Okay, so let’s start this
again. Who am I and what the fuck am I on about? I am Isabelle, chief
stewardess and author of this once successful blog. As promised right in the
beginning, this blog was likely to be like most things that I start and never
finish. But here I am again to regale you of my tales of my life at sea.
Why am I back? A couple of
reasons really; firstly because my blogging ended rather abruptly when I was
forced to shut it down due to my infringement of a few confidentially
agreements and some trust. But mainly the confidentiality agreements. Secondly,
because I am a narcissist. And thirdly, because I have moved on to a new boat
and just as it was when I first moved on to The Good Ship with Captain
Chutney and the likes, I am working for a turbo-dick which requires me to
vent into cyber space for the sake of my sanity.
*****
So after my time on The Good Ship
(voluntarily) came to an end, Kay and I decided to spend a blissful week in
the Caribbean partying, diving and laying on the beach, before we headed back
down to the Southern Hemisphere to visit our respective families for Christmas.
There I spent a further two months partying, roadtrippin’ and laying on the
beach. I did plan to use much of that time writing, and were I able to get my
arse off the couch, I would have told the stories of the rest of my time aboard
The Good Ship and how it came to an end. I would have amused you with the story
of the swinger’s charter, during which a very successful cabin sweep came up
with a leather g-string and a gimp mask, both of which Kay put on her head. Or
how Mini Me
became an annoying little leg-humper and found herself looking for new
employment before the season ended. I might even have gone as far as to recount
the stories of how I no longer had any excuse to keep the peace with Gale after
he discovered my
blog, and how he took a special delight in inviting everyone to his wedding
except me. I would have followed that up with the Leader’s plan to invite me as
his plus one (before he got uninvited) and how I was thus robbed of my
opportunity to upstage Gale’s
bride in a white frock and get pissed at his open bar while he seethed into the
sleeves of his monkey suit. I would have topped it all off with the coup de grace, of how Gale got
beaten up by his wife on his wedding night, called the cops on her, and had his
dearly beloved spend the night in jail. Married even shorter than Brittney
Spears. But alas, I didn’t.
I did, however, get a lot
of procrastinating done. Oh, and I got a great tan.