Who Lost What, Where?...

Ah, Ladies and gentlemen the douche baggery continues unabated. So here is the latest.

The other night, somewhere in Afghanistan, excuse me AssCrackIstan. Someone, lost something, somewhere. I don't know what they lost, I don't know where they lost it, and I don't know who lost it. All I know for absolute certain is that no one, I repeat NO ONE on my FOB lost anything, anywhere. That being said how did the powers that be decide was the best way for us to find whatever had been lost? They decided that the entire fucking battalion should account for ALL of their shit by serial number!

As I said before I have no idea what was lost because they never tell you. Which seems counterproductive. Am I the only one who thinks I would have a much better chance of finding something if I knew what it was prior to beginning my search for it? It seems rather stupid to just walk around picking shit up and asking your commander, "Is this it?" But I digress.

Now could whoever this dickbag is who lost something have been goodly enough to look for it at least until the morning? Nope, not a chance, this prick whoever he is decided to let the powers that be know about this misplaced item at 2300 at night.

So all military items are numbered. I figure it has something to do with the Army's unnatural obsession with paperwork. If there is no number what are we going to write down? Just kidding, I get the numbers, they are so you know who is supposed to have what and if they have the right one or not. I get it. What I do not get is how fucking small the numbers are and where they are located.

You would think that in order to facilitate checking these items for their numbers and in the spirit of utilitarianism that the military would've put these numbers somewhere that they could be easily seen and read, and recorded. Do they do that?

FUCK NO!!!!!

Let's say for example that an item that the Army needs a serial number from is an item that has to be bolted onto something. A table or maybe a vehicle or something like that. The moderately intelligent person would put the serial number on the face of said item. Where it can be seen not only when the item in question is freestanding but also when the item is installed into whatever the hell it has to go into. Where does the Army put it? On the underside of the damn thing so that you have to remove each and ever mother fucking one from the bracket it is installed into.

So like I said it came down from on high that we were to account for ALL of our shit IMMEDIATELY! Now taken literally that would mean wake up the entire FOB and get the numbers off all of their shit right away. Me personally, I would've been of the mind that we could probably do this in the morning but that is probably part of my problem with promotions. My uncanny knack for interpreting orders in whatever way makes them most beneficial to...me! Well, unfortunately they did not interpret that order the way that I would have and they got all of us up and got our numbers for all of our stuff at about midnight. Which is not the end of the world, I mean it sucks but I can deal with it.

What came next is what really busted my balls. Now when we first got here I was assigned to the room that is closest to the door in the barracks. Which means that whenever someone of a high rank needs something done by someone in this barracks they always choose me and my roommate. Why? Because they are lazy and cannot seem to walk down the hall and find someone else. Either that or I just do such a great job that they don't want to ask anyone else. (Yeah, I highly doubt that too)

So they got all of the numbers from our personal stuff, now they need all the numbers from the community shit. Guess who's door gets knocked on at 0100 to do this shit. I tell them ever so gently that, "I have motherfucking towers in the morning at 0700. They reply, "I don't care, we have to do this now!" Fun for me. Now after bitching up a hurricane, I resigned myself to my fate and started to help them find these numbers.

Well I could go over all the different numbers and how many times I had to read the same number, and how many times I heard, "What was the last 3 digits again? But I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that it took from 0100 to 0300 to pull this shit off. Then I had to go and do, get this, DFAC (dining facility) guard. Yes folks, that's right, someone has to guard the food at night around here. I figured that we could just lock the door but apparently the powers that be want to have their hot cocoa at midnight so we have to keep the damn thing open. I still find it funny that we have to guard a building that is behind a really big wall that is manned by soldiers with guns! Better watch out, some soldier might take 3 muffins instead of two. Holy shit!

Now that I had to do from 0300-0500 after which I had an hour and a half to sleep prior to getting my ass up in the towers. Which sucks because there is a mattress up there but we are not allowed to sleep. You know what folks, this shit is so stupid that I couldn't make it up if I tried.

0700-1500 in the tower, trying in many imaginative ways to stay awake. Then I came back and passed out for about 20 minutes prior to being awakened and asked, "Did your soldier leave something in her truck this morning?" Anyone know the answer to this question? Of course she did, or you wouldn't be asking me that now. So it turns out she left something pretty important in there, something you should keep track of at pretty much all times. So I have to do something about it. Which makes me happy, because now I am out of my mind pissed at the fact that I have slept for about an hour and 50 minutes out of the last 36 or so, and I have to deal with this.

So I go and talk to her, and after wading through the ocean of excuses we just settled on a satisfactory penance for her sins and we got on with our lives. Which meant her doing a rather "shitty" round of work, and I going straight to bed. So now I feel much better.

After I slept for a while I got up and I watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" today, and of course as luck would have it. Pigpen showed up for the end of the movie. In fact he walked into the room just as the main character (who is a guy, and is naked) turned around to see his love interest in the movie and to show his piece to all the world. So now I am sitting here with a naked man on my computer screen and Pigpen says something and I pause the movie to see what he wants. So let's take stock here. I am sitting alone in my room, and another man walks in, and I pause the aforementioned movie right at the point where there is a buck naked man and his piece on the screen.

Oh, the look on his face was worth my brush with gayness. The utter disbelief on his face coupled with the pained expression as he looked at the screen and finally, his question "What ARE you doing?.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall DVD: $20.00

Macbook computer to play DVD: $1199.00

Seeing Pigpen's face as he tries to figure out why there is a naked man on your screen: PRICELESS

Alright, I am done for now.

Later,

I love you mom...