whole thing with jumpsuits that I don't feel like explaining right now.

So Travis stares at me for forever and I say, "What's the alarm for?"

Travis grabs onto this thought and stands up straighter, beginning to stomp over to me. "You made the noise?"

Uh-oh. I step backwards and I'm thinking I'll hide in my cabin awhile. "No, it's not that. I don't know WHO made it."

Travis doesn't get it. All that muscle takes time to process complex thoughts like that. "You make it shut up!"

I turn to run back to my room, but he's too quick and he sticks me into noogie position. My neck is all but snapped when I hear a new voice.

"The noise is the alarm for docking at the spaceport, idiots."

Travis lets me go to look for the speaker (or because of her charming powers of reason) and I'm able to see a girl in a labcoat.-- a med aide There are so many med aides on this ship, it's the best. Especially the best when they don't try to help you when you've got a concussion and a sprained neck.

"Amateurs." The girl says.

What the heck is up with that? She's like, "I'm from Star Trek and I own this ship, and you're the idiot newbie, like some stupid lieutenant."

I'm new, yeah. Deal with it, girl. Alarms at night are kind of weird. Oh, yeah, I forgot. I was supposed to know what they were automatically, from the vulcan mind-meld everyone but me did when they signed up for a job on this ship.

Life sucks here, guys. The only great thing is the stars. They're so close.

-Terry S.