Dear Terrorists,
I am a Navy Aviator. I was born and raised in a small town in NewEngland . I come from a family of five. I was raised in a middle classhome and taught my values by my mother and father.
My dad worked a series of jobs in finance and my mom took care of us kids.
We were not an overly religious family but attended church mostSundays. It was a nice small Episcopal Church.
I have a brother andSister and I am the youngest in my family. I was the first in many generations to attend college.
I have flown Naval aircraft for 16 years. For me the flying was never alifelong dream or a "calling," it just happened. I needed a job and Iliked the challenge.
I continue to do it today because I feel it isimportant to give back to a nation which has given so much to me.
I do it because, although I will never be rich, my family will becomfortable.
I do it because many of my friends have left for theairlines and someone has to do it.
My government has spent millions to train me to fly these multi-milliondollar aircraft.
I make about 70,000 dollars a year and after 20 yearswill be offered a pension.
I like baseball but think the players make too much money.
I am in awe of firemen and policemen and what they doeach day for my community, and like teachers, they just don't get paidenough.
I respect my elders and always use sir or ma'am when addressing astranger
I'm not sure about kids these days but I think that's normalfor every generation.
I tell you all this because when I come for you, I want you to know me.
I won't be hiding behind a woman or a child. I won't be disguised orpretending to be something I am not.
I will be in a U.S. Issue flight suit. I will be wearing standard USissue flight gear, and I will be flying aNavy aircraft clearly marked as a US warplane.
I wish we could meet up close in a small room where I could wrap myhands around your throat and slowly squeeze the life out of you, but unfortunately, You're hiding in a hole in the ground, So we will have to do this a different way.
I want you to know also that I am very good at what I do. I can put a 2,000 lb weapon through a window from 10,000 feet up. I generally only fly at night, so you may want to start sleeping during the day.
I am not eager to die for my country but I am willing to sacrifice my life to protect it from animals like you.I will do everything in my power to ensure no civilians are hurt as I take aim at you.
My countrymen are a forgiving bunch.
Many are already forgetting what you did on Sept 11th. But I will not forget!!
I am coming.
I hope you know me a little bit better, see yousoon...sleep tight.
Signed: A U.S. Navy Pilot
Our Soldiers are one
Of our greatest assets!
God Bless
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Lap Top
Wow...nearly been a couple weeks since I've been on here.
Well, not a whole has happened that is note worthy.
I'm settled in, doing my day to day. Of course, my day-to-day now includes the gym...finally.
I got my lap sent off to my parents. Its some where beween Camp Phoenix and Phoenix, AZ. I wsa told it will take nearly 3 weeks to get it there. evidently, they still use the Camel Express to get packages out of here.
So...its still kind of a pain to go long onto another another computer at a different site after sitting in front of a computer for 12 hours at a time.
Of course, I do fear that when I finally do get my lap top back and hooked up with the 'haji net'...I'll be one of those hermit guys that sits in his room in his under wear surfing.....let's hope not...blech.
I have one more week of the night shift. I will go back on days again for two months and then rotate back. There's pros and cons to both. I NEED to be around people...as those of you who know me...I have a certain energy about me...I MUST talk with someone.
I an get more studying accomplished a night. I can go to the gym at 3am and be just about the only one in there.
Well, the rain is letting off, I'll make my way to the d-fac (dining facility) and get some midnight chow.
Well, not a whole has happened that is note worthy.
I'm settled in, doing my day to day. Of course, my day-to-day now includes the gym...finally.
I got my lap sent off to my parents. Its some where beween Camp Phoenix and Phoenix, AZ. I wsa told it will take nearly 3 weeks to get it there. evidently, they still use the Camel Express to get packages out of here.
So...its still kind of a pain to go long onto another another computer at a different site after sitting in front of a computer for 12 hours at a time.
Of course, I do fear that when I finally do get my lap top back and hooked up with the 'haji net'...I'll be one of those hermit guys that sits in his room in his under wear surfing.....let's hope not...blech.
I have one more week of the night shift. I will go back on days again for two months and then rotate back. There's pros and cons to both. I NEED to be around people...as those of you who know me...I have a certain energy about me...I MUST talk with someone.
I an get more studying accomplished a night. I can go to the gym at 3am and be just about the only one in there.
Well, the rain is letting off, I'll make my way to the d-fac (dining facility) and get some midnight chow.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
...after a LONG break form the gym, I've started back on a quest to get my once athletic body back. I found this article on-line and it stuck with me...when ever I get to feel like slacking, I look at it to fire me up again...
"So, what are you doing for a living these days?" Bob asked me. We're sitting on the couch at one of those tedious holiday get-togethers, you know, the ones where you're supposed to be nice to family members you never see except during major holidays and funerals. I think Bob is my wife's brother-in-law's second cousin or something.
"I'm the assistant editor and a writer for Testosterone magazine," I say. Bob looks at me with a blank expression on his face, as if I'd just told him I sell handmade testicle warmers beside the freeway and was looking to open franchises across the nation.
"It's a bodybuilding magazine," I say.
Blank expression. Deer caught in the headlights. Ronnie Coleman doing trigonometry.
"Oh," Bob finally says, "I heard you were, like, one of those bodybuilder guys or something. So, what's that like, you know, working out every day and stuff? I just don't have time to lift weights all day, but I have been meaning to get rid of this beer belly." He takes another sip of beer. "What do you suggest?" Sip.
At first I was a little offended. I wanted to grab him up and say, "You can't tell I'm a bodybuilder?! Look at my ass! Now, if that's not a nice round squat-built piece of sirloin, I don't know what is! You think that comes naturally? I can crack walnuts with this puppy! Wanna see? Huh, punk? Do ya? Do ya?"
Then I realize this just might cause a scene and could cost me several Christmas presents. I was planning on returning any presents I got and using the money to buy a power rack, so I didn't want to jeopardize this gift getting opportunity. I also realized that old Bob probably had a certain preconceived image of a bodybuilder and I just didn't fit that image. I'm not gorilla huge; I weigh about 205 at 5'11" right now. (When I first started lifting I was a pudgy 159, so that's not too shabby.) Also, I wasn't wearing clown pants, a fluorescent string tank top, a hanky on my head and one of those little fanny packs. And isn't that what real bodybuilders are supposed to wear?
Bob continued to sit there drinking his Natural Light, smoking a cigarette and waiting for an answer, oblivious to the fact that he'd come this close to seeing some serious walnut- crunching ass power. I tried to figure out how I could explain to the average guy what the typical T-Man does and why he does it. How could I get him to understand what it is we do, how we feel, how we live? So I took a deep breath and told him something like this:
"Well, Bob, I guess you could use the term bodybuilder if you really need a label for what it is we do. Most of us actually don't stand on stage and compete, though. We lift weights and manipulate our diets so that we'll look good naked. Sure, it's healthy too, and we'll probably live a longer and more productive life than the average guy, but mostly it's about the naked thing. Truthfully, it goes beyond even that.
"Let's be honest here. We do it because of people like you, Bob. We look at you sitting there with your gut hanging over your belt and we watch you grunt and groan just getting out of a chair. Guys like you are our inspiration, Bob. You're better than Anthony Robbins, Bill Phillips, Deepak Chopra, and Zig fucking Ziglar all wrapped up into one. We love it when guys like you talk about not having time to exercise. Every time we see you munching on a bag of potato chips, you inspire us. You're my shot in the arm, Bob, my living and breathing wake-up call, my own personal success coach.
"You want to know what it is we do? We overcome. We're too busy to train, too, but we overcome. We're too busy to prepare healthy meals and eat them five or six times a day, but we overcome. We can't always afford supplements, our genetics aren't perfect, and we don't always feel like going to the gym. Some of us used to be just like you, Bob, but guess what? We've overcome.
"We like to watch 'normal' people like you tell us about how they can't get in shape. We smile and nod sympathetically like we feel your pain, but actually, we're thinking that you're a pathetic piece of shit that needs to grow a spine and join a gym. You smile sheepishly and say that you just can't stay motivated and just can't stand that feeling of being sore. (For some reason you think that admitting your weaknesses somehow justifies them.) We listen to you bitch and moan. We watch you look for the easy way out. Because of people like you, Bob, we never miss a workout.
"You ask us for advice about diet and training and usually we politely offer some guidance, but deep inside we know you won't take our advice. You know that too. We smile and say, 'Hope that helps. Good luck,' but actually we're thinking, 'Boy, it would suck to be you.' We know that 99% of people won't listen to us. Once they hear that it takes hard work, sacrifice and discipline, they stop listening and tune us out.
"We know they wanted us to say that building a great body is easy, but it just isn't. This did not take five minutes a day on a TorsoTrack. We did not get this way in 12 short weeks using a Bowflex and the Suzanne Somers' 'Get Skinny' diet. A good body does not cost five easy payments of $39.95.
"We like it that while you're eating a candy bar and drinking Mountain Dew, we're sucking down a protein shake. You see, that makes it taste even better to us. While you're asleep we're either getting up early or staying up late, hitting the iron, pushing ourselves, learning, succeeding and failing and rising above the norm with every rep. Can you feel that, Bob? Can you relate? No? Good. This wouldn't be half as fun if you could.
"We do it because we absolutely and totally get off on it. We do it because people like you, Bob, either can't or won't. We do it because what we do in the gym transfers over into the rest of our lives and changes us, physically, mentally, maybe even spiritually. We do it because it beats watching fishing and golf on TV. By the way, do you know what it's like to turn the head of a beautiful woman because of the way you're built? It feels good, Bob. Damned good.
"When we're in the gym, we're in this indescribable euphoria zone. It's a feeling of being on, of being completely alive and aware. If you haven't been there, then it's like trying to describe color to a person who's been blind since birth. Within this haze of pleasure and pain, there's knowledge and power, self-discipline and self-reliance. If you do it long enough, Bob, there's even enlightenment. Sometimes, the answers to questions you didn't even know you had are sitting there on those rubber mats, wrapped up in a neat package of iron plates and bars.
"Want to lose that beer belly, Bob? I have a nutty idea. Put down the fucking beer. I'll tell you what, Bob. Christmas morning I'm getting up real early and hitting the iron. I want to watch my daughter open her presents and spend the whole day with her, so this is the only time I have to train. The gym will be closed, so I'm going out in my garage to workout. You be at my house at six in the morning, okay? I'll be glad to help you get started on a weight training program. It'll be colder than Hillary Clinton's coochie in there, so dress warm.
"But let me tell you something, Bob. If you don't show up, don't bother asking me again. And don't you ever sit there and let me hear you bitch about your beer belly again. This is your chance, your big opportunity to break out of that rut. If you don't show up, Bob, you've learned a very important lesson about yourself, haven't you? You won't like that lesson.
"You won't like that feeling in the pit of your stomach either or that taste in your mouth. It will taste worse than defeat, Bob. Defeat tastes pretty goddamned nasty, but what you'll be experiencing will be much worse. It will be the knowledge that you're weak, mentally and physically. What's worse is that you'll have accepted that feeling. The feeling will always be with you. In the happiest moments of your life, it'll be there, lying under the surface like a malignant tumor. Ignore it at your own peril, Bob.
"Don't look at me like that either. This just may be the best Christmas present you'll get this year. Next Christmas, Bob, when I see you again, I'm going to be a little bigger, a little stronger, and a little leaner. What will you be? Will you still be making excuses? This is a gift, Bob, from me to you. I'm giving you the chance to look fate in those pretty eyes of hers and say, 'Step off, bitch. This is my party and you're not invited.' What do you say, Bob? Monday, Christmas morning, 6am, my house. The ball's in your court."
Okay, so maybe that's not the exact words I used with Bob, but you get the picture. Will Bob show up Monday? I don't know, but I kind of doubt it. In fact, Bob will probably take me off his Christmas card list. He probably thinks I've got "too much Testosterone," like that's a bad thing. I think Bob is just stuck in a rut, and as the saying goes, the only difference between a rut and a grave is depth.
The way out of the rut is to make major changes in your life, most of which won't be too pleasant in the beginning. The opportunity to make those changes seldom comes as bluntly as I put it to Bob. Most of the time, that opportunity knocks very softly. What I did was basically give Bob a verbal slap in the face. You can react two ways to a slap. You can get angry at the person doing the slapping, or you can realize that he was just trying to get you to wake up and focus on what you really want and, more importantly, what it'll take to get it.
If you're a regular T-mag reader, I doubt you need to be called out like Bob. But maybe you've caught yourself slacking a little here lately. Maybe you've missed a few workouts or maybe you started a little too early on the usual holiday feasting, like, say, back in September. Just remember that the time to start working on that summer body is now. The time to get rid of those bad habits that hold you back in the gym is now. You want to look totally different by next Christmas? Start now. This isn't because of the holidays or any corny New Year's resolutions either. The best time is always now.
Christmas day I want you to enjoy being with your family and friends. I want you to open presents, sip a little eggnog and have a good meal. But if your regularily scheduled workout happens to fall on December 25th, what will you be doing at six o'clock that morning?
That's what separates us from guys like Bob.
"So, what are you doing for a living these days?" Bob asked me. We're sitting on the couch at one of those tedious holiday get-togethers, you know, the ones where you're supposed to be nice to family members you never see except during major holidays and funerals. I think Bob is my wife's brother-in-law's second cousin or something.
"I'm the assistant editor and a writer for Testosterone magazine," I say. Bob looks at me with a blank expression on his face, as if I'd just told him I sell handmade testicle warmers beside the freeway and was looking to open franchises across the nation.
"It's a bodybuilding magazine," I say.
Blank expression. Deer caught in the headlights. Ronnie Coleman doing trigonometry.
"Oh," Bob finally says, "I heard you were, like, one of those bodybuilder guys or something. So, what's that like, you know, working out every day and stuff? I just don't have time to lift weights all day, but I have been meaning to get rid of this beer belly." He takes another sip of beer. "What do you suggest?" Sip.
At first I was a little offended. I wanted to grab him up and say, "You can't tell I'm a bodybuilder?! Look at my ass! Now, if that's not a nice round squat-built piece of sirloin, I don't know what is! You think that comes naturally? I can crack walnuts with this puppy! Wanna see? Huh, punk? Do ya? Do ya?"
Then I realize this just might cause a scene and could cost me several Christmas presents. I was planning on returning any presents I got and using the money to buy a power rack, so I didn't want to jeopardize this gift getting opportunity. I also realized that old Bob probably had a certain preconceived image of a bodybuilder and I just didn't fit that image. I'm not gorilla huge; I weigh about 205 at 5'11" right now. (When I first started lifting I was a pudgy 159, so that's not too shabby.) Also, I wasn't wearing clown pants, a fluorescent string tank top, a hanky on my head and one of those little fanny packs. And isn't that what real bodybuilders are supposed to wear?
Bob continued to sit there drinking his Natural Light, smoking a cigarette and waiting for an answer, oblivious to the fact that he'd come this close to seeing some serious walnut- crunching ass power. I tried to figure out how I could explain to the average guy what the typical T-Man does and why he does it. How could I get him to understand what it is we do, how we feel, how we live? So I took a deep breath and told him something like this:
"Well, Bob, I guess you could use the term bodybuilder if you really need a label for what it is we do. Most of us actually don't stand on stage and compete, though. We lift weights and manipulate our diets so that we'll look good naked. Sure, it's healthy too, and we'll probably live a longer and more productive life than the average guy, but mostly it's about the naked thing. Truthfully, it goes beyond even that.
"Let's be honest here. We do it because of people like you, Bob. We look at you sitting there with your gut hanging over your belt and we watch you grunt and groan just getting out of a chair. Guys like you are our inspiration, Bob. You're better than Anthony Robbins, Bill Phillips, Deepak Chopra, and Zig fucking Ziglar all wrapped up into one. We love it when guys like you talk about not having time to exercise. Every time we see you munching on a bag of potato chips, you inspire us. You're my shot in the arm, Bob, my living and breathing wake-up call, my own personal success coach.
"You want to know what it is we do? We overcome. We're too busy to train, too, but we overcome. We're too busy to prepare healthy meals and eat them five or six times a day, but we overcome. We can't always afford supplements, our genetics aren't perfect, and we don't always feel like going to the gym. Some of us used to be just like you, Bob, but guess what? We've overcome.
"We like to watch 'normal' people like you tell us about how they can't get in shape. We smile and nod sympathetically like we feel your pain, but actually, we're thinking that you're a pathetic piece of shit that needs to grow a spine and join a gym. You smile sheepishly and say that you just can't stay motivated and just can't stand that feeling of being sore. (For some reason you think that admitting your weaknesses somehow justifies them.) We listen to you bitch and moan. We watch you look for the easy way out. Because of people like you, Bob, we never miss a workout.
"You ask us for advice about diet and training and usually we politely offer some guidance, but deep inside we know you won't take our advice. You know that too. We smile and say, 'Hope that helps. Good luck,' but actually we're thinking, 'Boy, it would suck to be you.' We know that 99% of people won't listen to us. Once they hear that it takes hard work, sacrifice and discipline, they stop listening and tune us out.
"We know they wanted us to say that building a great body is easy, but it just isn't. This did not take five minutes a day on a TorsoTrack. We did not get this way in 12 short weeks using a Bowflex and the Suzanne Somers' 'Get Skinny' diet. A good body does not cost five easy payments of $39.95.
"We like it that while you're eating a candy bar and drinking Mountain Dew, we're sucking down a protein shake. You see, that makes it taste even better to us. While you're asleep we're either getting up early or staying up late, hitting the iron, pushing ourselves, learning, succeeding and failing and rising above the norm with every rep. Can you feel that, Bob? Can you relate? No? Good. This wouldn't be half as fun if you could.
"We do it because we absolutely and totally get off on it. We do it because people like you, Bob, either can't or won't. We do it because what we do in the gym transfers over into the rest of our lives and changes us, physically, mentally, maybe even spiritually. We do it because it beats watching fishing and golf on TV. By the way, do you know what it's like to turn the head of a beautiful woman because of the way you're built? It feels good, Bob. Damned good.
"When we're in the gym, we're in this indescribable euphoria zone. It's a feeling of being on, of being completely alive and aware. If you haven't been there, then it's like trying to describe color to a person who's been blind since birth. Within this haze of pleasure and pain, there's knowledge and power, self-discipline and self-reliance. If you do it long enough, Bob, there's even enlightenment. Sometimes, the answers to questions you didn't even know you had are sitting there on those rubber mats, wrapped up in a neat package of iron plates and bars.
"Want to lose that beer belly, Bob? I have a nutty idea. Put down the fucking beer. I'll tell you what, Bob. Christmas morning I'm getting up real early and hitting the iron. I want to watch my daughter open her presents and spend the whole day with her, so this is the only time I have to train. The gym will be closed, so I'm going out in my garage to workout. You be at my house at six in the morning, okay? I'll be glad to help you get started on a weight training program. It'll be colder than Hillary Clinton's coochie in there, so dress warm.
"But let me tell you something, Bob. If you don't show up, don't bother asking me again. And don't you ever sit there and let me hear you bitch about your beer belly again. This is your chance, your big opportunity to break out of that rut. If you don't show up, Bob, you've learned a very important lesson about yourself, haven't you? You won't like that lesson.
"You won't like that feeling in the pit of your stomach either or that taste in your mouth. It will taste worse than defeat, Bob. Defeat tastes pretty goddamned nasty, but what you'll be experiencing will be much worse. It will be the knowledge that you're weak, mentally and physically. What's worse is that you'll have accepted that feeling. The feeling will always be with you. In the happiest moments of your life, it'll be there, lying under the surface like a malignant tumor. Ignore it at your own peril, Bob.
"Don't look at me like that either. This just may be the best Christmas present you'll get this year. Next Christmas, Bob, when I see you again, I'm going to be a little bigger, a little stronger, and a little leaner. What will you be? Will you still be making excuses? This is a gift, Bob, from me to you. I'm giving you the chance to look fate in those pretty eyes of hers and say, 'Step off, bitch. This is my party and you're not invited.' What do you say, Bob? Monday, Christmas morning, 6am, my house. The ball's in your court."
Okay, so maybe that's not the exact words I used with Bob, but you get the picture. Will Bob show up Monday? I don't know, but I kind of doubt it. In fact, Bob will probably take me off his Christmas card list. He probably thinks I've got "too much Testosterone," like that's a bad thing. I think Bob is just stuck in a rut, and as the saying goes, the only difference between a rut and a grave is depth.
The way out of the rut is to make major changes in your life, most of which won't be too pleasant in the beginning. The opportunity to make those changes seldom comes as bluntly as I put it to Bob. Most of the time, that opportunity knocks very softly. What I did was basically give Bob a verbal slap in the face. You can react two ways to a slap. You can get angry at the person doing the slapping, or you can realize that he was just trying to get you to wake up and focus on what you really want and, more importantly, what it'll take to get it.
If you're a regular T-mag reader, I doubt you need to be called out like Bob. But maybe you've caught yourself slacking a little here lately. Maybe you've missed a few workouts or maybe you started a little too early on the usual holiday feasting, like, say, back in September. Just remember that the time to start working on that summer body is now. The time to get rid of those bad habits that hold you back in the gym is now. You want to look totally different by next Christmas? Start now. This isn't because of the holidays or any corny New Year's resolutions either. The best time is always now.
Christmas day I want you to enjoy being with your family and friends. I want you to open presents, sip a little eggnog and have a good meal. But if your regularily scheduled workout happens to fall on December 25th, what will you be doing at six o'clock that morning?
That's what separates us from guys like Bob.
Ok...these are some I posted else where some time back...
THE DOOR:
There I was....
I was at work one afternoon. I was on my way out of the building to go do something. The building I work in has several electronic card reader security systems that you have to use your 'proximity badge' to unlock the doors for entry / exit. Well, as usual, my mind was on something. (as I usually am, trying to balance everything I need to do during a day) evidently, I kinda skipped the part of 'badging out' as I walked to the steel exit door.
WHAM!
Now....that would normally be enough for most people. But for me? Nope. I looked at the door with my patented quizzical look and actually tried to walk thru the door again....at least I didn't actually 'crumple' into it this time.
FINALLY, it dawned on me that I hadn't badged out. So I did...and miraculously, the door unlocked and I was able to step through.
This is not the end though. Nope.
Upon opening the door, I walked into the entry room where the security officer was sitting as well as a couple other people just happened to be there too. Yes, they were all looking at me. Not giving them the satisfaction, I kept my eyes straight, walked with as much confidence as I could muster, and replied as I walked past them out of the building: "Like you've never walked into a door before"....
THE HAIR CUT:
After my 'incident', I was trying to grow out my hair, so that it would at least cover the scar on my neck. It didn't work. I have thick, wavy hair. Now women will say: I WISH I could have hair like that. Ok, you can have it. I always wanted to have my hair like 'Sonny Crocket' from Miami Vice. But, I digress.
So....not being able to stand the sight of the unruly mop of hair on my head any longer, I made my way to the barbershop. My number is called and I go and take my seat in the chair. The little lady puts that little paper thing around my neck, then the apron went on.
All of a sudden, she looked at me and asked: What happened to your face?
Hmm? Oh! This! (pointing to my scar) I got this the last time I was here!
...I had to give her a nice tip after that.
UPDATE:
...ok I've had to be a little creative about this...I still get stared at from time to time...and even once in a while, somebody will inquire about the scar. Some, more polite than others. There I was...
My full time job is a contractor at the Air Force Space Command Headquarters building. I was in line at the little convenient store within the building to get my lottery tickets. (A guy can dream, cant he?)
So...there I am minding my own business thinking of what I am going to do with ALL my millions that were about to be bestowed upon me by fate and seven electronically generated numbers, when my 'spidey senses' kicked in. SOMEBODY was watching me. Come to find out, it wasn't some sort of genetic freak bent on ruling the world, it was the lady standing in line behind me. She had broken the perimeter of my comfort zone and she was....looking at...'it'. And of course then came the inevitable: "Excuse me, not to be rude, but happened to your face?" Now, me..not being one to pass up such an easy opportunity. I turned to her and replied:"I was getting my hair cut, and I sneezed."
That pretty much took care of that and it was my turn at the counter. I made my purchase and left, knowing there were at least 3 people's eyes following me in bewilderment. Oh, and as far as the lottery tickets I purchased...I didn't win.
THE CAT
I have 'inherited' my parent's cat. The cat was there first, but he was an outdoor cat. Now, in his middle-age...he's become a house cat. And from what I could tell from him....it was good. Then....the dog, in form of cute furry puppy entered the picture. They....got along....but you could feel the 'tension' between the two of them...and I eventually ended up with the cat.
One morning, after my multiple alarms have begun to blare into my ears from throughout my house; (I HATE waking up) I started down the hallway towards another alarm to silence its assault on my ears.
You know that first thing in the morning, when your body refuses to fully come awake....one eye adamantly refuses to open...the other struggles to open, your limited vision is blurry....as you grope down the hallway, hoping not to fall over something you neglected to put away but meant to? Yeah, that was the state I was in....when the cat decided to pull a 'Lassie' on me.
You know, Lassie. The dog that on TV could summon the National Guard with a woof!
Well, my cat was doing just that...but without the woof.
He'd take a few steps down the hallway ahead of me....good. He's outta my way, I'm gonna stop at the bathroom. NOPE.
He actually gave me a 'look' and acted....oddly....came back to me...then turned down the hall way again.
Just like Lassie: WOOF! WWOF! What's that girl? WOOF! WOOF! Timmy's fallen down the well on Old Doc Schumacher's property? Woof! WOOF! Just like that, swear to gawd! I'd take a couple more steps along the hallway....eyes still refusing to function....and this cat....kept stopping, turning to me trying to tell me something.
When I reached the laundry room, he took a couple steps inside...then back out....freaked out...but wanting me to look in. Now...I'm getting annoyed. WHAT???? (I actually said this out loud) Turned on the lights...and saw a huge trail of black ants coming from somewhere leading up and all over his food dish. Oh......THAT'S what you want to tell me. (meeeoow: translation: No shit, Sherlock)
So, I cleaned up the area, killed the ants, scoured the floor to get rid of them, and then washed his bowl with soap and water. I refilled it with a nice fresh bowl of food.
This cat....took a look at his bowl....and looked back at me....with an actual look of disgust on his face! This is the same cat that I've seen stop in his tracks...and lick his own ass....but won't eat from a clean dish....
THE DOOR:
There I was....
I was at work one afternoon. I was on my way out of the building to go do something. The building I work in has several electronic card reader security systems that you have to use your 'proximity badge' to unlock the doors for entry / exit. Well, as usual, my mind was on something. (as I usually am, trying to balance everything I need to do during a day) evidently, I kinda skipped the part of 'badging out' as I walked to the steel exit door.
WHAM!
Now....that would normally be enough for most people. But for me? Nope. I looked at the door with my patented quizzical look and actually tried to walk thru the door again....at least I didn't actually 'crumple' into it this time.
FINALLY, it dawned on me that I hadn't badged out. So I did...and miraculously, the door unlocked and I was able to step through.
This is not the end though. Nope.
Upon opening the door, I walked into the entry room where the security officer was sitting as well as a couple other people just happened to be there too. Yes, they were all looking at me. Not giving them the satisfaction, I kept my eyes straight, walked with as much confidence as I could muster, and replied as I walked past them out of the building: "Like you've never walked into a door before"....
THE HAIR CUT:
After my 'incident', I was trying to grow out my hair, so that it would at least cover the scar on my neck. It didn't work. I have thick, wavy hair. Now women will say: I WISH I could have hair like that. Ok, you can have it. I always wanted to have my hair like 'Sonny Crocket' from Miami Vice. But, I digress.
So....not being able to stand the sight of the unruly mop of hair on my head any longer, I made my way to the barbershop. My number is called and I go and take my seat in the chair. The little lady puts that little paper thing around my neck, then the apron went on.
All of a sudden, she looked at me and asked: What happened to your face?
Hmm? Oh! This! (pointing to my scar) I got this the last time I was here!
...I had to give her a nice tip after that.
UPDATE:
...ok I've had to be a little creative about this...I still get stared at from time to time...and even once in a while, somebody will inquire about the scar. Some, more polite than others. There I was...
My full time job is a contractor at the Air Force Space Command Headquarters building. I was in line at the little convenient store within the building to get my lottery tickets. (A guy can dream, cant he?)
So...there I am minding my own business thinking of what I am going to do with ALL my millions that were about to be bestowed upon me by fate and seven electronically generated numbers, when my 'spidey senses' kicked in. SOMEBODY was watching me. Come to find out, it wasn't some sort of genetic freak bent on ruling the world, it was the lady standing in line behind me. She had broken the perimeter of my comfort zone and she was....looking at...'it'. And of course then came the inevitable: "Excuse me, not to be rude, but happened to your face?" Now, me..not being one to pass up such an easy opportunity. I turned to her and replied:"I was getting my hair cut, and I sneezed."
That pretty much took care of that and it was my turn at the counter. I made my purchase and left, knowing there were at least 3 people's eyes following me in bewilderment. Oh, and as far as the lottery tickets I purchased...I didn't win.
THE CAT
I have 'inherited' my parent's cat. The cat was there first, but he was an outdoor cat. Now, in his middle-age...he's become a house cat. And from what I could tell from him....it was good. Then....the dog, in form of cute furry puppy entered the picture. They....got along....but you could feel the 'tension' between the two of them...and I eventually ended up with the cat.
One morning, after my multiple alarms have begun to blare into my ears from throughout my house; (I HATE waking up) I started down the hallway towards another alarm to silence its assault on my ears.
You know that first thing in the morning, when your body refuses to fully come awake....one eye adamantly refuses to open...the other struggles to open, your limited vision is blurry....as you grope down the hallway, hoping not to fall over something you neglected to put away but meant to? Yeah, that was the state I was in....when the cat decided to pull a 'Lassie' on me.
You know, Lassie. The dog that on TV could summon the National Guard with a woof!
Well, my cat was doing just that...but without the woof.
He'd take a few steps down the hallway ahead of me....good. He's outta my way, I'm gonna stop at the bathroom. NOPE.
He actually gave me a 'look' and acted....oddly....came back to me...then turned down the hall way again.
Just like Lassie: WOOF! WWOF! What's that girl? WOOF! WOOF! Timmy's fallen down the well on Old Doc Schumacher's property? Woof! WOOF! Just like that, swear to gawd! I'd take a couple more steps along the hallway....eyes still refusing to function....and this cat....kept stopping, turning to me trying to tell me something.
When I reached the laundry room, he took a couple steps inside...then back out....freaked out...but wanting me to look in. Now...I'm getting annoyed. WHAT???? (I actually said this out loud) Turned on the lights...and saw a huge trail of black ants coming from somewhere leading up and all over his food dish. Oh......THAT'S what you want to tell me. (meeeoow: translation: No shit, Sherlock)
So, I cleaned up the area, killed the ants, scoured the floor to get rid of them, and then washed his bowl with soap and water. I refilled it with a nice fresh bowl of food.
This cat....took a look at his bowl....and looked back at me....with an actual look of disgust on his face! This is the same cat that I've seen stop in his tracks...and lick his own ass....but won't eat from a clean dish....
Born Again Hooah!
I’ve now been here at Camp Phoenix for nearly 3 weeks. I’ve been re-submerged into the military way of life. I haven’t worn the uniform of awarrior in over 10 years, but some things do not easily leave you. I still walk tall. I get choked up when a patriotic song / movie plays. Iguess you can say I’m deeply wrapped into the flag of this great and amazingcountry of ours.
One of the ‘terms’ used....alot here in the military is: “hooah”.
So, you may be asking: What is hooah? How is hooah used? Where can I getsome?
Well, I looked it up using the Googles. (Bush-ism)
Basically, Hooah is a state of mind. A state of being and is a catch-all word for just about anything and everything except the word ‘no’.
Below you will see the various definitions of the word Hooah.
The different branches of the armed forces of these here United States ofAmerica say it differently.
Army: Hooah!
Air Force (Falls under the Department of the Army): HOOAH!
Marines: OOHRAH!
Navy: YAAAR, MATEY! (don’t ask, we still can’t figure it out)
“You can hear it echoing from the hallowed halls of Fort Benning, Ga.'s Infantry Center to the ranges at Fort Lewis, Wash. It is uttered at award ceremonies, bellowed from formations, and repeated before, during and aftertraining missions. You can hear it shouted by Air Force Security Forces(HOOAH!!! See how that works?? THAT just happened!!), Para rescue, and Combat Controllers. The word is thundered out by United States Marines (who pronounceit "OohRah!").” -armyhooahrace.army.mil
Dictionary Definition of Hooah
By Rod Powers, About.comSee More About:
Hooah (hoo ah) adj., adv., n., v., conj., interj., excla. (Orig. unknown)Slang.
1. Referring to or meaning anything and everything except "no".
2. What to say when at a loss for words.
3.a. Good copy. b. Roger. c. Solid copy. d. Good. e. Great. f. Messagereceived. g. Understood. h. Acknowledged.
4.a. Glad to meet you. b. Welcome.
5. "All right!"
6.a. I don't know the answer, but I'll check on it.b. I haven't the foggiest idea.
7. I am not listening.
8. "That is enough of your drivel; sit down!"
9. Yes.
10. "You've got to be kidding me!"
11. Thank you.
12. Go to the next slide.
13. You've taken the correct action.
14. I don't know what that means, but I'm too embarrassed to ask forclarification.
15. Squared away (He's pretty hooah.)
16. Amen!
I’ve now been here at Camp Phoenix for nearly 3 weeks. I’ve been re-submerged into the military way of life. I haven’t worn the uniform of awarrior in over 10 years, but some things do not easily leave you. I still walk tall. I get choked up when a patriotic song / movie plays. Iguess you can say I’m deeply wrapped into the flag of this great and amazingcountry of ours.
One of the ‘terms’ used....alot here in the military is: “hooah”.
So, you may be asking: What is hooah? How is hooah used? Where can I getsome?
Well, I looked it up using the Googles. (Bush-ism)
Basically, Hooah is a state of mind. A state of being and is a catch-all word for just about anything and everything except the word ‘no’.
Below you will see the various definitions of the word Hooah.
The different branches of the armed forces of these here United States ofAmerica say it differently.
Army: Hooah!
Air Force (Falls under the Department of the Army): HOOAH!
Marines: OOHRAH!
Navy: YAAAR, MATEY! (don’t ask, we still can’t figure it out)
“You can hear it echoing from the hallowed halls of Fort Benning, Ga.'s Infantry Center to the ranges at Fort Lewis, Wash. It is uttered at award ceremonies, bellowed from formations, and repeated before, during and aftertraining missions. You can hear it shouted by Air Force Security Forces(HOOAH!!! See how that works?? THAT just happened!!), Para rescue, and Combat Controllers. The word is thundered out by United States Marines (who pronounceit "OohRah!").” -armyhooahrace.army.mil
Dictionary Definition of Hooah
By Rod Powers, About.comSee More About:
Hooah (hoo ah) adj., adv., n., v., conj., interj., excla. (Orig. unknown)Slang.
1. Referring to or meaning anything and everything except "no".
2. What to say when at a loss for words.
3.a. Good copy. b. Roger. c. Solid copy. d. Good. e. Great. f. Messagereceived. g. Understood. h. Acknowledged.
4.a. Glad to meet you. b. Welcome.
5. "All right!"
6.a. I don't know the answer, but I'll check on it.b. I haven't the foggiest idea.
7. I am not listening.
8. "That is enough of your drivel; sit down!"
9. Yes.
10. "You've got to be kidding me!"
11. Thank you.
12. Go to the next slide.
13. You've taken the correct action.
14. I don't know what that means, but I'm too embarrassed to ask forclarification.
15. Squared away (He's pretty hooah.)
16. Amen!
There I Wuz....
Today was a 'mail run'.
Not a very far distance from our help desk to the post office, but we opt to take the 'Gator' over to pick it up in case there's a lot that day. (plus, it's something to drive) A Gator is a 6-wheeled utility vehicle approximately the size of a golf cart.
It rained last night and a bit this am. I made a bad choice of putting on my running shoes. (they are comfy) I paid the price by finding the deepest friggn' puddle on post. (its a gift) That's a great way to start off a day....beyond being assaulted by demon frogs. I changed my socks and shoes and went back to the office. Our office floor was scuzzy, so I opted to mop it up and try to make it clean. (I'm semi-OCD)
Back to the Gator. I was bored, so I offered to go with the appointed mail girl in our shop. I asked to drive. "I even mopped the floor!"(see where that works in?)
So, I now get to drive.
WAHOO!
(not the same as my Audi, but it was technically a convertable) the 1/2 mile we drove from the office to the post office, I had to drive thru EVERY puddle I could (without splashing any troops...they're armed, ya know) and every bump I could find. We drew attention...we were probably the only ones there that had the ear to ear grins etched onto our faces. As I sat in my new...toy...while Crystal was getting the mail, I pondered the following:
Are my youthful... boy at heart antics an endearing trait or not?
I dunno...suppose I could refer to some of my ex's to find out...still thinking on that, I found 6 new puddles, nearly splashed a Afghan local, and nearly got it air borne off a speed bump.
I don't argue with it...I am what I am...
Today was a 'mail run'.
Not a very far distance from our help desk to the post office, but we opt to take the 'Gator' over to pick it up in case there's a lot that day. (plus, it's something to drive) A Gator is a 6-wheeled utility vehicle approximately the size of a golf cart.
It rained last night and a bit this am. I made a bad choice of putting on my running shoes. (they are comfy) I paid the price by finding the deepest friggn' puddle on post. (its a gift) That's a great way to start off a day....beyond being assaulted by demon frogs. I changed my socks and shoes and went back to the office. Our office floor was scuzzy, so I opted to mop it up and try to make it clean. (I'm semi-OCD)
Back to the Gator. I was bored, so I offered to go with the appointed mail girl in our shop. I asked to drive. "I even mopped the floor!"(see where that works in?)
So, I now get to drive.
WAHOO!
(not the same as my Audi, but it was technically a convertable) the 1/2 mile we drove from the office to the post office, I had to drive thru EVERY puddle I could (without splashing any troops...they're armed, ya know) and every bump I could find. We drew attention...we were probably the only ones there that had the ear to ear grins etched onto our faces. As I sat in my new...toy...while Crystal was getting the mail, I pondered the following:
Are my youthful...
I dunno...suppose I could refer to some of my ex's to find out...still thinking on that, I found 6 new puddles, nearly splashed a Afghan local, and nearly got it air borne off a speed bump.
I don't argue with it...I am what I am...
I was assaulted by a frog this AM.
ok, not really...but one jumped in my path as I was on my way to a 3am walk down my 60 yard path to the latrines. You know when you are not quite awake but need to go somewhere? The brain isn't fully engaged, nor will your eyes fully open and focus? Something leapt out in front of me. To say the least, it had my full attention. My eyes were wide open then. I know...a frog. But! Did you know there are some evil creepy crawlies here? I want nothing to do with those.
Oh...and if you hear that I screamed like a little girl when that happened....don't believe them. They LIE!
ok, not really...but one jumped in my path as I was on my way to a 3am walk down my 60 yard path to the latrines. You know when you are not quite awake but need to go somewhere? The brain isn't fully engaged, nor will your eyes fully open and focus? Something leapt out in front of me. To say the least, it had my full attention. My eyes were wide open then. I know...a frog. But! Did you know there are some evil creepy crawlies here? I want nothing to do with those.
Oh...and if you hear that I screamed like a little girl when that happened....don't believe them. They LIE!
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