By JennyAtLAX
January 24, 2015

Dear Diary,

The MV Drinkwater® has effectively aided my blow and departure from Gold Base!  It’s Day 2!  There are, however, a couple of things that I’ve had to wade through, so-to-speak:

When I booked my cabin with the MV Drinkwater® Vacation Planner, I asked for an ocean view, but upon arrival, I discovered that I had been thrown into the room next to the Aft Lounge, called ,”The Chain Locker,” a small, dark, noisy hole-in-the-wall (“The Hole”).  It doesn’t even have an overhead light; maybe the fuse is dead.  Normally, there’s a treat on the bed when you arrive.  Nothing!  Where’s the cabin steward?  When I called for a set of clean towels, nothing!

In the middle of the night, howls from the fiery fiend that watches over all evil spirits woke me. Fumbling in the dark, I shouted, “Who’s there?!”

I had been asleep for what seemed like a billion years when all of a sudden, the hair on my arms stood straight up, clearly a warning of the woe and suffering yet to come.

As my eyes strained to focus, I perceived what looked like a prisoner-of-war camp. Then I heard the clanging of chains, followed by images of undernourished demons in human form right before my very eyes.

The creepy, blank, far-away stares in their gaunt faces stamped a most indelible impression upon my soul that can never be removed!  They looked as though they hadn’t slept for days, weeks!  And then they spoke a lingo most bizarre:

The Hole works great doesn’t it? The Hole makes you feel good! You could actually stay in the Hole forever, JennyAtLAX. That would be so sane. We’re doing so well here. We missed you. Are you afraid?

Scared sh*tless is more like it, I thought. Without warning, a scream gurgled from within me as the other one spewed his poison:

Careful! You’ll lose your throat!

I gave the command: “Could you – could you demons – could you demons move on please?”

Their stench completed the ghoul’s profile: MarcAtLAX, the most senior officer of the Cherch of $cientology International (“C$I”), and DaveAtLAX, a C$I executive, holding a rusted video camera in a hand most skeletal.

And I paid for a f*cking private room!

I’ve been trying to find the Vacation Planner aboard, but her office, along with all the other ship offices, are empty. She doesn’t answer her phone, either, but I hit the jackpot when I sent her a text:

Dear MV Drinkwater® Vacation Planner:

I requested a private room with an a ocean view, you c*ck-sucking piece of sh*t, but all I got for my $666 is a stinking “Hole.” You even charged my credit card for an ocean view! I tried to book my own room online, but even your website didn’t work. Where are you? You’ve apparently abandoned your f*cking post.

Stop committing suppressive acts, full time suppressive acts, full time. Unbelievable. Just end it. Go live a life. Why don’t you get a life, man. Just get a life. You’ve had zero effect, none. And nobody gives a f*ck about you. That’s the truth. Nobody has even noticed you’re gone, man.



The Vacation Planning Bitch answered:

Dear JennyAtLAX:

I booked you in a private cabin with an ocean view, and billed you as such. Have a pleasant voyage.


MV Drinkwater® Vacation Planner

Well, that didn’t help. Besides, how can you argue with a text?

I know nobody’s perfect, but this is the worst cruise I’ve ever been on.

Later, I made my way to the dining room, perturbed that I didn’t see a Continental breakfast outside “the Hole.”  But when I got to the dining room, the doors were locked; outside that room sat four vending machines, their coin slots taped over. The first machine is labeled, “Breakfast”; the second, “Lunch”; the third, “Dinner”; the fourth, “Whatever.”  Apparently, I’m supposed to eat the crap from these machines.

The “food” is the worst I’ve ever had on any cruise. You call that “good quality with a great selection”? The food’s not even served casserole-style; it’s worse than gruel or mush!

Where’s the f*cking waiter?