you can get the body you’ve always dreamed of with a bowflex home gym

4 02 2009

Warning: drunk (thoughts may be random and way off target/stupid). (if thoughts at all)

On second thought…. WARNING: Do Not Read This! (ah, more sense)

Wow, this is the first time I have blogged drunk, welcome to America and thank the lord for spell check.  I just watched a bowflex commercial, didn’t miss those. Guess what, if I had a bowflex in my room, I still wouldn’t work out everyday. I would just drink wine and look at it, wondering why I spent my cash on it. Chuck Norris has a bowflex, I bet it’s packed away in his garage. Fuck chuck norris, and fuck his chin fist. Walker Texas ranger is pretty cool though, I used to watch that show. I wish I was a ranger, I could protect the texas ranger museum and the dr. pepper museum, both in Waco. Waco is for not cool people.

I immediately regret every minute Captain Morgan and I spent together tonight.He is my mortal enemy and my best friend all at the same time. At least my face feels warm. Guess what Captain Morgan, I found a new friend, his name is Sailor Jerry. So once I’m done with you I’m off to the sailor. (this is my official plug for Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum)

Nothing is what it seemed it would be. Everyone hyped up all the little things while we were in Iraq. Now, well….now it just sucks. I never thought i would say this, but i think life was too simple in Iraq. I mean, having a schedule that involved just sleep and work couldn’t be more desirable, unless loved ones were with us, but then again it is Iraq. fuck it. i want to have an easy schedule again, only this time in arizona, and with the one i love, and less stressful and/or demanding. can i have that? please? just email me when you can arrange that for me. please!

i would like to say that i am officially blacking out. i hear a train. fuck trains, they delay traffic and make noise. fuck traffic, it delays me and annoys me. i have a question, how can a small town, like killeen, have worse traffic than any major metropolitan city.

the movie Armageddon was sad. We should hope we never encounter an asteroid that will destroy the human race.

“If you don’t go with Christ, you could end up like that splattered bitch down on the pavement.” -South Park (my IQ has to be less than 5).

If grammar is your forte, then i apologize. It’s mine too, but not when El Capitan is around.

I want to be in a car commercial.

Ikea has really nice home furnishings. I am overly satisfied with their products. Their curtains blow. But the furniture does not blow. Neither do I. No one typing this blog blows. FYI.

I want a fat ass fish in a large ass fish tank to complete my room. Fat ass fish might also be delicious. Ask my GF. She said so, and I agreed.


the a/c unit

14 01 2009

This is my short tale of a magical wall hanging air conditioner;

Walking to use the phone at the MWR yesterday, I pulled out my ID card to show to the guard. After his greeting, and my pleasant reply, I walked off toward the building. There is a guard shack in between where I was and the building. I begin to walk around it, glancing up quickly to check the area, and put my head back down to focus on putting my ID back in my pocket. As I looked back up, no sooner, WHAM! Face meets air conditioner. I didn’t bump into it, I didn’t slide around it, I walked directly into it. Face first, full speed, no reaction. Boy did I feel dumb, so dumb in fact, I decided to share.

This isn’t my first a/c unit run in out here either, oh no, don’t be fooled. A few months ago I did the same thing. Only I was running, and my attention was elsewhere. That one hurt a lot worse though, so it’s not as funny!

In closing, God, I appreciate the gesture of miraculously placing air conditioners where they never were before, but please stop putting them in front of me.

what’s that?

11 01 2009

So on the way out of breakfast this morning, i grabbed myself a banana, fully hoping it would somehow make up for the immorally fattening meal I consumed.

I stuck that banana in my pocket.

Halfway back to my room, I realize that I am walking around with a huge bulge in my coat pocket, conveniently hanging right in front of my crotchal region.

So I left it there, and everybody I passed I just imagined them saying:

“Hey, is that a banana in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

True story. Ask Kyle. And Iraq sucks.

10 things better….

9 01 2009

I recently had a horrifying experience in the shower, and it didn’t involve cold water. It involved a most unforgettable sight, so I decided to compile this list…

10 Things That Would Be Better Than Seeing A Naked Man Bending Over When You Step Out Of The Shower!

  1. Eating a box of rusty nails.
  2. Playing Monopoly with Accountants and Realtors.
  3. Swimming in a hotel pool that hasn’t been cleaned in a while.
  4. Grinding my fingernails on a chalkboard for all time.
  5. Cleaning Shamus tank at Sea World.
  6. Having to babysit on prom night.
  7. Being chased by a swarm of killer bees.
  8. Rolling my car over into a pile of horse shit.
  9. Shoveling snow in the north pole.
  10. Any and everything else!

I can’t wait to get out of this country, and have a shower all to myself, with hot water.

11 more days.

the port-a-shitter defined

7 01 2009

Port-a-shitter (n.) – a plastic, partially weather-proofed, horrid smelling box of waste and death. Commonly used for personal matters such as self-imprisonment with ones excrement, it is the most uncomfortable and unreliable method to relieve yourself. Other common uses include writing things on the wall such as: who you want to sleep with, who you hate, who is retarded, who you are and that you were there, and counting down the days to go home. Caution, these latrines are always wet and always unsanitary.

90% of any bodily waste functions will be performed in a port-a-shitter while deployed to a combat zone. This is due to the lack of buildings with working plumbing, and an increased convenience to just place rows and rows of port-a-shitters anywhere the government damn well pleases. These “outhouses” endure the most extreme temperatures, which is one reason soldiers are so apprehensive to use them. Especially on the coldest of nights and the hottest of days.

One of the most annoying aspects of using these “facilities” is the cleaning process. It involves simplest tasks, but leaves irritating results. The steps for cleaning the port-a-shitter, in order, are as follows;

  1. Suck shit – simple enough
  2. Fill toilet with blue water – this stuff is not your friend, stay away
  3. Refill toilet paper dispenser – good work, lets move on…
  4. Spray down entire inside and outside with water – ?????

Lets take a look at step 4 for a second if we can. Why would you do this after putting the toilet paper in? It’s always fucking wet, everything is wet. You go inside, close the door, and water splashes off of it right onto you. Not to mention its cold enough without having water splash on you. This shit is retarded….

So I pose the question, could the daily use of port-a-shitters lead to a case of PTSD? Well….

*PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

you snooze, you lose…

6 01 2009

I cannot wake up on time to save my life. Seriously, if the roof was on fire and people were screaming, i would be looking for the snooze button! What in the hell is wrong with me? I can’t get to sleep on time, and then when I do, I can’t wake back up. I don’t know what kind of sleep disorder that is, but I’m tired of it.

I sleep with two alarm clocks, and it still doesn’t get the job done. It used to be three alarm clocks, but one had to go as it failed to maintain the proper time (it’s one and only sole purpose for creation). I’ve toyed with all kinds of combinations, including setting them both for the same time, setting them at two minute intervals, setting them at five minute intervals, and even ten minutes apart, but nothing works. No matter what happens, or how long I have slept, the snooze button is getting used, and I end up rolling over last minute to find I have about ten minutes to get dressed, shave, brush my teeth and get to the bus… fuck me right!

I would ultimately blame this on my lack of motivation to get out of bed in this shit hole. An ever obvious lack of desire to go into work. I dread the long and lonely walk from the bus to the hangar, in the cold, just thinking to myself how much I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s a daily occurrence, and it happens to more people than just me, but they wake up on time. I need to come up with some ideas for a home made, real intense, high stakes alarm clock….

Here is what I have so far:

  1. I sleep on some sort of conveyor belt, and when the alarm goes off, it sends me barreling towards a giant razor blade chopping at the end of the belt. It’s wake up or die. Plus there’s this whole legal issue if someone else is in your bed with you and they don’t make it out on time.  – Still in development.
  2. A device that drops the air conditioner, which is conveniently placed directly over my head, onto my bed at set times – also still in development stages.
  3. Morning sex – only available at limited times with a limited person. *wink*
  4. Alcohol poisoning – you’ll be throwing up all morning.
  5. Morning sex – my mind is elsewhere…
A glance at the basic conveyor plans.

A glance at the basic conveyor plans.

So, in conclusion, I need help or a new highly motivating purpose. For example, flying, that would get me out of bed.

I have, while in the process of creating this, diagnosed myself via Wikipedia. That site makes me a genius. Here’s the verdict:

  • Narcolepsy: Excessive daytime sleepiness, often culminating in falling asleep spontaneously and unwillingly at inappropriate times. – this only occurs when I haven’t gotten enough sleep!

Anyway, I snooze and lose daily. At least I don’t totally sleep through my alarm by about 40 minutes on a daily basis, arrive late to work and miss meetings, that would suck!

i’m rich, bitch!

6 01 2009

As of lately, we have been blessed to have a little bit of down time during our work hours, thanks to decreased mission requirements and the luck of nothing breaking on us. With this down time comes many exciting activities, such as hangar baseball, movies, push ups, floor sweeping, maybe going back to the room early and most important; internet time at the mwr. We have logged a lot of hours on the internet, mainly comparing youtube videos of motorcycle and plane crashes or mapping sex offenders in our home neighborhoods (stay away from Killeen, TX).

One night, however, we decided to look at google maps and view satellite images of our houses, or in some cases the houses we call home because we don’t really have one at the moment. Everyone googled their houses, shared and went to the next house. So I google the house I grew up in, and still visit my parents at, and shared with everyone, and all of a sudden I’m the bad guy. I quote Tim in saying “you’ve got a pool you can see from space, you’re a fucking rich kid!” Ouch….

as seen from space

as seen from space

First of all, I am no where near the rich classification, this is my parents house, and they don’t pay my bills. Well, they do, but with my money as I am most decidedly out of the country. Second, if I was rich I probably would have went to college, and started my dream career off on the right foot. So you know what I say to you being jealous of my space pool….


Evidence that I am not rich:

  • I drive a Cobalt, nothing wrong with that…right?
  • I know at least 7 dishes I can make with ramen noodles.
  • People give me spare change when I stand in front of Starbucks with my coffee.
  • I have built a shelter out of cardboard and a tarp (in Iraq though, so….does that even count?)
  • I eat Jack-in-the-Box tacos even when I’m sober
  • My three checking accounts, CD and savings do not add up to $1,000,000 which is the only way to achieve rich status.
  • I’ve never received a hummer in an H2; only an H1.
  • My private plane only seats 4.
  • My chain don’t hang low, but that’s just my ice…

So there you have it, maybe I am rich, but only in life and love…

Fuck Iraq in 15 days!!