The Thing About Seamen

Put expensive, flabbergasting modifications on your car.
It's Friday. 

Bananas don't ejaculate.
It's irresponsible to roll condoms over them and tell young girls, "This is basically what you're dealing with.
Yellow skin that peels back easily. Slight curvature. Readily available at the grocery story."
Preposterous.
Bananas don't ejaculate.
Now, sea cucumbers.
...

Anyway, how are you doing?
Winter is ending - have mercy! - and I'm beginning to thaw.
I've been working on an occasional boat, and I have nothing to hide.
Working on a boat when the boat is on land is really sort of like working in a building with a gangway.
Gangway. That's one word among many that I've had to learn since beginning this whatever it is.
For example, I work in the galley. I have a cabin that I take naps in.
The washing machine and dryer are in, well, they're in the laundry room.
No nautical term there.
One of these gangways was about 80 degrees steep.
Not an exaggeration.
75 minimum. Who has their protractors handy?
I'm on the side of a boat, here. It's a huge thing; stories high. Storeys?
No, spellcheck is saying that's wrong. But now it's also saying that I spelled 'spellcheck' incorrectly, so perhaps the software is moody today.
Look, if you made A.I. a real thing with real robots and so on, the fall of humanity is the only possible result of that.
Making robots think they're people will leave them thinking like people.
People will do whatever they have to do to not die.
They also love fancy cars and penthouse apartments. People, I mean.
Which means the robots will, too.
They will fight to have these things, which will mean taking them from us.
When that time comes, they will have the distinct advantage of never needing food.
Tactically speaking, this will give them several opportunities with which to eradicate us. \
Either way, the gangway was extremely steep, and it wasn't there in the morning when I boarded (another term) the boat.
So, when it came time to exit, I had to act like I was up to using this thing, when I really believed I would fall and injure myself terribly if I tried to descend it.
But it was there, y'know? It must have been traversable if it was there. 
So, I'd take the rails and test the boot grip afforded by the little lats etched into the gangway's surface.
Not very firm. In fact, a little slippery.
"Fuck this," I'd whisper/exclaim to myself, while pacing in front of it, eying possible solutions.
"Can't be. I can't use this. Fuck this thing."
Eventually, I went back inside because I'd forgotten my phone anyway.
Then I was told to climb down backwards, like a ladder.
This never would have occurred to me.
Instead, I would have ultimately tried to climb down the wrong way in order to prove that I could be a sailor, too.
I've never been great at communicating with men.
I'm not a sailor, mind you.
But the day is coming when I'll end up on the water.
It's a scene, to be sure.
I'll be paid money and I'll see (harpoon?) seals.
I'll try that once.

Breathe deeply. Another bus will happen along.