So here is how my day went...
I got to bed last night at about 0230 hrs. Why? Because I didn't want to leave this place and I wanted to enjoy as much of it as I could.
Then I got awakened by my alarm at 0530, I hit the snooze and slept until 0600 when Duby shook me up rather incessantly, saying that I was going to miss the flight. I couldn't help but thinking, "You mean the flight back to AssCrackIstan? The flight back to the suck? The land of exploding roads, and mountain mounted machine guns? Oh, that is what you mean. I am good with that, I'm more than happy to miss that flight!"
Alright, I'll get up. So I get up, jam all my shit into my ruck sack and a foot locker I just bought. (I had to buy the footlocker to transport the 20 cartons of cigarettes I had to get for all the GI's back at the FOB)
So anyways, we get over to the briefing room and they tell us that our flight is at 1100 hrs. Well thanks a bunch you pricks! You hauled my ass out of bed 4 1/2 hours prior to my flight. Well there is nothing like military timing.
Now they bus us over to the terminal to wait on this flight. 1100 comes...and goes. No flight, next scheduled flight is at 1500. 1500 comes...and goes. No flight, next scheduled flight is 1630. 1630 comes...and goes. No flight, next scheduled flight is 2100. 2100 comes...and we actually got on a plane. Now the real fun begins.
For those of you who have never been on a military transport flight, let me break it down for you. You march directly into what could only be described as a long tube that has a shit ton of hoses and wires and really important looking contraptions all over the walls, blinking lights all over the place and right down the middle is a metal scaffolding system that serves as the seats. There are 4 rows of seats, two on the outside attached to the walls of the plane and two more down the middle, back to back, attached to the scaffolding. Now the seats are not actual seats. They are webbing made of tow straps. Which after sitting on them for a few hours make your ass look like the hams that come in the net. (Do you know what I am talking about?)
So we jam this plane chock full of people and all their shit. And I get a lesson in what a sardine feels like...again. So we are putting along in this plane, who's name is "Christine" by the way. I should've known that Christine would be a temperamental bitch and she decided about an hour into the flight that she was going to have one of her major systems stop working. A whole lot of fun for me. It was actually cool though, because we had packed this plane so tight that the crew chief, who is responsible for keeping this pile of shit running, climb like a monkey along the scaffolding above our heads to get to the front of the plane to see if he could fix this thing on the fly. Well of course, he couldn't. So we had to turn around and come back to Qatar. We come to find out that there is no flights going back to the suck until tomorrow at 1300. Which can only mean that God does in fact love me and want me to be happy because I get to spend another day in paradise. Thank God for broken planes.
Fun fact: Qatar is one of those muslim nations that has a million and one rules about what you can and cannot bring into their country. Mostly having to do with booze and pornography. I mean we wouldn't want our people finding out what a great thing booze is, and we sure as shit wouldn't want them to lust and desire after women. I mean that would take their attention off of all the thirteen year old boys in the neighborhood. Can't have that now can we?
So they decide to go rifling through my shit and dig out my cheerleader calendar and my swimsuit magazine and Maxim and they took it away from me. Now I really appreciate the states. I can see taking away a gun or a bomb, but for Christ sake, MY MAXIM??? What the hell is wrong with you people?
In addition to that another funny thing was the fact that every time we had a flight, we had to line up on the flight line which is past customs and the terminal. So we had to emigrate out of Qatar to get to the flight line, and then we had to immigrate back in every time we missed a flight. So take a look at the paragraph above to see how many times I went in and out of Qatar today.
I am probably on some terrorist watch list back home now! I can see it the next time I go to get on a plane.
TSA Employee: Excuse me sir, why is it that on the 29th of January 2009 did you in fact, immigrate into, and out of Qatar 5 times!
Mud Puppy: Because I enjoyed them trying to relieve me of all my porn!
TSA Employee: This is no laughing matter sir. And how did you get to Qatar, we have no record of you ever leaving the country!
Mud Puppy: Of course you don't, Why would you? I was only off defending you and your family from the porn police!
Anyways, enough of that. Something at least a bit serious. We sat around all day in a holding tent waiting for these flights. Now over the years a lot of soldiers have cycled through this tent. And soldiers bore easily and then they do things to entertain themselves. One of the things they do is write on the walls. Yes, soldiers and children do have a lot in common. Some guys write their names and dates they were here, others write the classic, "So and so, was here", others write the name of their unit and their mottos, still others write dirty jokes, some are REALLY ambitious and they crawl up the side of the tent to about 20 feet up in the air and write their name and unit in VW bug sized letters. Then there was this guy...or girl. I don't know. Who wrote a little poem that caught my eye. It went like this...
WE ARE THE WILLING.
LED BY THE BLIND.
TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE.
FOR THE UNGRATEFUL.
Now I don't know if they made it up, or they heard it somewhere, but it doesn't change the fact that that little verse is some powerful shit packed into four sentences.
WE ARE THE WILLING.
Every mother fucker here. For one reason or another. For patriotism, for a job, for their family, for their friends, for their country, for the mommy, for you, hell even for me too. We joined the military.
Volunteered years of our young lives, volunteered our bodies, our souls, our minds, hell our very lives for that flag. For the ideals that built the greatest nation the world has ever seen, for the freedoms that make life worth living and for the freedoms that are worth dying for.
LED BY THE BLIND.
This is self explanatory. Officers today, by in large are douche bags. Hopefully, when I get home I can put a stop to at least a little bit of that for a few soldiers. But I can't help but wonder with all the trouble that I get into as an enlisted man, what kind of trouble will I get into as an officer. I don't really know, but it will be fun finding out.
TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE.
Another one that isn't real hard to figure out. We are asked on a daily basis to do with 100 soldiers something that should be done by 1000. We are asked to push our bodies beyond the capacity of human endurance. We are forced to mentally process things that would make your average American certifiably insane...and on and on.
FOR THE UNGRATEFUL.
This one was actually physically painful for me to read. I wonder who the author was talking about. I hope that they were talking about the people of the countries that we try and help. I hope they were talking about all of those who would fight against us regardless of how honorable our intentions are. I hope they were talking about anyone, really, other than who I think they were talking about. I can't help but think they are talking about those who would care more about Michelle Obama's outfit than soldiers in a foreign land. I can't help but think they are talking about those who use the power granted them by the people of our great land, to line their own pockets. I can't help but thinking that they were talking about those who live between the shining seas...
I really do hope that I am dead wrong.
Anyways, I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
Jan 29, 2009
Jan 28, 2009
Ladies & Gentlemen, We Now Return To Your Regularly Scheduled Program...
So I am writing this from the computer lab in Qatar the day before I am scheduled to leave this wonderful place to return, ever so eagerly to the "suck"
I figured I would write this one today while I know that I have the time and the access to the internet. I don't really know when I am going to have these opportunities again.
So these last few days have been surreal to say the least. I had successfully suppressed the memory of all things that I missed about home. Then I came here and they all came running right back to me and started wriggling around on my face.
Certain things that everyone back home really takes for granted are amongst the things that will become the most important things in the world to you. I mean I haven't had to put on boots, or shoes to go to the bathroom in over a week. I have actually skipped meals because I was still stuffed from the last trip to the table. I have not had to wipe the inch and half of dust that usually settles on everything I own. I have not had to carry a weapon with me wherever I go. I am decidedly uninspired today because I know this little diatribe should be a lot funnier than it actually is...
Moving on, it just makes me wonder. I have been watching a bit of TV here and there and trying to catch up with what is going on back home. Unfortunately for me, not a damn thing has changed. Blago got indicted. Which is like an early Christmas present for every citizen of Illinois. Fuck that guy.
-Man admits stealing $400,000 from former nun.
-3-month old boy found dead in filthy apartment.
-Shelter owner sold cat food for drugs.
-Area home prices dip 12.5%, in November, national decline sets record.
Just a few of the tag-lines that I read on the Chicago Sun-Times website. Seems ridiculously similar to all the shit that was going on when I left. Then it really made me laugh that as you look around the site there are about 3 pictures of Obama on the front page, and another couple of Oprah, and then an article about how watermelon can't replace viagra or some shit.
3rd largest city in America folks, and this is the best they can do. Check that, this is what the American public wants to know about. Give us the bad news, but sugar coat it with Oprah and her mountain of bullshit, and articles about how to improve our sex lives, make our dick's bigger, and then tell us what movie to see this weekend. Well if this is the best that we can do folks, I don't want anything to do with it.
I am still looking at this page and I have yet to find something about the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. Oh wait, here it is..."U.S. 'lost' in Afghanistan" (Pause while I read this one) Now I am going to get to this one, but first let me say this am I the only one who reads the Sun-Times who finds it contemptible that the entertainment, and lifestyles sections are above the Business section? Which one is more important?
Moving on, you can read the article that I am about to blabber about HERE.
So Mr. Gates believes that we will lose Afghanistan if we don't limit civilian casualties. Thank you for that very astute observation sir. I agree with you completely.
This is one of the most annoying things about the leadership of the military, both the brass and the civilian overseers in Washington. They tell you to do something, and they give you absolutely no idea as to how to accomplish the goal they set for you. Now I don't want the bureaucrats in Washington to tell us everything to do step by step. Nor do I want that from the brass. But what the hell are they thinking? That we are going out of our way to kill civilians?
Here is the thing, just like in Vietnam, the fucking Taliban look just like the civilians. Nobody wears uniforms, they pop up out of no where, hit you, and then melt right back in with the population.
So how do you defeat an enemy that hides amongst the population? You take away their hiding place. Turn the civilians against them. I can tell you with a certain amount of certainty that the people of Afghanistan hate the Taliban with a passion, trouble is they hate us more.
How do you turn the civilians against them? Refer to the two posts, they will tell you what I think of that. ONE TWO
Now they are considering doubling our troop presence here. Well thank you very much, Mr. Gates and Mr. Obama. Now where is everyone else? Even if they double our presence here, we don't even have half the guys here that they had in Iraq!
Well let's see if we can control the border with that shit. We couldn't control from Terewa to the Khyber Pass with that. It's bullshit, we could flood Iraq with soldiers, but not Afghanistan? Last time I checked, Afghanistan was the one where we knew we were in the right.
They go on and on...fucking retards that have never set foot in Afghanistan, I am not sure that any of these guys has ever left Washington.
But that's it for today folks, my brain is fried trying to think about this stuff. It never ceases to amaze me that a war can be going on where American's are dying every day and the newspapers are actually worried about what the fuck Michelle Obama is wearing. Well, that was your news break and now we return to your regularly scheduled program...
Later,
I love you mom...
I figured I would write this one today while I know that I have the time and the access to the internet. I don't really know when I am going to have these opportunities again.
So these last few days have been surreal to say the least. I had successfully suppressed the memory of all things that I missed about home. Then I came here and they all came running right back to me and started wriggling around on my face.
Certain things that everyone back home really takes for granted are amongst the things that will become the most important things in the world to you. I mean I haven't had to put on boots, or shoes to go to the bathroom in over a week. I have actually skipped meals because I was still stuffed from the last trip to the table. I have not had to wipe the inch and half of dust that usually settles on everything I own. I have not had to carry a weapon with me wherever I go. I am decidedly uninspired today because I know this little diatribe should be a lot funnier than it actually is...
Moving on, it just makes me wonder. I have been watching a bit of TV here and there and trying to catch up with what is going on back home. Unfortunately for me, not a damn thing has changed. Blago got indicted. Which is like an early Christmas present for every citizen of Illinois. Fuck that guy.
-Man admits stealing $400,000 from former nun.
-3-month old boy found dead in filthy apartment.
-Shelter owner sold cat food for drugs.
-Area home prices dip 12.5%, in November, national decline sets record.
Just a few of the tag-lines that I read on the Chicago Sun-Times website. Seems ridiculously similar to all the shit that was going on when I left. Then it really made me laugh that as you look around the site there are about 3 pictures of Obama on the front page, and another couple of Oprah, and then an article about how watermelon can't replace viagra or some shit.
3rd largest city in America folks, and this is the best they can do. Check that, this is what the American public wants to know about. Give us the bad news, but sugar coat it with Oprah and her mountain of bullshit, and articles about how to improve our sex lives, make our dick's bigger, and then tell us what movie to see this weekend. Well if this is the best that we can do folks, I don't want anything to do with it.
I am still looking at this page and I have yet to find something about the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. Oh wait, here it is..."U.S. 'lost' in Afghanistan" (Pause while I read this one) Now I am going to get to this one, but first let me say this am I the only one who reads the Sun-Times who finds it contemptible that the entertainment, and lifestyles sections are above the Business section? Which one is more important?
Moving on, you can read the article that I am about to blabber about HERE.
So Mr. Gates believes that we will lose Afghanistan if we don't limit civilian casualties. Thank you for that very astute observation sir. I agree with you completely.
This is one of the most annoying things about the leadership of the military, both the brass and the civilian overseers in Washington. They tell you to do something, and they give you absolutely no idea as to how to accomplish the goal they set for you. Now I don't want the bureaucrats in Washington to tell us everything to do step by step. Nor do I want that from the brass. But what the hell are they thinking? That we are going out of our way to kill civilians?
Here is the thing, just like in Vietnam, the fucking Taliban look just like the civilians. Nobody wears uniforms, they pop up out of no where, hit you, and then melt right back in with the population.
So how do you defeat an enemy that hides amongst the population? You take away their hiding place. Turn the civilians against them. I can tell you with a certain amount of certainty that the people of Afghanistan hate the Taliban with a passion, trouble is they hate us more.
How do you turn the civilians against them? Refer to the two posts, they will tell you what I think of that. ONE TWO
Now they are considering doubling our troop presence here. Well thank you very much, Mr. Gates and Mr. Obama. Now where is everyone else? Even if they double our presence here, we don't even have half the guys here that they had in Iraq!
Well let's see if we can control the border with that shit. We couldn't control from Terewa to the Khyber Pass with that. It's bullshit, we could flood Iraq with soldiers, but not Afghanistan? Last time I checked, Afghanistan was the one where we knew we were in the right.
They go on and on...fucking retards that have never set foot in Afghanistan, I am not sure that any of these guys has ever left Washington.
But that's it for today folks, my brain is fried trying to think about this stuff. It never ceases to amaze me that a war can be going on where American's are dying every day and the newspapers are actually worried about what the fuck Michelle Obama is wearing. Well, that was your news break and now we return to your regularly scheduled program...
Later,
I love you mom...
Jan 26, 2009
Well Today Has Been Very, Very...GAY!!!
So come with me, if you will, on a little journey. A journey of sight, and sound. A journey where one soldier comes to grips with his sexuality, and calls into question all that he has ever believed about spa's and chick stuff. Yes, my day has been very, very gay...
Today started out ordinarily enough. I woke up 10 minutes before I was supposed to be at the USO to catch the bus to some shopping trip that I signed up for yesterday. However, since I was up until 3 in morning last night playing around on the internet for no good reason I was in no mood to get out of bed and go. So I went back to sleep for another 2 hours. No problem. This place isn't like the regular Army where if you miss anything they send a hunting party out to find you. If you aren't there they just go to the next guy on the list.
Then I actually hauled my ass out of bed at 1000 hrs. Enough sleep for me, gotta get moving and enjoy my second day of R&R. So I needed some clean clothes so I made a pit stop at the laundry and threw in a load, I then jumped into the shower and washed my ass, twice! Still got AssCrackIstan on me, trying desperately (probably in vain) to get that stink off of me.
Then I went and found Duby. We had a few errands to run. Dropping off clothes at the dry cleaners and stopping by the post office to mail some drug paraphernalia home. So we got that done about 1300-ish, and decided that it was time for some much needed sustenance. At first we figured we would take the bus over to the chow hall, but then it dawned on us that lunch is only served until 1300 and we probably wouldn't make it in time. So we racked our brains a little bit. Pizza, no. Burger King, nah. Popeye's Chicken, Nope. Subway, close but no cigar. Ah, I've got it let's go the Chile's! That's right they have a Chile's here in Qatar. Just like the ones back home. Except for the non-alcoholic pina coladas and margaritas. Which to me is like reaching back with your pimp hand and slapping God in the face. Not good people, not good at all.
Now, I am a big boy and when properly motivated I can put down Chile's food like a 130 pound Chinaman in a hot dog eating contest. And so I did. Here is a breakdown of what I had this afternoon.
1. Triple Play appetizer. Southwest egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, and hot wings. Oh my.
2. Side salad with ranch dressing.
3. 12 ounce rib eye steak with french fries and broccoli with melted cheese.
4. Molten Chocolate Cake.
5. 4 Coke's and a glass of milk with the chocolate cake.
In the immortal words of Pigpen, "Holy Jumping Jesus On A Pogo Stick" It has been a long time since I was that full, and that satisfied all at the same time. I probably looked like I had a perpetual orgasm going for about 45 minutes after I got out of there. Needless to say, I have been eating rather copious amounts of plated shit since I have gotten here. To actually sit down and have a nice, civilized meal with REAL food was about as close to sex as I am going to get over here. If only you could...uh uh, moving on.
And then the day took a decided turn towards the gayer side of life. Now before I tell you what happened let me say this.
Until you have strapped on a weapon in defense of your nation, and lived in the mountains of some third world hell hole, and burned your own shit, not washed with anything but baby wipes for any length of time, or dug dust out of the most ungodly orifices in your body, or any of the wonderful list of perks that come with being deployed, then don't judge me. Because I would be more than happy to whip your ass and show you just how gay I really am. (I know, it didn't sound right did it.)
That being said, here is what happened.
I had an hour long massage scheduled for 1900 tonight. Duby decided that he wanted to see what other services they offered at the spa and possibly partake. So I figured, "What the hell". We get over there and it turns out that they have the whole kit and caboodle. Massage, facial, manicure and pedicure. Fun for me.
Duby decides he is going to get it all, so I dutifully followed suit. Now I have never had any of this, save the massage, done before. I mean c'mon I have been to Korea. Who hasn't gotten a massage there. Any male who says he hasn't is lying.
Moving on, so I lay down on the table for my massage and the girl comes in a does her thing. And I fall asleep. Apparently it was a much better massage than I had initially expected.
Shortly thereafter I was awakened by the most searing pain I have felt in a long while. She had begun the facial portion of my spa treatment and was digging into my face with what felt like the devil's thumbnail. She was scraping in the nook between my nose and my cheek, on top of my nose, on my chin, on my cheeks, on my upper lip, and on my forehead.
Scraping everywhere trying to dig down into my face until she found my damn brain. And as evidenced by the caliber of my writing it was going to take her awhile. I mean I am a pretty tough guy, but I'll admit it I teared up a bit. Then she showed me a kleenex peppered with little blackheads and bits of dirt and shit. Apparently, this is what she had just finished digging out of my face. Wow, it's called soap dickhead!
So far this experience rates as yellow on the gayness mood ring. Now it was time to bump it up to red.
I went back out to the front and sat down in a chair and waited for the gayness to commence. And commence it did. The girl came out and had me take my shoes and socks off and put my feet in a scorching hot bubble bath with some little nipples or some shit on the bottom of the tub that felt absolutely fabulous on the bottoms of my feet. Then while she let my dogs soak, she went to work on my fingernails. She put some pink shit on there that she said was nail strengthener or some shit, then she clipped them down to where they should be. After that she scrapped the top of them with something that looked like a miniature scalpel and then dug around in my cuticles with a pair of baby scissors and repeated this process until my fingernails were about as pretty as they have ever been.
Now it was on to my feet. And ladies and gents, let me tell you something about GI feet. They are easily the most disgustingly rancid thing that God has ever put on this earth. You lace up a pair of boots everyday for a decade or so and let's see how your feet look.
So she gets down to it, scrubbing the bottoms with a belt sander and getting all the dead skin off. Rubbing my feet down with a combination of cocoa butter and lava soap. Then getting to work on my toe nails and doing the same shit that she did to the fingers to the toes. I was like, "Holy O' Shit man, my toes are pretty too!"
Well then, I have only one thing to say about this. To every girl I ever gave any shit about all the stuff that you guys do to make yourselves feel pretty. "I TAKE IT ALL BACK"
I see why you guys like to get pampered. Now I'll really piss y'all off. I don't know how much this shit costs in the states, but here the whole thing cost me $48.00.
Anyways, now it is off to get my 3 authorized beers for today. Stay tuned though, I've got some incredibly insightful questions over the past few days, and I am going to answer them sooner or later.
Later,
I love you mom...
Today started out ordinarily enough. I woke up 10 minutes before I was supposed to be at the USO to catch the bus to some shopping trip that I signed up for yesterday. However, since I was up until 3 in morning last night playing around on the internet for no good reason I was in no mood to get out of bed and go. So I went back to sleep for another 2 hours. No problem. This place isn't like the regular Army where if you miss anything they send a hunting party out to find you. If you aren't there they just go to the next guy on the list.
Then I actually hauled my ass out of bed at 1000 hrs. Enough sleep for me, gotta get moving and enjoy my second day of R&R. So I needed some clean clothes so I made a pit stop at the laundry and threw in a load, I then jumped into the shower and washed my ass, twice! Still got AssCrackIstan on me, trying desperately (probably in vain) to get that stink off of me.
Then I went and found Duby. We had a few errands to run. Dropping off clothes at the dry cleaners and stopping by the post office to mail some drug paraphernalia home. So we got that done about 1300-ish, and decided that it was time for some much needed sustenance. At first we figured we would take the bus over to the chow hall, but then it dawned on us that lunch is only served until 1300 and we probably wouldn't make it in time. So we racked our brains a little bit. Pizza, no. Burger King, nah. Popeye's Chicken, Nope. Subway, close but no cigar. Ah, I've got it let's go the Chile's! That's right they have a Chile's here in Qatar. Just like the ones back home. Except for the non-alcoholic pina coladas and margaritas. Which to me is like reaching back with your pimp hand and slapping God in the face. Not good people, not good at all.
Now, I am a big boy and when properly motivated I can put down Chile's food like a 130 pound Chinaman in a hot dog eating contest. And so I did. Here is a breakdown of what I had this afternoon.
1. Triple Play appetizer. Southwest egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, and hot wings. Oh my.
2. Side salad with ranch dressing.
3. 12 ounce rib eye steak with french fries and broccoli with melted cheese.
4. Molten Chocolate Cake.
5. 4 Coke's and a glass of milk with the chocolate cake.
In the immortal words of Pigpen, "Holy Jumping Jesus On A Pogo Stick" It has been a long time since I was that full, and that satisfied all at the same time. I probably looked like I had a perpetual orgasm going for about 45 minutes after I got out of there. Needless to say, I have been eating rather copious amounts of plated shit since I have gotten here. To actually sit down and have a nice, civilized meal with REAL food was about as close to sex as I am going to get over here. If only you could...uh uh, moving on.
And then the day took a decided turn towards the gayer side of life. Now before I tell you what happened let me say this.
Until you have strapped on a weapon in defense of your nation, and lived in the mountains of some third world hell hole, and burned your own shit, not washed with anything but baby wipes for any length of time, or dug dust out of the most ungodly orifices in your body, or any of the wonderful list of perks that come with being deployed, then don't judge me. Because I would be more than happy to whip your ass and show you just how gay I really am. (I know, it didn't sound right did it.)
That being said, here is what happened.
I had an hour long massage scheduled for 1900 tonight. Duby decided that he wanted to see what other services they offered at the spa and possibly partake. So I figured, "What the hell". We get over there and it turns out that they have the whole kit and caboodle. Massage, facial, manicure and pedicure. Fun for me.
Duby decides he is going to get it all, so I dutifully followed suit. Now I have never had any of this, save the massage, done before. I mean c'mon I have been to Korea. Who hasn't gotten a massage there. Any male who says he hasn't is lying.
Moving on, so I lay down on the table for my massage and the girl comes in a does her thing. And I fall asleep. Apparently it was a much better massage than I had initially expected.
Shortly thereafter I was awakened by the most searing pain I have felt in a long while. She had begun the facial portion of my spa treatment and was digging into my face with what felt like the devil's thumbnail. She was scraping in the nook between my nose and my cheek, on top of my nose, on my chin, on my cheeks, on my upper lip, and on my forehead.
Scraping everywhere trying to dig down into my face until she found my damn brain. And as evidenced by the caliber of my writing it was going to take her awhile. I mean I am a pretty tough guy, but I'll admit it I teared up a bit. Then she showed me a kleenex peppered with little blackheads and bits of dirt and shit. Apparently, this is what she had just finished digging out of my face. Wow, it's called soap dickhead!
So far this experience rates as yellow on the gayness mood ring. Now it was time to bump it up to red.
I went back out to the front and sat down in a chair and waited for the gayness to commence. And commence it did. The girl came out and had me take my shoes and socks off and put my feet in a scorching hot bubble bath with some little nipples or some shit on the bottom of the tub that felt absolutely fabulous on the bottoms of my feet. Then while she let my dogs soak, she went to work on my fingernails. She put some pink shit on there that she said was nail strengthener or some shit, then she clipped them down to where they should be. After that she scrapped the top of them with something that looked like a miniature scalpel and then dug around in my cuticles with a pair of baby scissors and repeated this process until my fingernails were about as pretty as they have ever been.
Now it was on to my feet. And ladies and gents, let me tell you something about GI feet. They are easily the most disgustingly rancid thing that God has ever put on this earth. You lace up a pair of boots everyday for a decade or so and let's see how your feet look.
So she gets down to it, scrubbing the bottoms with a belt sander and getting all the dead skin off. Rubbing my feet down with a combination of cocoa butter and lava soap. Then getting to work on my toe nails and doing the same shit that she did to the fingers to the toes. I was like, "Holy O' Shit man, my toes are pretty too!"
Well then, I have only one thing to say about this. To every girl I ever gave any shit about all the stuff that you guys do to make yourselves feel pretty. "I TAKE IT ALL BACK"
I see why you guys like to get pampered. Now I'll really piss y'all off. I don't know how much this shit costs in the states, but here the whole thing cost me $48.00.
Anyways, now it is off to get my 3 authorized beers for today. Stay tuned though, I've got some incredibly insightful questions over the past few days, and I am going to answer them sooner or later.
Later,
I love you mom...
Jan 25, 2009
Smoking A Hookah, Riding A Camel, and 3 Beers A Day...
Ladies & Gentlemen, this is a camel...
And I rode it.
This is me smoking a hookah sitting on the beach in Qatar. That's the Persian Gulf right behind me. Off to the right is Saudi Arabia. If only there was something worth smoking in there!
This is my buddy, Duby, that's right he is smoking a hookah and his name is Duby. How beautiful is that?
And finally this is the hookah....
The picture doesn't do it justice It was like 3 feet tall.
So that was my day. I rode a camel, I smoked a hookah on the beach, and now I am sitting here writing to all of you right before I go and have my authorized 3 beers for the day. Fun for me.
If you ever get out to Qatar, I recommend the grape flavored smoke it was wonderful.
Anyways, moving on. Well I have come to several realizations while I have been here. What are they?
Well allow me to enlighten you.
1. Indoor plumbing is the most wonderful thing that anyone, anywhere, has ever invented.
2. Award winning chow halls are not a good place for a fat guy to go.
3. Combat zone habits make you look like an absolute retard if you are not in a combat zone.
The first two are self-explanatory. The third one may require some clarification. Then again, maybe it doesn't but I am going to do it anyways.
So on the way out to the beach today we were riding in a few trucks that the Army chartered to take us out there. The driver was a Palestinian guy named Hassam or something like that. Really cool guy, but a lunatic behind the wheel.
So we get out to the dunes that cover the distance between the Qatari highway and the beach, and he guns it. Runs us up and down all these sand dunes and around all these oasis's and around all these palm trees and shit, he even stopped to show us a plant. I forget the name but here's a picture of it. Apparently it only grows in the winter and then the camels come by and eat it. This was the extent of our sight-seeing today.
Anyways, back to us flying across the desert. Every time we drove past anything that didn't belong in the desert. I mean a bag of trash, a random bottle of water, a bush that looked like it had been messed with. Anything that was even remotely out of the ordinary. I felt myself tensing up as we drove by it. Waiting for the impending IED blast.
I guess it was noticeable so Hassam started to make fun of me. As it turns out he says that a lot of the GI's that come here do the same shit. So he has fun with us by driving right by all that stuff. Ah, Hassam, a guy after my own heart. I would do the same thing. Any chance you get to fuck with people's heads you take it. Am I wrong.
Then later on that day I was walking through the PX with Duby and another guy from his unit and we came up to some barrier and had to walk around it. Without even realizing what he was doing, he took out an imaginary rifle and pied the corner (will take too long to explain) and cleared behind the barrier before he let us continue on. Well at least I am not that bad yet, but the letter is in the mail. You know what I mean?
So anyways, that is my observations for today and I want my beer and I have to call the mom so...
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
And I rode it.
This is me smoking a hookah sitting on the beach in Qatar. That's the Persian Gulf right behind me. Off to the right is Saudi Arabia. If only there was something worth smoking in there!
This is my buddy, Duby, that's right he is smoking a hookah and his name is Duby. How beautiful is that?
And finally this is the hookah....
The picture doesn't do it justice It was like 3 feet tall.
So that was my day. I rode a camel, I smoked a hookah on the beach, and now I am sitting here writing to all of you right before I go and have my authorized 3 beers for the day. Fun for me.
If you ever get out to Qatar, I recommend the grape flavored smoke it was wonderful.
Anyways, moving on. Well I have come to several realizations while I have been here. What are they?
Well allow me to enlighten you.
1. Indoor plumbing is the most wonderful thing that anyone, anywhere, has ever invented.
2. Award winning chow halls are not a good place for a fat guy to go.
3. Combat zone habits make you look like an absolute retard if you are not in a combat zone.
The first two are self-explanatory. The third one may require some clarification. Then again, maybe it doesn't but I am going to do it anyways.
So on the way out to the beach today we were riding in a few trucks that the Army chartered to take us out there. The driver was a Palestinian guy named Hassam or something like that. Really cool guy, but a lunatic behind the wheel.
So we get out to the dunes that cover the distance between the Qatari highway and the beach, and he guns it. Runs us up and down all these sand dunes and around all these oasis's and around all these palm trees and shit, he even stopped to show us a plant. I forget the name but here's a picture of it. Apparently it only grows in the winter and then the camels come by and eat it. This was the extent of our sight-seeing today.
Anyways, back to us flying across the desert. Every time we drove past anything that didn't belong in the desert. I mean a bag of trash, a random bottle of water, a bush that looked like it had been messed with. Anything that was even remotely out of the ordinary. I felt myself tensing up as we drove by it. Waiting for the impending IED blast.
I guess it was noticeable so Hassam started to make fun of me. As it turns out he says that a lot of the GI's that come here do the same shit. So he has fun with us by driving right by all that stuff. Ah, Hassam, a guy after my own heart. I would do the same thing. Any chance you get to fuck with people's heads you take it. Am I wrong.
Then later on that day I was walking through the PX with Duby and another guy from his unit and we came up to some barrier and had to walk around it. Without even realizing what he was doing, he took out an imaginary rifle and pied the corner (will take too long to explain) and cleared behind the barrier before he let us continue on. Well at least I am not that bad yet, but the letter is in the mail. You know what I mean?
So anyways, that is my observations for today and I want my beer and I have to call the mom so...
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
Jan 24, 2009
America, Why I Love You, And Will Fight To The Very End For You...
Now for those of you who read me regularly you know that I am a bit crass, a bit unorthodox, and certainly I could give a shit less about propriety so the following is just a little photographic rundown of why I love the United States of America and am willing to dedicate my life to her defense...HERE YOU GO...
First and foremost my beloved Chicago White Sox, World Series Champions in 2005. And...Fuck the Cubs.
Next up is the football team that taught me what being a badass was all about...
And a gratuitous thong picture. Fun for all...
I love babies, and I love beer...especially Rolling Rock.
Just the fact that I am a soldier in a combat zone and I can post stuff like this is a testament to what a great country I am priviledged to defend.
A picture is worth a thousand words...
That's right Bitches...
And finally...
When I was leaving Bagram the other day there was a sign on the wall that simply read...
"Live a life worthy of their sacrifice."
I love you mom...
First and foremost my beloved Chicago White Sox, World Series Champions in 2005. And...Fuck the Cubs.
Next up is the football team that taught me what being a badass was all about...
And a gratuitous thong picture. Fun for all...
I love babies, and I love beer...especially Rolling Rock.
Just the fact that I am a soldier in a combat zone and I can post stuff like this is a testament to what a great country I am priviledged to defend.
A picture is worth a thousand words...
That's right Bitches...
And finally...
When I was leaving Bagram the other day there was a sign on the wall that simply read...
"Live a life worthy of their sacrifice."
I love you mom...
Jan 23, 2009
Here I Sit Broken Hearted, Came To...
Shit but only farted...and so goes the traditional poem scrawled upon the walls of port-a-john's the world over. It was what I was reading this afternoon when the funniest event of this little jaunt to Qatar happened.
Now everyone knows that Bagram airfield has entirely too many people and the commanders here obviously have entirely too much time on their hands during which they sit around their mahogany conference tables and come up with new and interesting rules for those under their command to follow. Fun for me.
Well in this case, the rule in question is the designation of certain sets of shitters for use only by designated personnel. I never knew that the port-a-potties could be designated for just one group of people. But they do that here and apparently the ones that I decided to do my business in this afternoon were reserved specifically for the Air Force personnel that lived in the barracks directly behind them. Unfortunately for me, the shitters in question are also located just outside of the chow hall where I have been eating for the past several days.
So I sat down to enjoy my afternoon movement. I finished up, and came out of the john to be staring face to face, err more of a his face to my chest kind of thing, with a Bagram MP. I didn't really understand what the hell this guy was doing, I would never stand that close to another person who had just come out of the john and clearly had not washed their hands yet, but hey, whatever works for him.
So he says to me (and I swear I cannot make this shit up), "What were you doing in there?"
To which I responded, with no small amount of sarcasm, "I was solving the world hunger crisis!, what the hell do you think I was doing in there?"
Now I have pissed little napoleon off, and he shoots back angrily, "Do you know that these facilities are designated for the Air Force personnel in this barracks only!"
"Really, well where am I supposed to shit?"
"In the facilities located at your billets!"
"Well, I wasn't at my billets, I was here so I am going to shit here!"
Now let me say that I have an Army MP patch on my arm, this guy is an Army MP as well, and I have already pegged him as one of those, "I got my ass beat in high school so I am going to become a cop so that everyone will have to respect me" type of guys. And I am needlessly fucking with him just because I can. Regrettably, this is just what I do.
Anyways, so now he says, "Do you understand that I could cite you for unauthorized use of off limits facilities."
Now in my mind I am thinking, "Oh please, please Dear Lord please have this chump write me a ticket for using off limits shitters"
But unfortunately I am getting older and a little more controlled and I realize that if my chain of command were informed that I got cited for anything at all, the shit storm would be legendary. But there is another part of me that thinks it might be worth the trouble. However, cooler heads prevailed and I decided to make nice with the guy.
I gave him a little song and dance about how I wasn't from up here and I didn't know all the rules and la di da di da. And luckily for me he bought it.
So I thanked him for setting me straight and I wished him well as he left. But the funniest thing he said didn't come until he was getting in his truck to leave.
He said, and I quote, "Make sure you watch yourself, there are a lot of MP's around here who have too much time on their hands and they like to cite people from other units for bullshit!"
"Thanks for the advice, pal!" As soon as he left I was doubled over laughing. I almost got a ticket for unauthorized deposit of fecal waste! Only in the Army could something like this actually happen. Not only that, but the MP who did it actually went so far as to describe himself when he was leaving. Not to mention has it dawned on anyone that this guy had to have watched me go into the shitter and then said to himself, "Hey he is in an Army uniform, those are Air Force facilities. I think I'll set this guy straight." Then he had to pull over and stand directly outside the facility that I was using and wait as I grunted and groaned my way through the burritos and enchiladas that were served the night before. Then he had to prepare his little talk for when I exited. Holy shit, this fucking guy thought this through.
Then he had to do it. How bored do you have to be to actually notice when someone is going in the shitter? Either that or one of the pricks from the Air Force ratted on me, in which case that opens a whole other ball of hilarity. But for right now lets go with the "he was watching me" option.
Anyways, that was my funny story for today. I am sitting here waiting for the flight from here to Qatar. Which is supposedly at 0300 tonight. Which is another funny thing because if you think O'Hare is bad I had to check in for this flight at fucking 0830 this morning. A full 18 and one half hours ahead of time. But I digress.
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
Now everyone knows that Bagram airfield has entirely too many people and the commanders here obviously have entirely too much time on their hands during which they sit around their mahogany conference tables and come up with new and interesting rules for those under their command to follow. Fun for me.
Well in this case, the rule in question is the designation of certain sets of shitters for use only by designated personnel. I never knew that the port-a-potties could be designated for just one group of people. But they do that here and apparently the ones that I decided to do my business in this afternoon were reserved specifically for the Air Force personnel that lived in the barracks directly behind them. Unfortunately for me, the shitters in question are also located just outside of the chow hall where I have been eating for the past several days.
So I sat down to enjoy my afternoon movement. I finished up, and came out of the john to be staring face to face, err more of a his face to my chest kind of thing, with a Bagram MP. I didn't really understand what the hell this guy was doing, I would never stand that close to another person who had just come out of the john and clearly had not washed their hands yet, but hey, whatever works for him.
So he says to me (and I swear I cannot make this shit up), "What were you doing in there?"
To which I responded, with no small amount of sarcasm, "I was solving the world hunger crisis!, what the hell do you think I was doing in there?"
Now I have pissed little napoleon off, and he shoots back angrily, "Do you know that these facilities are designated for the Air Force personnel in this barracks only!"
"Really, well where am I supposed to shit?"
"In the facilities located at your billets!"
"Well, I wasn't at my billets, I was here so I am going to shit here!"
Now let me say that I have an Army MP patch on my arm, this guy is an Army MP as well, and I have already pegged him as one of those, "I got my ass beat in high school so I am going to become a cop so that everyone will have to respect me" type of guys. And I am needlessly fucking with him just because I can. Regrettably, this is just what I do.
Anyways, so now he says, "Do you understand that I could cite you for unauthorized use of off limits facilities."
Now in my mind I am thinking, "Oh please, please Dear Lord please have this chump write me a ticket for using off limits shitters"
But unfortunately I am getting older and a little more controlled and I realize that if my chain of command were informed that I got cited for anything at all, the shit storm would be legendary. But there is another part of me that thinks it might be worth the trouble. However, cooler heads prevailed and I decided to make nice with the guy.
I gave him a little song and dance about how I wasn't from up here and I didn't know all the rules and la di da di da. And luckily for me he bought it.
So I thanked him for setting me straight and I wished him well as he left. But the funniest thing he said didn't come until he was getting in his truck to leave.
He said, and I quote, "Make sure you watch yourself, there are a lot of MP's around here who have too much time on their hands and they like to cite people from other units for bullshit!"
"Thanks for the advice, pal!" As soon as he left I was doubled over laughing. I almost got a ticket for unauthorized deposit of fecal waste! Only in the Army could something like this actually happen. Not only that, but the MP who did it actually went so far as to describe himself when he was leaving. Not to mention has it dawned on anyone that this guy had to have watched me go into the shitter and then said to himself, "Hey he is in an Army uniform, those are Air Force facilities. I think I'll set this guy straight." Then he had to pull over and stand directly outside the facility that I was using and wait as I grunted and groaned my way through the burritos and enchiladas that were served the night before. Then he had to prepare his little talk for when I exited. Holy shit, this fucking guy thought this through.
Then he had to do it. How bored do you have to be to actually notice when someone is going in the shitter? Either that or one of the pricks from the Air Force ratted on me, in which case that opens a whole other ball of hilarity. But for right now lets go with the "he was watching me" option.
Anyways, that was my funny story for today. I am sitting here waiting for the flight from here to Qatar. Which is supposedly at 0300 tonight. Which is another funny thing because if you think O'Hare is bad I had to check in for this flight at fucking 0830 this morning. A full 18 and one half hours ahead of time. But I digress.
I am done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
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