First of all I would like to introduce the latest in the never-ending cast of characters that is my company. I am going to call him "Spray on". Why would I call him that? Because he has one of the creepiest tans that I have ever seen. It never goes away! Regardless of the time of year. Now if we were at home I would just chalk it up to another emasculated metro-sexual going to the tanning beds all the time. However, we are here and I know for a fact that there isn't a tanning bed anywhere to be found. Apparently the complexion of the Afghani's is such that there is no money for "LA Tan" to make here. Nevertheless his tan has not so much as faded in the almost 3 months we have been in the suck. It's creepy.
Which, to me, says but one thing, HE SPRAYS IT ON! Hence his moniker. Well spray on runs the flight line here; he's one of those guys who are the complete opposite of me. First of all he's skinny, but then on top of that he has complete control of himself at all times. Which if any of you who know me can attest, I have the temper of a wolverine on PCP. Anyways, we were working the other day and he came up and gave me the idea for the title of this post.
Now what the hell is the deal with the "5 gallon bucket brigade"? Well I'll tell you, everything here breaks at one time or another. Literally, everything breaks. At one time or another. Now whenever something breaks we usually have to wait months while the part to fix whatever it is comes in, and in the meantime we have to do by hand what used to be done by some mechanical contraption.
In this case, the thing that broke was a really big moveable gas tank that we use to fill an even bigger but immoveable gas tank on the other side of the FOB. Now when this thing is broken we have to fill this really huge gas tank using 5-gallon gas cans that we use to keep extra gas on our trucks.
So this damn tank broke, and sure enough they came and found me and some guys from my platoon to fill this thing. 5 gallons at a time. Fun for us. I was told by someone who loves to see me angry that the tank we had to fill held 2000 gallons. So off we go, filling one can with fuel, then emptying it into the tank and so on and on and on...
Now if it is true that the tank held 2000 gallons and we were filling this damn thing 5 gallons at a time that means we would have to have dumped 400 of these cans in there. And we were taking 10 cans back and forth to the fuel point every time so we had to do that how many times? For you math majors out there it is 40 times.
Well luckily for us the big tank that they use to fill the bigger tank got fixed right in the middle of us doing this little exercise and we didn't have to finish. Thank God, there was only so many times I could've done that before I would've taken a rag, soaked it in fuel, stuffed it into the tank and turned that fucking thing into the biggest Molotov cocktail the world has ever seen.
And then we played beer pong. Yes, I know there is no alcohol allowed in AssCrackIstan, which seems counter intuitive to me. They are always preaching that we need to keep morale high, well why not slip us a little booze every now and then. I mean really, is it too much to ask? A beer or two after an IED would definitely get the ringing out of your ears.
But we do have this non-alcoholic piss water that they keep around for God knows what. I do believe that it is an evil joke being played by all the military brass. Now enlisted men know that the brass can pretty much get whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want. Every enlisted man also knows that we cannot. So in order to entertain themselves at our expense they put something that looks like beer, tastes somewhat akin to beer and does in fact smell like beer in the chow hall. So that every time you walk past this shit, if nothing else you are cruelly reminded of just how badly your life sucks. As you stare at this can you start to dream of all the good times you had drinking with your friends, all the times you found a girl who was probably about as cute as a mule's ass but you were drunk so she looked like Brittany Snow, all the times you found a girl who was as pretty as Brittany Snow and thank God she was drunk because otherwise she would've seen that you did in fact, look like a mule's ass prior to waking up next to you the following morning. Ah, God bless beer.
Hey Benjamin Franklin once said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy!" And he invented bifocals, how could he ever be wrong?
Yes, enough of that tangent and back to the beer pong. We held the first annual Monthly Waza Khwa Beer Pong Tournament. (Yes, we know that monthly and annual don't go together. Up yours, it’s our tournament.) And we played. Whipping ping-pong balls around the MWR like it was your favorite spot back home. And drinking this piss water, I still feel like ass, and so this completes the cruel joke. Not only do you get none of the benefits of real beer, but also you actually do get all of the shitty parts. Well someone send my thanks to the procurement department of the military "chow hall stocking committee".
And we played beer pong for about 5 hours. I managed to get all the way to the championship round but I lost, which sucks. And I have yet to figure out exactly why we wanted to torture ourselves like this. Think about it. We are in a place where there are people who are trying on a fairly constant basis to end our lives, not to mention we have to work pretty much perpetually doing some of the stupidest shit you could ever come up with and yet we want to remind ourselves on a fairly regular basis of all the great shit we don't get to do anymore. Sounds like self-loathing to me. But I digress.
Anyways, we have been snowed on for about 3 days now so nothing else has been going on.
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
P.S. Hey spray on, the S.O.G. will get his comeuppance sometime soon. Just searching for a little inspiration.
Jan 16, 2009
Two Soldiers In A Combat Zone, Watching A Musical...and Puppies...
Yep, that's right, Pigpen and I were just caught sitting around in the dark watching a musical. The musical? "Little Shop of Horrors" So maybe that's a little to the left of heterosexual on the straight scale, but quite frankly who gives a shit. It's snowing and we don't have a damn thing to do but sit around, and there are only so many rounds of spades you can play before you are ready to shoot someone. So we decided to watch a musical. If this is a world in which two men can't sit around and watch a musical, then this is a world in which I don't want to live.
And now I sit here writing this and listening to, "I Kissed A Girl" Dear Lord, what has happened to me here? I think that people are starting to wonder.
Moving on, another way to know you are in Afghanistan or at least to know you are in a foreign country. The movies that you buy from Haji are packaged about 20 movies to a disc. Yep, 20 to one disc. And they all have the words, "Can play on any dvd-player or computer dvd-rom". Not to mention the one that I just got today was "apparently" put out by Nike. Copyright infringement can be fun. Best part is that this disc works perfectly and cost only $5.00, God I love this country.
Also, I would like to send kudos to Airman mom, who came through big time without even knowing it. A while back she sent me a Rubiks cube that I have really done nothing with, until the last 3 days. So I spent the last three days (literally) turning this and spinning that, and trying to figure out how I could remove and replace the stickers without it being noticeable. I worked on that damn thing for hours on end until I just said, "fuck it" and went and downloaded some instructions on how to do it from the internet. AND THEN IT STILL TOOK LIKE 6 HOURS FOR US TO FINISH IT. I am really beginning to think that the longer I spend here, and in the Army in general, the dumber I get. However, it did kill three whole days.
Well what has been going on around here? Nothing, nada, niet, not a damn thing. So what happens when members of the military get bored? Nothing good. Not from the lower enlisted soldiers or mid-level NCO's but straight from the top. They got bored and sent us crashing down the 8th level of suck!
I can't even get into all of them due to the fact that my head would probably explode but suffice it to say that our chain of command spewed forth a pile of literary excrement (thanks, Kasper) that they called an S.O.P. (standard operating procedure). Which outlines all the places we can and cannot go, and how we can and cannot get there, and where we can be and when, and a myriad of other things that most likely no one will pay any attention to. The best one by far and away is the "ground guide" rule. For those of you who don't know a ground guide is someone who directs a vehicle around, from the ground. It is a safety precaution that the military uses to prevent accidents. Sounds good to me, how about you? The problem is that they take things to ridiculous lengths. Usually ground guides are used to get large vehicles around in tight places, and to get all our vehicles around the FOB at night. But we have to use these guides during the day! I couldn't resist, I told them that I get the ground guide at night thing, but why the hell do we have to use them during the day? The answer I got was that they were worried about soldiers running out in front of the vehicles and getting hit.
So basically our chain of command just told us that we are too damn stupid to know to look both ways before we cross the street! Ah, it's always nice to know that my superiors have such a high level of respect for my counterparts and I.
And here are the puppies...
Lastly, above are pictured a couple of the puppies we found under one of the B-huts here at the FOB. AWWW, They're SOOOO Cute! The next few months are going to be interesting as I am trying to get one of these guys home, and the rest to an animal rescue place up in Kabul. Given our command policy regarding animals this is going to be entertaining to say the least. It is kind of funny though, throughout my time in the military I have been in trouble for drinking, for insubordination, for fighting, for...you get the idea. I find it a little funny that here in AssCrackIstan, I am going to get into trouble for smuggling puppies!
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
P.S. A little note to my cousin Kenny. He has been posting my entries on another website of an apparently "family friendly" organization. I don't know how true that characterization is given how it makes it's money but whatever. However, he has been censoring my writing. Which I find hysterical. Reading my posts and seeing a bunch of XXXXXXXX's all over the place just makes me happy. Well first I would like to say to Kenny, "Thanks pal" and I would also like to say...
FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCK. And FUCK FUCKITTY FUCK FUCK FUCK (Try censoring that!)
Sorry about the language mom...
And now I sit here writing this and listening to, "I Kissed A Girl" Dear Lord, what has happened to me here? I think that people are starting to wonder.
Moving on, another way to know you are in Afghanistan or at least to know you are in a foreign country. The movies that you buy from Haji are packaged about 20 movies to a disc. Yep, 20 to one disc. And they all have the words, "Can play on any dvd-player or computer dvd-rom". Not to mention the one that I just got today was "apparently" put out by Nike. Copyright infringement can be fun. Best part is that this disc works perfectly and cost only $5.00, God I love this country.
Also, I would like to send kudos to Airman mom, who came through big time without even knowing it. A while back she sent me a Rubiks cube that I have really done nothing with, until the last 3 days. So I spent the last three days (literally) turning this and spinning that, and trying to figure out how I could remove and replace the stickers without it being noticeable. I worked on that damn thing for hours on end until I just said, "fuck it" and went and downloaded some instructions on how to do it from the internet. AND THEN IT STILL TOOK LIKE 6 HOURS FOR US TO FINISH IT. I am really beginning to think that the longer I spend here, and in the Army in general, the dumber I get. However, it did kill three whole days.
Well what has been going on around here? Nothing, nada, niet, not a damn thing. So what happens when members of the military get bored? Nothing good. Not from the lower enlisted soldiers or mid-level NCO's but straight from the top. They got bored and sent us crashing down the 8th level of suck!
I can't even get into all of them due to the fact that my head would probably explode but suffice it to say that our chain of command spewed forth a pile of literary excrement (thanks, Kasper) that they called an S.O.P. (standard operating procedure). Which outlines all the places we can and cannot go, and how we can and cannot get there, and where we can be and when, and a myriad of other things that most likely no one will pay any attention to. The best one by far and away is the "ground guide" rule. For those of you who don't know a ground guide is someone who directs a vehicle around, from the ground. It is a safety precaution that the military uses to prevent accidents. Sounds good to me, how about you? The problem is that they take things to ridiculous lengths. Usually ground guides are used to get large vehicles around in tight places, and to get all our vehicles around the FOB at night. But we have to use these guides during the day! I couldn't resist, I told them that I get the ground guide at night thing, but why the hell do we have to use them during the day? The answer I got was that they were worried about soldiers running out in front of the vehicles and getting hit.
So basically our chain of command just told us that we are too damn stupid to know to look both ways before we cross the street! Ah, it's always nice to know that my superiors have such a high level of respect for my counterparts and I.
And here are the puppies...
Lastly, above are pictured a couple of the puppies we found under one of the B-huts here at the FOB. AWWW, They're SOOOO Cute! The next few months are going to be interesting as I am trying to get one of these guys home, and the rest to an animal rescue place up in Kabul. Given our command policy regarding animals this is going to be entertaining to say the least. It is kind of funny though, throughout my time in the military I have been in trouble for drinking, for insubordination, for fighting, for...you get the idea. I find it a little funny that here in AssCrackIstan, I am going to get into trouble for smuggling puppies!
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
P.S. A little note to my cousin Kenny. He has been posting my entries on another website of an apparently "family friendly" organization. I don't know how true that characterization is given how it makes it's money but whatever. However, he has been censoring my writing. Which I find hysterical. Reading my posts and seeing a bunch of XXXXXXXX's all over the place just makes me happy. Well first I would like to say to Kenny, "Thanks pal" and I would also like to say...
FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCK. And FUCK FUCKITTY FUCK FUCK FUCK (Try censoring that!)
Sorry about the language mom...
Don't Ask, Don't Tell...
So a nice young lady asked me what I thought of Obama's plan to overturn the "Don't ask, Don't tell" policy that has been in effect since the Clinton administration.
Well let me begin by saying that I kind of feel about this the same way that I feel about gay marriage.
If I have to endure the abject horror that is marriage just because I am straight, why should these guys be shielded from it just because they're gay?
First let me say that I have absolutely no problems with gay people, in fact I love gay men! That's right I love gay men. Why? Because every gay man there is, is one less guy I have to compete with for skirts. I wish every man were gay...except me.
Not to mention I am fully in support of lesbian marriage as well...so long as both lesbians are really, really hot...kidding.
Alright enough of the jokes.
I would support the dissolution of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy for the simple reason that I don't think that sexual orientation should mean shit when it comes to military service. There is no task, or training, or event in the military that has anything to do with who you fuck. The military, whether it likes it or not, has got to evolve along with society.
I mean at one time, blacks were not allowed to serve in the military at all. Then when they were allowed to serve, they were not allowed to serve alongside whites, they had their own segregated units. Society got over that, so why the hell can't they get over this.
I don't know maybe they should start with all gay units under straight officers. Then we could move on to integrating them into the service as a whole. This could actually be fun, station them in a new fort in San Francisco and they could wear a rainbow patch. That would be hilarious.
In the last election and in the recent past, a lot has been made of the politics of inclusion as opposed to division. I, for the life of me, cannot understand why we as the most advanced, and (supposedly) civilized nation on earth would still cling to the idea that someone is unfit for military service because of who they like to boink. Wait a second, it's not even that, because obviously the government has realized that gay people are more than capable of serving. They just can't serve and let people know that they are gay at the same time. Basically, what they are saying is that the military is full of unenlightened fucking cavemen who couldn't deal with a gay man or woman being around without their head's exploding. Which, sadly is probably true.
The sexual culture of the military as a whole is something that is deserving of a long, and exhaustive psychological study in sexual dysfunction. I mean we spend all this time worrying about gay people in the military, yet very little attention is paid to the absolutely abysmal divorce rates in the military, not to mention the insane amount of infidelity (geographic bachelor's anyone), throw in a rape or two, and the fact that most of our females are just as bad as the guys, and you have a recipe for a gigantic shit sandwich.
With all of that going on, I'd have to say that gay people are the least of the military's worries.
On the flip side, the policy also serves to protect the gay people who want to serve from the ignorant, fuck sticks that the military seems to love so much. When the policy gets overturned there will be at least a few military members who come out of the closet and when they do, there will be at least a few of them that feel the heat for it.
So there's that, and that would suck. But at least everyone in the military should know how to defend themselves and we all have guns so maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I think. But it probably would be.
Then there is always the religious thing. Let's get one thing out of the way right away, the U.S. military is unabashedly Christian. You want to argue with me you can but no one is going to convince me otherwise. I probably have about 6 Bibles that have ACU pattern covers, I was given a New Testament when I was at MEPS, I got another one in Korea, I got a few more here, and on and on. They have a "non-mandatory prayer time" prior to every mission, and how many military chapels or churches have you seen that were not Christian. I saw a Mosque at Fort Bragg but it was just a room in a building, not a stand alone building like the chapels I have seen elsewhere.
Unfortunately, religion and I have never really gotten along. God, now he's another story. I am a big fan of God and all that he/she teaches. I was raised and educated in a Lutheran school, regrettably for them I was also raised by my mother who made a questioner out of me. Now God tells us to love our neighbors and treat others as we would want to be treated. Then the church goes and throws in "unless they are gay". Well then God goes on to say somewhere in that book of his/hers "Judge not, lest ye be judged" Now that's a good one. Because it seems like the only thing that the church is really capable of anymore is judging people. Seems like God may have known ahead of time that at least a few people would run around being douche bags in his/her name.
Note: Going off on a tangent now.
I guess the whole thing with gay people comes down to whether they are born that way or if something happens to them that makes them that way. I cannot for one second believe that something makes them that way. I may be wrong, but it breaks down like this for me. When I was younger no one had to tell me that something was going on when Phoebe Cates got out of the pool in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" and took her top off. My little soldier let me know, loud and clear, that something was UP!
I was never told to like girls, I was never trained or conditioned to like girls. It just kind of happened, naturally. I would venture a guess to say that it is the same thing for gay people. Except that they get all riled up for James Bond, instead of the Bond girl.
Note: Now I'm back.
So I figure that the dissolution of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy is a necessary step in the evolution of our military to mirror the evolution of our society. It's not going to be easy, simply because there are still some real assholes floating around. So that's what I think about Obama's plan for the policy.
And now I am done.
Later,
I love you mom...
Well let me begin by saying that I kind of feel about this the same way that I feel about gay marriage.
If I have to endure the abject horror that is marriage just because I am straight, why should these guys be shielded from it just because they're gay?
First let me say that I have absolutely no problems with gay people, in fact I love gay men! That's right I love gay men. Why? Because every gay man there is, is one less guy I have to compete with for skirts. I wish every man were gay...except me.
Not to mention I am fully in support of lesbian marriage as well...so long as both lesbians are really, really hot...kidding.
Alright enough of the jokes.
I would support the dissolution of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy for the simple reason that I don't think that sexual orientation should mean shit when it comes to military service. There is no task, or training, or event in the military that has anything to do with who you fuck. The military, whether it likes it or not, has got to evolve along with society.
I mean at one time, blacks were not allowed to serve in the military at all. Then when they were allowed to serve, they were not allowed to serve alongside whites, they had their own segregated units. Society got over that, so why the hell can't they get over this.
I don't know maybe they should start with all gay units under straight officers. Then we could move on to integrating them into the service as a whole. This could actually be fun, station them in a new fort in San Francisco and they could wear a rainbow patch. That would be hilarious.
In the last election and in the recent past, a lot has been made of the politics of inclusion as opposed to division. I, for the life of me, cannot understand why we as the most advanced, and (supposedly) civilized nation on earth would still cling to the idea that someone is unfit for military service because of who they like to boink. Wait a second, it's not even that, because obviously the government has realized that gay people are more than capable of serving. They just can't serve and let people know that they are gay at the same time. Basically, what they are saying is that the military is full of unenlightened fucking cavemen who couldn't deal with a gay man or woman being around without their head's exploding. Which, sadly is probably true.
The sexual culture of the military as a whole is something that is deserving of a long, and exhaustive psychological study in sexual dysfunction. I mean we spend all this time worrying about gay people in the military, yet very little attention is paid to the absolutely abysmal divorce rates in the military, not to mention the insane amount of infidelity (geographic bachelor's anyone), throw in a rape or two, and the fact that most of our females are just as bad as the guys, and you have a recipe for a gigantic shit sandwich.
With all of that going on, I'd have to say that gay people are the least of the military's worries.
On the flip side, the policy also serves to protect the gay people who want to serve from the ignorant, fuck sticks that the military seems to love so much. When the policy gets overturned there will be at least a few military members who come out of the closet and when they do, there will be at least a few of them that feel the heat for it.
So there's that, and that would suck. But at least everyone in the military should know how to defend themselves and we all have guns so maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I think. But it probably would be.
Then there is always the religious thing. Let's get one thing out of the way right away, the U.S. military is unabashedly Christian. You want to argue with me you can but no one is going to convince me otherwise. I probably have about 6 Bibles that have ACU pattern covers, I was given a New Testament when I was at MEPS, I got another one in Korea, I got a few more here, and on and on. They have a "non-mandatory prayer time" prior to every mission, and how many military chapels or churches have you seen that were not Christian. I saw a Mosque at Fort Bragg but it was just a room in a building, not a stand alone building like the chapels I have seen elsewhere.
Unfortunately, religion and I have never really gotten along. God, now he's another story. I am a big fan of God and all that he/she teaches. I was raised and educated in a Lutheran school, regrettably for them I was also raised by my mother who made a questioner out of me. Now God tells us to love our neighbors and treat others as we would want to be treated. Then the church goes and throws in "unless they are gay". Well then God goes on to say somewhere in that book of his/hers "Judge not, lest ye be judged" Now that's a good one. Because it seems like the only thing that the church is really capable of anymore is judging people. Seems like God may have known ahead of time that at least a few people would run around being douche bags in his/her name.
Note: Going off on a tangent now.
I guess the whole thing with gay people comes down to whether they are born that way or if something happens to them that makes them that way. I cannot for one second believe that something makes them that way. I may be wrong, but it breaks down like this for me. When I was younger no one had to tell me that something was going on when Phoebe Cates got out of the pool in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" and took her top off. My little soldier let me know, loud and clear, that something was UP!
I was never told to like girls, I was never trained or conditioned to like girls. It just kind of happened, naturally. I would venture a guess to say that it is the same thing for gay people. Except that they get all riled up for James Bond, instead of the Bond girl.
Note: Now I'm back.
So I figure that the dissolution of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy is a necessary step in the evolution of our military to mirror the evolution of our society. It's not going to be easy, simply because there are still some real assholes floating around. So that's what I think about Obama's plan for the policy.
And now I am done.
Later,
I love you mom...
Jan 13, 2009
The Friendly Ghost's Monkey With A Typewriter Experiment...
-Guest post from a fellow member of my platoon.
If you lock a hundred monkeys in a room with typewriters they will eventually bang out the works of Shakespeare, so by that logic if you lock one monkey in a tower with a pen and a notebook he should be able to write a guest post for his friends blog. So here goes.
I will start off this failed experiment of a guest post by telling you a little about me. Since MudPuppy likes to give everyone in this unit a fun pseudonym you can call me Friendly Ghost. I joined the military six years ago in high school and have been faithfully serving my country one weekend a month two weeks a year since then. I get to check the box labeled “some college: no degree” since I spent a few years a Western Illinois University. I have held several jobs in my life the top three are, Working at St. Charles Country club, A loss prevention officer at Kohl’s, and my favorite one Hot Dog Vendor at WIU. I love to procrastinate (just ask Mudpuppy how long he has been waiting for me to write a guest post for him). I love to read, mainly works of Fiction and Sci-Fi, but I will read the hippy tree hugging literary vomit which MudPuppy likes, because every now and then they bring up good ideas and have good points. I am also a self proclaimed nerd because I like well… nerd stuff. And yes I do enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach. But that’s enough about me.
I figure I will start off this post with a rant about something at took place a couple of nights ago while on ECP, while guarding the FOB from non-existent attacks from the Taliban but mainly fighting off hypothermia. My team was doing one hour shifts, which means while one of us was defending the FOB, the other two were sleeping. However there is only one cot at ECP which means that while one person is sleeping on the cot, the other person can either sit on a chair or try to sleep on the floor for an hour then you switch out. It was about 3am or 0300 for you military types when it became my turn for the cot, and after an hour spent unsuccessfully trying to sleep on the floor I was looking to a little one on one time with the only piece of comfort in the entire ECP. So I get up ready to deposit myself on the cot and drift off to sleep, my team leader goes and sits down on the cot thusly dashing my hopes of lying down in comfort. Needless to say I am somewhat peeved so I ask him, “Can you sit on the chair?” Now keep in mind at 3am after lying on a cold floor for an hour I am about as friendly as a Bear who watched someone kick its cubs in the face, so it may have come out somewhat rude but it was still a reasonable request, however my team leader replies with “No.” So after I am able to digest this response I politely inform him that I would like him to “get off the fucking cot so I can lie down and go to sleep.” He then goes and tells me that I will be fine sitting for 5-10 minutes. I then chose at this time to bite my tongue and sit down on the cot, because as much as I sometimes do not like it I still somewhat respect the military rank structure. While I am sitting down on the cot when I should rightfully be laying down sleeping, I start to chuckle to myself over the entire situation, I chuckle because I know my team leader very well and if someone were to do that to him he would have pitch a fit and gone on and on till the person finally caved in a got off the couch, that or if it was a member of his team he would have sent them off to do some entirely pointless task so he could get the cot. So I’m sitting there when my team leader lets out this classic piece of verbal excrement, “If you would have asked nicely, I would have gotten up.” To which I planted a “Bullshit” flag on right away. This is because everyone has said that at one point in their lives or another and 99% of us know perfectly well that they would have never done it even if the person asked you sweetly enough to give you diabetes. And given how well I know my team leader I know that he is not in that 1% category. I mean I love the guy but as a team leader he cares way to much about himself and his own petty bullshit for me to respect him as a team leader anymore than I do, which I can say I do. I know the job is not an easy one but the team he has makes it easier for him then any of the other team leaders out there. I know that I may be somewhat biased when I describe the events which took place that night, but this is my post and I get to tell it how I see fit. So it goes.
Ranting about that just gave me a deeper respect for what MudPuppy does with this blog, it is a very safe and therapeutic place to bitch about what is going on which is a good thing and everyone needs to do it at least once in their life. So with that I give you Friendly Ghosts second rant of the post.
I have been in this company for six years. I know that our CO well, oks our CO sucks, and that the senior leaders do not always make sense on their decisions, but this is not a bad company. It is a good National Guard military police company. Do not get me wrong we are not perfect by any means, but we have learned to deal with things we cannot help and we did not bitch (as loudly or as much) as is going on now. Saying that most of the bitching started when we got inserts from other companies, at first we got inserts from other MP companies so there bitching was understandable and relevant. But some of their bitching was “this isn’t how we did it in my old company.” To which all I have to say is “that’s because this is not your old company, this is your new company.” Then we started getting inserts from other MOS’s who started to constantly bitch about why do we do this or why did we do that and of course there was always, “ this isn’t how we did it in the (insert other military occupation here).” We even have a soldier who likes to say “This is bullshit; this isn’t how we did it in Iraq.” I just want to say to all of them with bitches like that “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” We are a Military Police Unit, a peacekeeping, combat support branch of the military, which means we do things differently and have tactics which help us fulfill those roles. However what is most important is that you volunteered to come to this unit knowing full well that we are MP’s and a National Guard unit. We do things differently and you may not agree with it but unless you have a valid constructive comment to make during a meeting or when someone asks you something, just shut your freaking pie hole. This leads me to the senior leaders of my platoon to include the Team leaders of my squad, I say my squad because I do not know how the other squad’s team leaders deal with each other. I know that you all do not get along all of the time or for that sake like what each other has to say all the time, but you do not need to turn everything into a pissing contest. Oh My God. Someone said something you do not agree with or something you find ill advised. How about you bring up how you think it can be done in a respectful adult way, and if the person does not agree with you then you sit back and just follow the order, instead of turning it into yet another pointless pissing contest. Because in a pissing contest this big there will always be splash back and I only have so many clean uniforms. So it goes.
I have used So it goes a couple of times in this post for two reasons, One I just finished re reading Slaughterhouse Five and I really like that book, and Two, I suck at transitions when it comes to writing, I usually just email the paper to my sister and have her fix it (thanks Sis) That is usually the reason I do not write as much as I should or would like to. That and I hate looking at my hand writing and spelling. However I must say that I have found this to be an enjoyable experience and for those of you who make it through the minefield of misspelled words and grammar errors I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.
Thank you
Friendly Ghost
P.S.
Love you mom and dad
And I'll leave you with another picture that I put together, I hope you like it.
If you lock a hundred monkeys in a room with typewriters they will eventually bang out the works of Shakespeare, so by that logic if you lock one monkey in a tower with a pen and a notebook he should be able to write a guest post for his friends blog. So here goes.
I will start off this failed experiment of a guest post by telling you a little about me. Since MudPuppy likes to give everyone in this unit a fun pseudonym you can call me Friendly Ghost. I joined the military six years ago in high school and have been faithfully serving my country one weekend a month two weeks a year since then. I get to check the box labeled “some college: no degree” since I spent a few years a Western Illinois University. I have held several jobs in my life the top three are, Working at St. Charles Country club, A loss prevention officer at Kohl’s, and my favorite one Hot Dog Vendor at WIU. I love to procrastinate (just ask Mudpuppy how long he has been waiting for me to write a guest post for him). I love to read, mainly works of Fiction and Sci-Fi, but I will read the hippy tree hugging literary vomit which MudPuppy likes, because every now and then they bring up good ideas and have good points. I am also a self proclaimed nerd because I like well… nerd stuff. And yes I do enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach. But that’s enough about me.
I figure I will start off this post with a rant about something at took place a couple of nights ago while on ECP, while guarding the FOB from non-existent attacks from the Taliban but mainly fighting off hypothermia. My team was doing one hour shifts, which means while one of us was defending the FOB, the other two were sleeping. However there is only one cot at ECP which means that while one person is sleeping on the cot, the other person can either sit on a chair or try to sleep on the floor for an hour then you switch out. It was about 3am or 0300 for you military types when it became my turn for the cot, and after an hour spent unsuccessfully trying to sleep on the floor I was looking to a little one on one time with the only piece of comfort in the entire ECP. So I get up ready to deposit myself on the cot and drift off to sleep, my team leader goes and sits down on the cot thusly dashing my hopes of lying down in comfort. Needless to say I am somewhat peeved so I ask him, “Can you sit on the chair?” Now keep in mind at 3am after lying on a cold floor for an hour I am about as friendly as a Bear who watched someone kick its cubs in the face, so it may have come out somewhat rude but it was still a reasonable request, however my team leader replies with “No.” So after I am able to digest this response I politely inform him that I would like him to “get off the fucking cot so I can lie down and go to sleep.” He then goes and tells me that I will be fine sitting for 5-10 minutes. I then chose at this time to bite my tongue and sit down on the cot, because as much as I sometimes do not like it I still somewhat respect the military rank structure. While I am sitting down on the cot when I should rightfully be laying down sleeping, I start to chuckle to myself over the entire situation, I chuckle because I know my team leader very well and if someone were to do that to him he would have pitch a fit and gone on and on till the person finally caved in a got off the couch, that or if it was a member of his team he would have sent them off to do some entirely pointless task so he could get the cot. So I’m sitting there when my team leader lets out this classic piece of verbal excrement, “If you would have asked nicely, I would have gotten up.” To which I planted a “Bullshit” flag on right away. This is because everyone has said that at one point in their lives or another and 99% of us know perfectly well that they would have never done it even if the person asked you sweetly enough to give you diabetes. And given how well I know my team leader I know that he is not in that 1% category. I mean I love the guy but as a team leader he cares way to much about himself and his own petty bullshit for me to respect him as a team leader anymore than I do, which I can say I do. I know the job is not an easy one but the team he has makes it easier for him then any of the other team leaders out there. I know that I may be somewhat biased when I describe the events which took place that night, but this is my post and I get to tell it how I see fit. So it goes.
Ranting about that just gave me a deeper respect for what MudPuppy does with this blog, it is a very safe and therapeutic place to bitch about what is going on which is a good thing and everyone needs to do it at least once in their life. So with that I give you Friendly Ghosts second rant of the post.
I have been in this company for six years. I know that our CO well, oks our CO sucks, and that the senior leaders do not always make sense on their decisions, but this is not a bad company. It is a good National Guard military police company. Do not get me wrong we are not perfect by any means, but we have learned to deal with things we cannot help and we did not bitch (as loudly or as much) as is going on now. Saying that most of the bitching started when we got inserts from other companies, at first we got inserts from other MP companies so there bitching was understandable and relevant. But some of their bitching was “this isn’t how we did it in my old company.” To which all I have to say is “that’s because this is not your old company, this is your new company.” Then we started getting inserts from other MOS’s who started to constantly bitch about why do we do this or why did we do that and of course there was always, “ this isn’t how we did it in the (insert other military occupation here).” We even have a soldier who likes to say “This is bullshit; this isn’t how we did it in Iraq.” I just want to say to all of them with bitches like that “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” We are a Military Police Unit, a peacekeeping, combat support branch of the military, which means we do things differently and have tactics which help us fulfill those roles. However what is most important is that you volunteered to come to this unit knowing full well that we are MP’s and a National Guard unit. We do things differently and you may not agree with it but unless you have a valid constructive comment to make during a meeting or when someone asks you something, just shut your freaking pie hole. This leads me to the senior leaders of my platoon to include the Team leaders of my squad, I say my squad because I do not know how the other squad’s team leaders deal with each other. I know that you all do not get along all of the time or for that sake like what each other has to say all the time, but you do not need to turn everything into a pissing contest. Oh My God. Someone said something you do not agree with or something you find ill advised. How about you bring up how you think it can be done in a respectful adult way, and if the person does not agree with you then you sit back and just follow the order, instead of turning it into yet another pointless pissing contest. Because in a pissing contest this big there will always be splash back and I only have so many clean uniforms. So it goes.
I have used So it goes a couple of times in this post for two reasons, One I just finished re reading Slaughterhouse Five and I really like that book, and Two, I suck at transitions when it comes to writing, I usually just email the paper to my sister and have her fix it (thanks Sis) That is usually the reason I do not write as much as I should or would like to. That and I hate looking at my hand writing and spelling. However I must say that I have found this to be an enjoyable experience and for those of you who make it through the minefield of misspelled words and grammar errors I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.
Thank you
Friendly Ghost
P.S.
Love you mom and dad
And I'll leave you with another picture that I put together, I hope you like it.
My Mom Told Me, "Stop Beating A Dead Horse"...
Am I the only one who finds it even remotely humorous that I, at 30 years old after having graduated from college and served over a decade in the military with all the requisite bullshit that comes with that am still subject to her shit.
Basically, what I am saying is that even though I have managed, for the most part, to cut the apron strings and spend the majority of my adult life (with a few notable exceptions) out from under her autocratic rule. I still find myself doing what she tells me to. Maybe I am a mama's boy, but quite frankly I don't give a shit. She's cool, She's the mom.
So I am going to get off the "making fun of my chain of command" thing for a bit here. Which is what she was referring to with the "dead horse" comment. And I am going to show my loving affection for my dear old mother, and I am going to show that affection the only way that I know how. I am going to make fun of her...mercilessly! (She said it was OK)
First story.
This one happened when I was a baby. So I don't remember it, but it has been relayed to me several thousand times over my life and I am relaying it to you.
My mom used to sing to me, like so many other mothers, she sang "You Are My Sunshine" Which I am pretty sure was written just for me, because well...I am a bright fucking ray of sunshine! Aren't I. Anyways, I would fall asleep to her singing me this song. Now I learned later on in life, in church no less, that my mother has the singing voice of a wounded wildebeest. So my father said, quite accurately I believe that I would fall asleep so that she would stop singing! Anyone who has ever heard my mother sing would agree.
Second story.
So one day my mom, my kid brother and I go to McDonald's. She pulls the car up to the drive through and we are behind a couple of cars and she starts asking us what we want and we tell her. So one of the cars pulls up and she thinks that it is our turn. She pulls up, and turns from us and starts shouting our order into...a TRASH CAN. Now I guess that could be chalked up as an honest mistake, but immediately thereafter my brother and I start laughing at her. She turns back to us, and asks what the hell we are laughing at, and we don't tell her. Why would we this is too much fun. Then she turns back and starts asking the trash can if it had gotten our order. Finally after conversing forcefully with the trash can for about a minute she finally realized her mistake and quickly pulled forward all the while cussing my brother and I out as we continued to laugh hysterically at her.
Third story.
My mom and I were in the car when I was in junior high I think. So we always had trouble with the windows. We could never agree on up or down. So she had finally got a car with power windows so that she could control them from her seat. And lock them so I couldn't undo her evil window plans. So one day I decided to play a little joke on her. She was rolling up my window as we got onto the expressway and right as it got to the top I put my fingers up to the top of the window. Not in the window, but from her side of the car it probably looked a lot like my fingers were caught in the window. Then at about 60 MPH I started to scream in pain. I think that this was my most ill-conceived joke I have ever played on my mother. Why? Because she damn near killed us both. She swerved across three lanes of Chicago traffic while trying frantically to roll down my window. My faux screams of pain, became real screams of terror! I made myself a promise that I would not play any more jokes on the mom while in a moving vehicle. Not out of sympathy for her, but out of concern for my own self preservation.
Fourth & Final Story.
My mom is terrified, absolutely, totally, completely, ridiculously afraid of snakes. Now I grew up near a holding pond, that had little gardner snakes. Not poisonous or anything, but just enough snake to scare the living shit out of her. So I was playing with one when I was a kid, I guess I was about 10 or 11 or something like that. I don't remember exactly what happened but I managed to stick this snake into my mom's bag of clothes pins that she kept in the back yard for hanging up clothes. And I proceeded to forget that the snake was in there. And my mom brought the bag back into the house and put it away. So the next day she wanted to hang up some clothes, so she went in the cupboard to get the bag and what did she find? He clothes pins were moving, so she stuck her hand in there and she damn near had a heart attack. Now being a young kid and not wanting to die prior to puberty I wisely kept the fact that I had put the snake there to myself. Oh yeah, she ran away from the bag screaming and called my grandfather to come and get the snake out of the house. So for years she thought that this little snake had managed to crawl into the bag on its own and she had accidentally brought it in with the clothes.
The next part of this story is tough, because I am not sure that words could do it justice. But I'll try.
So when I was 24 I got married. We had the ceremony and blah blah blah, and we get to restaurant where the party is going to be. And my auntie, God bless her big mouth, says, "Hey isn't there something you should tell your mom" She wheels around and looks right at me like I am about to tell her that this is really a shotgun wedding and my new bride is 2 months pregnant. If I remember correctly, I think she balled her fists in order to pummel me if that was in fact the case.
I looked at her, and related the story of how the snake really got there.
All I can really say is her jaw hit the floor, the look of surprise and utter disbelief is pretty much indescribable.
When she finally regained her composure she unclenched her fists, called me few choice names, and started laughing about the whole thing.
Luckily, this episode taught me what the statute of limitations is on crimes against my mother. 13 or 14 years. Which is good because I have a few things that will be fun to tell her in 7 or 8 more years!
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
Basically, what I am saying is that even though I have managed, for the most part, to cut the apron strings and spend the majority of my adult life (with a few notable exceptions) out from under her autocratic rule. I still find myself doing what she tells me to. Maybe I am a mama's boy, but quite frankly I don't give a shit. She's cool, She's the mom.
So I am going to get off the "making fun of my chain of command" thing for a bit here. Which is what she was referring to with the "dead horse" comment. And I am going to show my loving affection for my dear old mother, and I am going to show that affection the only way that I know how. I am going to make fun of her...mercilessly! (She said it was OK)
First story.
This one happened when I was a baby. So I don't remember it, but it has been relayed to me several thousand times over my life and I am relaying it to you.
My mom used to sing to me, like so many other mothers, she sang "You Are My Sunshine" Which I am pretty sure was written just for me, because well...I am a bright fucking ray of sunshine! Aren't I. Anyways, I would fall asleep to her singing me this song. Now I learned later on in life, in church no less, that my mother has the singing voice of a wounded wildebeest. So my father said, quite accurately I believe that I would fall asleep so that she would stop singing! Anyone who has ever heard my mother sing would agree.
Second story.
So one day my mom, my kid brother and I go to McDonald's. She pulls the car up to the drive through and we are behind a couple of cars and she starts asking us what we want and we tell her. So one of the cars pulls up and she thinks that it is our turn. She pulls up, and turns from us and starts shouting our order into...a TRASH CAN. Now I guess that could be chalked up as an honest mistake, but immediately thereafter my brother and I start laughing at her. She turns back to us, and asks what the hell we are laughing at, and we don't tell her. Why would we this is too much fun. Then she turns back and starts asking the trash can if it had gotten our order. Finally after conversing forcefully with the trash can for about a minute she finally realized her mistake and quickly pulled forward all the while cussing my brother and I out as we continued to laugh hysterically at her.
Third story.
My mom and I were in the car when I was in junior high I think. So we always had trouble with the windows. We could never agree on up or down. So she had finally got a car with power windows so that she could control them from her seat. And lock them so I couldn't undo her evil window plans. So one day I decided to play a little joke on her. She was rolling up my window as we got onto the expressway and right as it got to the top I put my fingers up to the top of the window. Not in the window, but from her side of the car it probably looked a lot like my fingers were caught in the window. Then at about 60 MPH I started to scream in pain. I think that this was my most ill-conceived joke I have ever played on my mother. Why? Because she damn near killed us both. She swerved across three lanes of Chicago traffic while trying frantically to roll down my window. My faux screams of pain, became real screams of terror! I made myself a promise that I would not play any more jokes on the mom while in a moving vehicle. Not out of sympathy for her, but out of concern for my own self preservation.
Fourth & Final Story.
My mom is terrified, absolutely, totally, completely, ridiculously afraid of snakes. Now I grew up near a holding pond, that had little gardner snakes. Not poisonous or anything, but just enough snake to scare the living shit out of her. So I was playing with one when I was a kid, I guess I was about 10 or 11 or something like that. I don't remember exactly what happened but I managed to stick this snake into my mom's bag of clothes pins that she kept in the back yard for hanging up clothes. And I proceeded to forget that the snake was in there. And my mom brought the bag back into the house and put it away. So the next day she wanted to hang up some clothes, so she went in the cupboard to get the bag and what did she find? He clothes pins were moving, so she stuck her hand in there and she damn near had a heart attack. Now being a young kid and not wanting to die prior to puberty I wisely kept the fact that I had put the snake there to myself. Oh yeah, she ran away from the bag screaming and called my grandfather to come and get the snake out of the house. So for years she thought that this little snake had managed to crawl into the bag on its own and she had accidentally brought it in with the clothes.
The next part of this story is tough, because I am not sure that words could do it justice. But I'll try.
So when I was 24 I got married. We had the ceremony and blah blah blah, and we get to restaurant where the party is going to be. And my auntie, God bless her big mouth, says, "Hey isn't there something you should tell your mom" She wheels around and looks right at me like I am about to tell her that this is really a shotgun wedding and my new bride is 2 months pregnant. If I remember correctly, I think she balled her fists in order to pummel me if that was in fact the case.
I looked at her, and related the story of how the snake really got there.
All I can really say is her jaw hit the floor, the look of surprise and utter disbelief is pretty much indescribable.
When she finally regained her composure she unclenched her fists, called me few choice names, and started laughing about the whole thing.
Luckily, this episode taught me what the statute of limitations is on crimes against my mother. 13 or 14 years. Which is good because I have a few things that will be fun to tell her in 7 or 8 more years!
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
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...
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...
Jan 11, 2009
Your Questions, Answered...I Think...
Alright, In my last post I asked you guys to ask me some questions. About anything really. I asked you that mostly because with me being on guard most of the time nothing really funny or interesting is happening so I had to find something to write about or risk becoming a bore. So here are your questions and my answers to them.
Airman Mom
1. What is the morale of my unit? Depends on when you catch us and what members of our leadership is around. For the most part it is shit. But we put on a good facade when the bosses are around due to the simple fact that they don't really care if we have good morale or not they just want us to say that we do and make sure we tell everyone else that we do. They function on the age old principle of "The beatings will continue until morale improves."
2. Is there a particular smell that will always remind you of this deployment? Good question, I don't think that there is any one smell that could possibly describe how badly everything here stinks. I think it will be the combinations of horrid smelling things that we come up with around here to describe the actual smell that will stick with me the most. Some examples, kitty litter and ass, rotten eggs and diesel, anchovies asshole and 3 day old fish, and things like that.
However, the epitome of deployment smells is, and has always been, the wonderfully disgusting smell of burning shit. 5 gallons of diesel and a can of GI shit, light it up and you have the epitome of deployment smells.
3. Would I do it again? Yep, in a nano second. Matter of fact after all I have seen here and all I could be doing and we as a military could be doing that we are not I think I am going to have some unfinished business here. So I think I might have to go on home and get me a little bit of rank so that the next time I come here I can actually make some kind of a difference in not only the Afghani's lives, but also that of the soldiers around me.
Steve.
1. Do I work with Air Force guys? Well Steve, I would like to extend a hearty welcome to you, albeit early, to the suck. However, I don't really work with Air Force guys. My experience with them is limited to talking to them on the radio as they fly 8000 feet overhead providing air support while I drive around this shithole.
Joyce.
1. If I were President what would I do? Send every soldier in Iraq here, then completely close the Pakistani border. Build a school for Afghani's at every corner. Pepper the mountains with battalions of GI's and hunt these pricks down and kill every last one of them (Taliban). Then I would build a highway (paved) from every village to the big cities. And a million other things but those are the main ones. Maybe I'll answer that more in depth some time soon.
2. Am I getting much news? Nope, mostly because I ignore it. This place is depressing enough without watching the news.
3. Do I blog from a computer lab? Sort of, I write my shit on my own computer in my barracks room, and then I take it on a disk over to the computer lab and put it up.
4. Can I describe my living quarters? Sure, concrete building with crumbling concrete floors, to the point where it is mostly a dirt floor. Concrete exterior walls and plywood interior walls peppered with graffiti from all the guys who have lived here in the past. There are 2 bunk beds in each room but luckily we have enough space that only 2 guys have to live in most rooms. The bunks are made of wood, and we have whatever shelves we could scrounge up from the scrap wood piles and build for ourselves. Other than that they are just covered in ACU pattern clothes and weapons and other military shit that we have to keep track of. We actually got it pretty good as far as living quarters are concerned.
5. Did we get our warm clothing? Nope still haven't got it but we all had a shit ton of stuff sent from home to keep us warm and we have been alright, we were blessed with a decidedly mild winter.
6. Women in combat? I am an MP and we have women around that do all the same shit that I do. Getting shot at and blown up and the lot of it. Whatever we do they do. Some of them are better at it than most of us are anyways. Now they don't serve in the actual combat arms jobs but in this war everyone gets into the mix sooner or later. Unless they are fobbits of course.
As far as the women are concerned and their "skankiness". To tell you the truth I could care less what they do, and who they do it with. I mean I can't really blame them. If I was someplace where the females outnumbered guys like 4 to 1, I would be taking full advantage of that.
Kasper's Sister.
7. Sorry, I have no idea how to ship things here from England. We only have one address so that is probably the only way to get it here. (And your message has been delivered)
8. My rating scale for women? I go with the "beer" scale. It's time tested and has been proven accurate again and again. Goes like this.
Guy One: How many beers till you would hit that? (Referring to a girl)
Guy Two: One Case!
Meaning that the girl in question is not at all attractive. The less the number of beers the more attractive said female is.
How many guys cheat on their wives? Some of their wives may read this, so NONE!
How many to a room? Anywhere from 2 to 4.
Are the shitters heated? Yes, and that makes it worse. At least in winter the shit would freeze and wouldn't smell as much but with heated shitters we have to go to do our business in what has become nothing more than a shit oven. Fun for us.
Library? Nope, only what I get from the mom, and my friends and family, and all of you guys.
Air Force? Not a one.
Ignorant Redneck.
My intestines are fine. The food actually isn't horrible. I would feed it to a dog so I guess I can deal with it.
Do the mountains eat our tires? I got to admit for the most part they hold up pretty well. The mountains put a little bit more wear and tear on the tires but it is the exploding roads that really fuck up the tires. Know what I mean?
7.62 or 5.56? Good question, I would have to say that our 5.56 rifles win on accuracy but on rate of fire and power the 7.62 wins. Not to mention the 7.62 rifles don't require as much maintenance and we all know that the most terrifying sound a soldier can hear is "click"
Billy.
Yep, we still have someone burning the shit. Except now we have the locals do it. Only problem is the smell still wafts all over the place and we still get stuck with it when we fuck up.
Well folks, there you have it, your questions answered. I hope. If you have anymore bring them on. I could use the inspiration, guard cycle is boring as sin, but at least the roads don't explode here.
I am done for now, but check below I finished up the "Grandma, sit down until Frank is done singing" post.
Later,
I love you mom...
Airman Mom
1. What is the morale of my unit? Depends on when you catch us and what members of our leadership is around. For the most part it is shit. But we put on a good facade when the bosses are around due to the simple fact that they don't really care if we have good morale or not they just want us to say that we do and make sure we tell everyone else that we do. They function on the age old principle of "The beatings will continue until morale improves."
2. Is there a particular smell that will always remind you of this deployment? Good question, I don't think that there is any one smell that could possibly describe how badly everything here stinks. I think it will be the combinations of horrid smelling things that we come up with around here to describe the actual smell that will stick with me the most. Some examples, kitty litter and ass, rotten eggs and diesel, anchovies asshole and 3 day old fish, and things like that.
However, the epitome of deployment smells is, and has always been, the wonderfully disgusting smell of burning shit. 5 gallons of diesel and a can of GI shit, light it up and you have the epitome of deployment smells.
3. Would I do it again? Yep, in a nano second. Matter of fact after all I have seen here and all I could be doing and we as a military could be doing that we are not I think I am going to have some unfinished business here. So I think I might have to go on home and get me a little bit of rank so that the next time I come here I can actually make some kind of a difference in not only the Afghani's lives, but also that of the soldiers around me.
Steve.
1. Do I work with Air Force guys? Well Steve, I would like to extend a hearty welcome to you, albeit early, to the suck. However, I don't really work with Air Force guys. My experience with them is limited to talking to them on the radio as they fly 8000 feet overhead providing air support while I drive around this shithole.
Joyce.
1. If I were President what would I do? Send every soldier in Iraq here, then completely close the Pakistani border. Build a school for Afghani's at every corner. Pepper the mountains with battalions of GI's and hunt these pricks down and kill every last one of them (Taliban). Then I would build a highway (paved) from every village to the big cities. And a million other things but those are the main ones. Maybe I'll answer that more in depth some time soon.
2. Am I getting much news? Nope, mostly because I ignore it. This place is depressing enough without watching the news.
3. Do I blog from a computer lab? Sort of, I write my shit on my own computer in my barracks room, and then I take it on a disk over to the computer lab and put it up.
4. Can I describe my living quarters? Sure, concrete building with crumbling concrete floors, to the point where it is mostly a dirt floor. Concrete exterior walls and plywood interior walls peppered with graffiti from all the guys who have lived here in the past. There are 2 bunk beds in each room but luckily we have enough space that only 2 guys have to live in most rooms. The bunks are made of wood, and we have whatever shelves we could scrounge up from the scrap wood piles and build for ourselves. Other than that they are just covered in ACU pattern clothes and weapons and other military shit that we have to keep track of. We actually got it pretty good as far as living quarters are concerned.
5. Did we get our warm clothing? Nope still haven't got it but we all had a shit ton of stuff sent from home to keep us warm and we have been alright, we were blessed with a decidedly mild winter.
6. Women in combat? I am an MP and we have women around that do all the same shit that I do. Getting shot at and blown up and the lot of it. Whatever we do they do. Some of them are better at it than most of us are anyways. Now they don't serve in the actual combat arms jobs but in this war everyone gets into the mix sooner or later. Unless they are fobbits of course.
As far as the women are concerned and their "skankiness". To tell you the truth I could care less what they do, and who they do it with. I mean I can't really blame them. If I was someplace where the females outnumbered guys like 4 to 1, I would be taking full advantage of that.
Kasper's Sister.
7. Sorry, I have no idea how to ship things here from England. We only have one address so that is probably the only way to get it here. (And your message has been delivered)
8. My rating scale for women? I go with the "beer" scale. It's time tested and has been proven accurate again and again. Goes like this.
Guy One: How many beers till you would hit that? (Referring to a girl)
Guy Two: One Case!
Meaning that the girl in question is not at all attractive. The less the number of beers the more attractive said female is.
How many guys cheat on their wives? Some of their wives may read this, so NONE!
How many to a room? Anywhere from 2 to 4.
Are the shitters heated? Yes, and that makes it worse. At least in winter the shit would freeze and wouldn't smell as much but with heated shitters we have to go to do our business in what has become nothing more than a shit oven. Fun for us.
Library? Nope, only what I get from the mom, and my friends and family, and all of you guys.
Air Force? Not a one.
Ignorant Redneck.
My intestines are fine. The food actually isn't horrible. I would feed it to a dog so I guess I can deal with it.
Do the mountains eat our tires? I got to admit for the most part they hold up pretty well. The mountains put a little bit more wear and tear on the tires but it is the exploding roads that really fuck up the tires. Know what I mean?
7.62 or 5.56? Good question, I would have to say that our 5.56 rifles win on accuracy but on rate of fire and power the 7.62 wins. Not to mention the 7.62 rifles don't require as much maintenance and we all know that the most terrifying sound a soldier can hear is "click"
Billy.
Yep, we still have someone burning the shit. Except now we have the locals do it. Only problem is the smell still wafts all over the place and we still get stuck with it when we fuck up.
Well folks, there you have it, your questions answered. I hope. If you have anymore bring them on. I could use the inspiration, guard cycle is boring as sin, but at least the roads don't explode here.
I am done for now, but check below I finished up the "Grandma, sit down until Frank is done singing" post.
Later,
I love you mom...
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