Don't leave a voicemail, seriously.

I'm about to start cooking (oy), but the open tabs right now are: the ST com I just joined, a certain place where things can be gotten by criminals like myself where I might be acquiring [redacted], the wiki page on the United Federation of Planets.

Something I am thinking about: what kind of shit life would it be to be the Ethicist on board the Enterprise? Do you suspect they shoot drugs and lay on the floor staring at the ceiling a lot? I have no evidence such a person exists, but the very idea of it cracks me up.

Ethicist (who we will call Tammy): Wait, I will use small words--Prime Directive.
Jim: Would you like to see my etchings?
Spock: I have a fifteen part bullet point presentation on why we could possibly circumvent the Prime Directive for...[Tammy tunes out]
McCoy: ...I have no reason to be here other than to deliver a folksy one liner that is either not PC or incomprehensible or both!
Tammy: Why will they not let me retire or transfer?

At any rate, Happy Mother's Day to the moms, and Happy Birthday to Amber!

eta: I know y'all are fiends--Check out the Engineering team of the Enterprise. HERE! This could be a companion piece to my fic, could not, depends on how you slant the page, my dear!