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Archive for November, 2009


Monday, November 30th, 2009

Sleep deprived, allergy juggling kids and school…and I keep forgetting to proofread stuff before I post it up.

Surprised Kitten Is Surprised

Monday, November 30th, 2009



Things I Learned the Hard Way on BMQ(L) 0129

Monday, November 30th, 2009

(Submitted by Len)

-Don’t forget your parade boots for Remembrance Day


-Meet your timings or it could be 50 pushups

-There’s a name for people who try to take assault the trench, after throwing the grenade 30 meters, with 8 rounds left in their 9th and final magazine: Casualty.

Advendtures in Babysitting part II

Wednesday, November 25th, 2009

After sharing my first AIBS post with friends and family a few other experiences that I had left out were brought to my attention, and as such I felt obliged to share them with y’all as well.

For the first two years after I split from my ex I used the on-post Summer Day care for my children. It was inexpensive and really worked with my work schedule. My children seemed to enjoy it, but some of the reports that I would receive back from the counselors concerned me a bit.

Counselor: Oh Chief, your kids are just delightful, your daughter did stand up comedy for the talent show we did today. Did she really tell some women that she’s not just like her mom, because she’s not tired of putting up with your crap yet?

Me: Where do you get delightful from that?

Counselor: Have you heard about her corporation? She has Shannon Sharp doing inspirational speaking for them. What an imagination!

Me: Sounds like she got those contractual obligations out of the way.

Counselor: Huh?

Me: She better hope so, otherwise he might have grounds to sue her.

Counselor: Shannon Sharp is going to sue your daughter?

Me: You know what, I think I’ve said too much. You better ask her attorneys if you have any more questions.

At that point I couldn’t keep a straight face any more.

Last year I decided to utilize a different form of day care for my children while I worked. A nice woman with 7 children of her own had an ad out in the paper to do daycare at her home. Since my work schedule had changed and I worked weekends I needed a place that would support that new schedule, as the post day care was Mon-Fri. This woman was and is wonderful. Some of her children are around the ages of my kids, and she has some older children that help her.

The sitter’s eight year-old daughter, Averie, developed a crush on my 10 year-old son. It was cute and harmless, or so both my son and I thought.

For my son’s last birthday he received a Nintendo DSI, which has a voice record function. I picked my son up from daycare the one day, and from the back seat I hear this little eight year-old’s voice:

Ohhhhhhh, (insert my son’s name here), I loooove youuuuu sooooooo baaaaaaad. Ohhhhhhhhh I want to tickle your wee-wee! MMMMMmmmmm (insert son’s name here) I’m going to make you mine. I love you sooooooooooo baaaaaaaaaad!

My son was even more shocked then I was. He had no idea that this little girl had recorded that on his DS, and had just heard it for the first time as well. 

The conversation with the sitter the next day was probably the 2nd most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever experienced.

Bohemian Muppetry

Tuesday, November 24th, 2009

Thanks to Lorna for sending this in to me.


…Who Have Connections!

Tuesday, November 24th, 2009

Believe it or not, the story still isn’t done. This is a continuation of the story Scott told me about the shoplifting airman from my previous two posts, “Shoplifters Are Bad” and “Especially From Navy Guys.” Now you can find out the rest. Trust me, the wait is worth it.

I left off on the old post with the foolish young USAF airman being “escorted” to the Air Force base nearby from the game store Scott runs.  Scott swore up and down to me that what happened after he brought the kid back to his base rarely happens.

The police officer returned within an hour. In Charleston, it’s hard enough getting a cop to return a call within a few days, let alone physically in an hour. He comes up, ducks to get in, and then told Scott what the skinny was. “I just dropped the airman off at the base, and the impression I got was that they were just going to slap him on the wrists and let him go.”

“Well, that’s not acceptable.” was Scott’s reply.

The cop then responds, “You know, since all of this happened here, and technically the Air base is inside my patrol route, I could get the kid back.”

Scott told him that that was OK, he would just make some phone calls. And he did just that, once the cop gave his partings. He called up the First Sergeants on both sides of the runway at the air base, both of whom were good friends of Scott. One was a Chief Master Sergeant, and the other a Master Sergeant, E-9 and E-7, respectively. To say that they had some pull is like saying I am a nerd. Trust me on this one.

Anyhow Scott told them what the situation was, and they both assured him it would be taken care of. And it was. The airman got nothing but flak and crappy jobs.

On both sides of the runway.

“Got a backed up latrine? We have someone to take care of that.”

Then on the Air Traffic Control side, “Airplane’s porto needs emptying? We got someone for that.” Yeah, misery.

Anyhow, the officers eventually get wind of this, and they decide to step in. They noticed that the airman was getting crappy jobs left and right, and knew he pissed someone off, but not who. Either way, they decided to step in and have the kid transferred out for his physical and psychological well-being.

Who’s desk does a transfer order go across when it’s put in? That’s right, the first sergeant’s desk. The Chief knew what was going on, and figured he should let the transfer go through.

To Maxwell AFB, in Alaska.

Then he waited a week, called up Scott, and told him what happened. Scott said that the kid must have learned his lesson, to which the chief replied, “Oh, I’m not through, yet. I’ll call you back once I’m done.”

He then calls up the base in Alaska, and tells them who he is, asking to speak with his equivalent there. The transfer is put through, and he tells the First Sergeant in Alaska who he is, then proceeded to tell him about the airman.

“You should be getting a transfer from here in South Carolina. The reason why he was transferred is because he got caught stealing from a local game shop down here in Charleston, the Green Dragon –”

And he is cut off by these shocked words, “Wait a minute, he stole from Scott?” To say that the airman’s life was hell from then on out is an understatement.

Oh Hell No!

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

A paralyzed Marine was denied TSGLI benefits because his injury was the result of a vaccine the military gave him rather than combat. Following a policy that was created after he filed his claim.


Adventures in Babysitting

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

Since someday Skippy will have to look to a babysitter to have even a smidgen of what was once a life, assuming Skippy had a life to begin with, I have decided to put together a few little vignettes of my experiences being babysat, to when I have had to babysit, to when I’ve had to use babysitters myself, well not for myself, well there was that onetime, for my own kids… you know what I mean!

As a young child one of the most detestable experiences you will go through are when your parents get all gussied up to go out and have fun leaving you with a “sitter”. Why do the call them “sitters”? Because that is all you are allowed to do when these Attila the Hun little bitches get control over you.


…Especially From Navy Guys…

Monday, November 16th, 2009

I said in my last post, “Shoplifters Are Bad,” that the airman got exactly what he deserved. What I didn’t say was exactly what that was. I deliberately left the punishment ambiguous, as it was running a bit long. Regardless, Scott had more to tell about that fateful day.

Here’s the scene: Scott called the police after being recommended to do so by a shipyard bubba for something that an Air Force airman did, which was stealing from the local game shop, and is now sitting in a corner with a few bruises given to him by a couple of marines. The two marines are now standing three feet away from the airman, waiting for him to do something dumb.

Twenty minutes after Scott made the phone call, a police officer comes up to the store entrance. His build is tall, lanky, and black as night. In fact, the cop is so tall he has to duck to get into the store. He walked over to Scott and asked him, “Are you the owner or manager of this establishment?”

In most business situations, like unsolicited sales visits, Scott uses the term, manager. When it’s a legal matter, he is the owner. In the South, property ownership is first, color is second. Scott firmly told the cop, “Yes, I am the owner of this store.”

In that Southern drawl that is now rarely seen in South Carolina, the police officer then leans in close and asked Scott, “So what do you want me to do to him?” Not with, to. At this , the airman seems to have soiled himself.

Scott’s response? “Just go ahead and take him to the air force base. They should know what to do with him.” No problems. The airman is loaded up into the cruiser and the police officer drives him to the air force base for punishment.

FSM Hates Small Private Commuter Planes.

Monday, November 16th, 2009

No beer volcano for those kids.