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.

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there’s a clamor in your whispering tonight…

21 01 2009

The waiting game. I hate the waiting game with a passion, now more than ever.

Sitting in a dark tent full of guys, waiting for a flight. What a way to spend a day, or two. There’s not a lot to do in here. There’s not a lot to do anywhere here. Everyone is asleep now, and I can’t. I’m too excited about going home. I wish the Air Force could allocate one of it’s planes here now, and get me out of this horrid country. But, they won’t. I have to wait, until tomorrow after lunch. That is when I am scheduled to leave here now. What a mess these last few days have seemed to have been, everyone scattering, trying to make flights, trying to clean up.

The internet was down earlier, so we were left to entertain ourselves with other types of games and conversation. Some were very interesting in fact. Nothing is more exciting than a riveting game of spades, sometimes even violent. How about an interesting article on “the magic of lift” and Bernoulli’s principle. Thanks to that article, I can now explain the principle of lift to a seven year old. What about a debate on urine and ejaculate, and which is more accurate, and which travels further. By the way, a man’s ejaculate travels at 28mph on average. If you have sex at the speed of light, it will travel at the speed of light, plus 28mph. This is all interesting stuff, people! It can get very interesting in here… so interesting it’s border line gay, but whatever. You’re gay!

Anyway, I leave here soon, according to plans…. I’ll believe it when I see it at this point.





stress defined

19 01 2009

Stress (noun) – a state of mental or emotional strain or suspense.

A prime example of this definition is being told that no one can tell you how many more days you have left in Iraq. Also, an impression of incompetence from the Air Force, who’s sole mission is to fly planes in and out of here, on a schedule, but they can’t even get that right. How hard can it really be for the Air Force to reserve three flights, which they already fly in and out of here all the time, and let us get the hell out of here. What the fuck! I need to get out of this fucking country, I need to be with the people I love, and I need to go to sleep….

That’s all. Fuck today!





sprawled out and disconnected

17 01 2009

A day off may not have been the best idea, at least not with so few days left. Don’t get me wrong, I cherish my free time and take it whenever I can get it! However, today is just dragging along so damn slowly. I just want today to be over. The excitement, the anticipation, the stress; it’s all killing me. I mean, seriously, I have four days left in Iraq and all I really want right now is for today to be over. Don’t take that the wrong way, I’m extremely enthusiastic about returning home.

So many of the little things I miss, that you might have no idea anyone would actually want to do. Things like shopping for my own groceries, or getting the chance to get stuck in traffic so I can just listen to the radio in my own little world. Even cleaning the house, because you can take pride in it knowing that it won’t still look dirty no matter how much you clean it (everything in Iraq looks like ass). Holy shit, I can’t wait. But for now, I sit here, glued to my computer, browsing countless bits of useless information and searching for somebody, anybody, to talk to online. I’m freaking bored. What to do…hmmm?

How about a list of things I plan to do the first weekend I get back. Sounds exciting (you better be fucking excited!)

  • Captain and coke – or Captain and Captain, or just Captain, who knows. Maybe on the rocks. Maybe wearing socks?
  • Have My Girlfriend Call Me – that’s right, I’m tired of always calling at the most inopportune and absurd times of the night, so baby, you call me and wake me up!
  • Hamburger Helper – I know, lame right? Well screw you. It’s one of my favorite quick meals, with turkey though, not beef. So, turkey helper….
  • Grocery Shopping – Again, lame, but the concept of food on demand just blows my mind. Right?
  • Sleep All Day – One day of sleep, without something blowing up, without someone walking into my room, without someone knocking on my door. Just sleep.
  • Go for a drive – Simple. A high speed pursuit might be nice too? That is, if it doesn’t take me a whole day and a half to be comfortable going the speed limit again.
  • Jack in the Box tacos – I have to, it’s tradition, it goes with the Captain, and very well at that.
  • Golf – yes, I would like to get in a round of golf, weather permitting.

Anyway, that was totally random. If you’re head hurts, that is your IQ physically destroying itself, so caution! Sorry for putting this disclaimer last, I’ll get that right one of these days.

Something else totally random and highly amusing. At the PX (post exchange, its the military store) tonight, I came to the realization that the pregnancy tests should not be one of the first items to sell out everyday. At least not when we’re not authorized to screw fuck hump fornicate with each other. I’m not in it to ruin things for all the people that are getting some over here, by all means! I’m just saying, this doesn’t raise a red flag to anyone!? It should, I mean, whatever happened to combat effectiveness? Haha, I can’t write this anymore with a straight face. Whatever, do what you gotta do. If married couples are living together over here, then it must not be as big a deal as you make it sound.

I think I’ve shoveled enough shit on this page to last a while, maybe I’ll go draw up a good exit strategy for the middle east. More to follow….

And be sure to check out my newest page, Iraq Things, where you can find a photo journal of things in Iraq.





obvious day at camp stupid

17 01 2009

Today, my last day off in the country of Iraq, is also the worst day off in the country of Iraq. Fuck! It started with me spending $70 to send two boxes home, which really, I’m not even sure the shit inside of them was worth $70. Whatever. Follow that up with the longest, most painstaking and worst haircut I have received, EVER! Then, to top it all of, the power was off all morning AGAIN, and I was supposed to be talking to someone important, WTF!!  I can’t fucking stand this place anymore! Thank god I leave in 4 days!

Here’s the deal, if you can’t speak a damn word of English, not one, then why do you even ask me how I want my haircut? You would probably be better off just taking a razor, and going to town with a blindfold. I might feel a little better about that myself. I have to give the guy some credit, I do admire his attention to detail though, even if it was the wrong style. His attention to detail was so precise in fact, it took him 45 minutes to finish my haircut. I watched two other people come and go next to me while I was sitting there.

Aaaaaagh! Shit. OK, I’m done bitching now, I think. I’m gonna go back to enjoying my little german ball covered citrus fruit jellies… they are delicious. Also, i had another banana in my pocket today, just so you all knew. Threw in a kiwi or two also. Now fuck off!





work…..defined

10 01 2009

Work (n.) – exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something; one’s place of employment. See Also: Job

Job (n.) – a post of employment; full-time or part-time position; the process or requirements, details, etc., of working.

Hey, I’ve got an idea! Suck it! Fuck work, fuck jobs, fuck employment, I quit!

A classic sign of "I'm about to quit!"

A classic sign of "I'm about to quit!"

Work could better be defined as something that everybody “needs” to do but nobody “wants” to. That’s the obvious fact. A job would better be defined as a place you go where a bunch of other blow holes tell you how they are gonna ruin your day, make you miserable, cause you massive amounts of stress, and not compensate you in any way for any extra troubles!

When you start to do work outside of your job description, or you are working at home in your free time to complete a project uncompensated, then you are no longer working. You are taking it in the ass.  Some things that may be included in the “ass taking” category are being given other associates work loads because they fucked up somewhere and can’t handle it, or possibly being given a project that you know cannot be completed in the time given, but it was already promised to the customer. These are just some random situations where you might be taking one in the ass, or maybe they’re real? Either way, everyone takes it, because we have no choice.

A new method of dealing with work might be to place your boss under something heavy, and assist it in falling on him.

A new method of dealing with work might be to place your boss under something heavy, and assist it in falling on him.

Here is my theory on why work kills people, follow me here people….

A job leads to work, which is what everyone knows and expects. What they don’t expect is that extra work is going to cause added stress. Added stress leads to troubled marriages, especially if both spouses experience added stress. A troubled marriage might lead to a divorce if untreated, because lets face it people, you can’t stay married to save your lives and it makes me sick. Work it out, people disagree sometimes and make mistakes! Ok…back on track, sorry. Now, this divorce will lead to one spouse getting the shaft in court, because people are greedy little bitches. Then the one spouse who got the shaft, might dress like Santa, show up at a Christmas party and light the place up! Just a theory, work = death.

So I quit…. I’m running away to Australia, who’s coming with me?