So I just got off the phone with my dear old mother. We were talking about this, that and the other when the subject of me coming home came up. She told me about a new restaurant that she found that she wants to take me to when I get home. I told her that would be fine, but the first place I wanted to go was always the same, and she knew exactly what I was talking about. Mothers are kind of funny that way. They pretty much know you so well that there is very little you could actually surprise them with. She knew that I wanted to go to “Parky’s” a hot dog joint on Harlem and Madison in Forest Park, IL. Greatest hot dogs on the planet. And to all my buddies at home, this is my blog so as far as this is concerned the argument is closed.
Then I told her that the bikers from the bar that I used to work at were going to come and get me from the airport or wherever the Army releases me from. To which she asked why no one had called her about this yet. You know, because she’s my mom and if anyone sees me before she does she will probably try to kill them. I told her not to worry, they are going to include her or risk their very lives. She then proceeds to tell me that she would be happy to ride on the back of one of their bikes! A proposition that I quickly forbade. She protested, why couldn’t she ride on the back of one of their bikes? I said, (with all due respect to my biker buddies) that there is no way that I would allow my mother to ride with one of them. It’s kind of funny how life changes over time. We go from mother protecting me from all those girls that I shouldn’t be hanging around with, but wanted to anyway, to me protecting her from all the guys that I don’t think she should be hanging around with. (Which basically encompasses all men!) But to cap it all off and to completely wrap my brain around the axle she finishes by saying, “What, why can’t I be a cougar like some of the other moms I know?” Then she asked me if I knew what a cougar was? Unfortunately, I do.
Really? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ll tell you why not, because I carry a firearm and I will gladly put several new holes in any guy that tries to make time with my mother. And as far as the cougar thing goes...Well let me say this.
Every guy has their MILF story. Every guy has their cougar story. Mine happened when I was seventeen. And knowing how I have told this story since then I can say in no uncertain terms that NO ONE will ever have a story like that involving my mother. Not if they value the breath in their lungs.
Now I know that my mom is a sweet old lady. Check that, pull the sweet part out. She is a ball-breaker of the first order. She is the toughest person that I have ever met. (And I work in a prison, and have been in the Army since 1998.) She is harder than a coffin nail and I love her to death just because of that. Now granted, she has softened a bit given her ever advancing age, but it doesn’t change the fact that when I or my brother need anything she comes through with a vengeance. And God help you if you were to ever fuck with one of us. She raised two boys on her own and made a couple of pretty good guys out of us. And I dare anyone to get in her way.
That being said, the cougar thing is a moot point just because it’s like this...
“Mom, I am pretty sure that you would make mincemeat out of any guy that came along anyway, so I ain’t worried. Even if one of the kids tried you would probably just leave him bleeding and broken on the floor.”
But still, just hearing her say it was disturbing. So don’t do that again! Please.
And just so you know, a few of the guys heard me yelling on the phone and now everyone of the FOB is asking me, “Hey, so I hear your mom is a cougar!” I hope you’re happy.
Now onto the next thing. It’s amazing what the presence of one person can do for your morale. The Friendly Ghost, whom most of you should know because of his “Monkey With a Typewriter Experiment” that he wrote for me a few weeks back. He went on leave and was gone for like a month. And he came back today.
Within five minutes of seeing him my morale shot through the roof, in a totally heterosexual, so very not gay way! And within that same five minutes he came up with a new motto for the ever expanding list. You’ll remember that a while back we wrote a whole bunch of mottos for the regiment, but apparently none of our submissions made the cut. I wonder what could’ve happened. Anyway, this is what he came up with.
“Leadership, It works until you ask it a question.”
How perfect is that?
At least now I have someone to talk to that has an intellect superior to that of a chimp. Which makes my day all the brighter.
Side Note: To the Friendly Ghost’s mom, if you want to know more about anything that I write or have any questions at all just ask me. He told me you were asking him about it at home and it agitated him a little bit. So if you got anything you want to know just ask. I’ll tell you whatever I can.
Moving on, not much else is going on. I’ve talked a little bit about this in the past but, 3rd platoon is running missions for the first time in like two months and they are managing to find every IED in this country. To which all I can really say is, “Better them than me.” And I still am wondering if I am going to hell for saying that. But none of them has gotten really hurt bad, and most importantly no one has died. I am beginning to wonder if the desensitization process that I am experiencing here is going to be permanent. Any time that something happens, regardless of what it is, I ask a simple question. “Did anyone die?” When I hear, “no” then I immediately want to go back to sleep and could care less about anything else to do with that situation. If it didn’t kill anyone then it’s not worth the time...
Pretty sick, huh?
I got to think about that a bit more.
I am done for now.
I love you mom...