This picture of a craggy rock covered in bird shit is my subtle way of telling you that MY PICTURES HAVE ARRIVED! and I am stoked, and happy, and stoked, and you may have to put up with some wistful reminiscing-about-travel bollocks. My apologies in advance.

Because I am working on Saturday, tonight is my Friday night (as tomorrow is Australia Day, and therefore a lovely, lovely public holiday). As mentioned in an earlier post, this week is Sailor Week (or 'Fleet Week', as the people who are good at rhyming shit like to call it), and every venue from electro dance clubs to the indie pot bars will be flooded with crew-cuts.

Things I will say:

• "In the Navy, you can sail the seven seas! In the Navy, you can put your mind at ease!" (Accompanied by foot stamping and saluting.)
• So. Do you guys turn to Man Love when you're out at sea and lonely, and the ratio of men to women is about 3000:1?
• Skip? What sort of a name is that?
• Chuck? What sort of a name is that? Stop with the verbs already.
  
• I refuse to feel your biceps. Leave me alone.
• Does your Sergeant Major Lieutenant Officer Commander in Chief ever say, 'Swab the decks, me-hearties!' or am I confused?

Any suggestions appreciated.

(Before anyone tells me off for picking on their starched white suits, jaunty hats, very flat hair and shiny shoes, I was actually going to join the navy. And then I didn't.

Because I would've looked like a knob.

No, I'm kidding. They're alright.)