Everyone is out on the island now, so no more surprise people showing up. Brad the chef continues to suck big hairy monkey balls. I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my entire life, including my older brother. Everyone on the island, literally everyone, feels basically the same way as I do. We spend at least an hour a day bitching about what a cocksucker he is. We are trying to organize a coup. For a while there we thought he might have a bit of an ally in Christina, the fourth single chick who, as I feared, is a total uptight prude.Christina is a walking stereotype. She grew up in a conservative Christian household in Minnesota. She was home schooled. She goes to a Bible college. She’s a violin performance major. She teaches Sunday school. Think of exactly what you might suspect a person filling this description would be like, and that’s exactly her. There is basically nothing interesting at all about her. I don’t think she’s ever really said an original thing or had an original thought in her whole life. After all, that would be thinking outside what the church has always told her to think. I probably sound a little overactive or cruel in my description, but I have a real problem with born-againers. Probably because I grew up in that type of household, so I have first hand experience with what total bullshit it is. Christina is actually way more annoying about her religious beliefs than all the Mormons combined. I like all the Mormons as individuals, even if we have different beliefs. But Christina is way more in your face about it. She leaves her Bible all over the day lodge, she freaks out and leaves when we watch Sex and the City (love you Jeff! Email me!). She even listens to hymns while washing the dishes.Anyway though, we thought for a moment there that Christina might actually not hate Brad. After all, she’s not allowed to hate anyone, according to her religion. But that all changed when even she saw his bad side after he stood over her shoulder when she was trying to grill salmon, constantly criticizing and telling her how she was doing everything wrong while never actually offering to help. Now she hates him too. Or as close as her religion will allow her to come.Still though, it’s annoying having a religious manager. So I told you guys before that the island is “dry,” right? Well, up until recently we non-married, non-affiliated folk had been following this rule not by the letter of the law, but by the spirit, i.e., not causing any sort of problem with drinking, nor even drinking very much, or very often. Last week, after a really long, stressful day at work, Mel and I kicked back with a glass (a glass, a) of red wine. Afterwards we foolishly left out the corkscrew and two glasses with slight wine residue in the bottom. Jesse came into our cabin the next day to use the shower and found the glasses. I was using the sink at the time, so I saw the event. So Jesse was walking around all morning in a big stink, acting all pissed off. I felt really bad about it…I didn’t want Jesse to be mad at me, so I went up to him and apologized. So what does Jesse do? He calls upper management on our asses! The problem is that he is Mormon and doesn’t drink himself, and therefore does not understand it or condone it when we, or anyone does.Anyway, so Mel and I are totally freaking out. Are we going to get fired??? We think. Now I’ve done my share of illegal substances in my day, driven underage, smoked pot innumerable times, and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten in trouble for any of it. Both of us are really good girls, so we’re not used to having to go to the principal’s office. So when we get off the island and head up to Rich’s office to face the music, we are very, very nervous. “Um, Riiich…we were supposed to come talk to you when we got off the island…” we sheepishly say. “Oh yea,” he says, “I’m supposed to give you a talking to. A stern talking to.” We cower. “So…you guys know the drinking policy, right?”“Yes…”“Okay. Nuff said.”That was it. That was IT. THAT is what we were working ourselves up about. This is what happens when you live on an island too long. Your sense of reality really gets skewed. Unfortunately though I don’t think we’re going to risk it by drinking on the island again any time soon. At least not for a while…Mel and I decided to celebrate our not getting fired by getting totally, totally smashed. After all, it was Fleet Week. The U.S.S. Howard had pulled up anchor in the Seward harbor, off loading 300 horny sailors onto the Seward scene, desperately searching for pussy. Needless to say we were stoked. Mel and I decide to head out to the American Legion for some bad karaoke. I decide to wear this black tank top that I have…it’s rather low-cut. Some might say revealing. The few of you that have seen it will know what I’m talking about. Anyway, there are always KFT people hanging out at the Legion, one of whom we saw was Rodney, the deckhand. “Woa! Your boobs are going to bite me!” he said, upon my finding him there. He’s a funny guy. He couldn’t stop talking about my boobs all night. Thanks to this fiasco my new nickname is apparently Boobs Magee. I could think of a lot worse things to be called.The sailors were rather disappointing however, nothing like you see on Sex and the City (love you Jeff! Email me!). Absolutely none of them was cute. This does not, however, imply that they didn’t try to talk to us. I talked to quite a few. I also got groped by quite a few when Mel and I mistakenly tried to dance in the next bar we hopped to, the New Seward. My ass was full out slapped by a seamen who as of now remains unknown. We both ended up going home alone that night. But we still had each other, right Mel? Brad however, ended up coming home with some hoochie he found in the Pit, the alcoholic’s bar at the end of town. According to Jacob Berg, this chick “had more letters in her name than teeth in her mouth.” Any of you that are familiar with Jacob Berg will realize that such a damning assessment must mean that she is pretty freaking skanky. Needless to say, this little tidbit of information has already spread entirely around the island, as well as to half the town of Seward I’m pretty sure.So what do you think would be a really good thing to do the day after going on a huge drinking binge and waking up with a pounding hangover? Why, go on the most difficult whitewater rafting trip of your life of course! Or at least, that’s what I figured. Mel, our friend Paul and I went rafting the next day on Six Mile River. My hangover abated just in time for me to get in the boat. It was AWESOME. All of the rapids were class 4 or 5, which is the toughest a rapid can be boated. None of us fell out, for which I was very glad.The next day Mel and I hung out with some seamen. It seems that in her inebriated state on Tuesday (hi Mel!) she had given our phone number to some sailor dude and invited him to go hiking with us. Of COURSE he calls, and of COURSE he has a friend. So we all drove out to Exit Glacier to have a look around. Unfortunately, neither of the sailors was very cute. If so, the situation would have been entirely different, and we probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere but our rooms with them, if you know what I mean. Anyway, as it was we took Jacob along to help neutralize the situation. The two guys were actually pretty nice, and flirtatious in a polite way. The big, black one complimented me on my cuticles. After hiking around we dropped them off at their boat without incident. I would have liked to have a tour of the battleship. I probably could have if I had been willing to do certain favors, but it really wasn’t worth it.