Archive for the ‘Guest Story’ Category

As anyone can tell you, clinic tower guard can be long and boring. Especially when you are with a moron. Even worse, viagra when you are with a moron for 24 hours straight.

Let me tell you a little about PVT Johnson. PVT Johnson was not all there. Before we deployed, drugs I had CQ (Charge of Quarters, essentially making sure things were relatively quiet in the barracks), and walked upstairs to find PVT Johnson staring at the television in the day room, laughing his ass off.

I walked over to find out what was so funny, and there he is, staring at a blank TV set. There was nothing on, there was no picture; the damned thing wasn’t even turned on. But there he is, almost in tears over something that was only playing in his head.

Come to find out the damn thing wasn’t even plugged in.

(more…)

Follow

Let me tell you a little bit about my old HHC commander. He was by all means a Renaissance Man, a Tom Hanks from Saving Private Ryan type character, but his unfortunate lot in life was not to command Rangers, but to command an HHC (Headquarters and Headquarters Company), usually full of staff officers and NCO’s and some support people.

In order to preserve his own sense of honor, to lead by example, and to keep from getting bored he would volunteer to do just about anything to get outside the wire, no matter how dangerous the mission. He would harass me about missions, and remind me every time that I had an open position on a dangerous mission that he was available.

(more…)

Follow

When I first started this job, it was a calling. Something I felt I needed to do for myself. I was lacking direction and unsure of what I wanted to do. Perhaps that is the reason I turned it into a calling, I don’t know. Now, almost 12 years later, it has become nothing more than a job. A big, contracted, corporate job. We used to be a family (in my eyes), now we are just a bunch of disgruntled people showing up every morning. I’m not going to lie; the Army has a lot of good points to it. I am in better shape than 90% of the civilians I know. I do a job that has the respect and admiration of millions. I have traveled to places I would never get to see any other way in my life. It got me out of the house, got me my first suit, and allowed me to find my own place in life.

(more…)

Follow

This past August, I had the film-geeky pleasure of working on my first legitimate television or film property; I mean “legitimate” in that we had a real crew of professionals, near-top-notch equipment, had casting sessions, etc. I was personally involved from pre-production (casting, script reviews, etc.) on through the final day of shooting (when I touch film editing programs, computers stop liking me).

The project is a webseries called “Issues: The Series”, and the first episode debuted on January 7th of this New Year. The director, Scott Napolitano, is a high school buddy of mine who brought this idea to fruition in the wildly successful wake of other webseries such as “The Guild” and “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog”. The basic premise surrounds the customers and employees of a NJ comic shop. We tried to create an image of a comic book fan (or “bookie” as we call them) that wasn’t the Comic Book Nerd from the Simpsons, as funny as that stereotype was. The cast and crew are mostly comic fans ourselves in one way or another, so this was a labor of love and an expression of our interests coming together.

(more…)

Follow

Skippy, erectile I know you are aware of what/how we did back then and so do most of your readers.  But for the uninformed, ampoule let me provide a little background on the significance of this list.

As an enlisted MP, anabolics I was stationed in West Germany in the early 1980’s.  Like many other MP units, we were tasked with guarding munitions storage sites that contained “items vital to national security”, or very, very big bombs.  The ones that form mushroom clouds when they go off.

These storage sites were surrounded by a double fence and razor wire.  We were authorized to shoot anyone who breached the outer fence.  Typically each corner of the site had a tall tower in which an MP stood guard for hours at a time.  The main tower contained the one guard and a supervisor or, Commander of the Relief (COR).  Each tower had a telephone and a tactical radio for communication.

(more…)

Follow

I’m starting my career as an advice columnist on Craigslist. See what you think….

Does time of day matter when dropping a note through someone’s mail slot? 01/04 21:15:06

I wrote 2 notes for my noisy neighbors. At first I considered talking to them, and almost drummed up the courage tonight. But I was tired and not in the mood to be friendly. With the other neighbors, I see the family sporadically and they seem friendly face to face so I don’t want to tarnish the respect. That’s why I’d rather use the note method of communication.

(more…)

Follow

Ok so I am not exactly in the military. Actually, I am a spouse… living in base housing. This particular blog is about last spring. Right now, my yardcare sins involve not being able to shovel the 5 foot snow pile that the snowplow drivers so graciously left at the end of my driveway when the temps reach -40. I can’t find my sidewalk to shovel it. They should just be happy that I cleared the driveway.

Here we are at yet another spring on Minot AFB and with it comes what we all in housing have dubbed the “Lawn Nazi’s”. These are the men and women who drive around base housing in the white trucks with rulers ensuring that no lawn exceeds 1 1/2 inches in height and that lawns themselves look nice. This means absolutely no WEEDS! EVER! I know this one from experience. Several times last year, I pulled up to my house to find a little white ticket taped to my front door with a list of my lawn “sins” checked off and little recommendations circled at the bottom telling me that grass seed, fertilizer, and weed killer were available at the self help store. Condescending bastards.

Before we move on, I should tell you, the condition of my lawn was less than perfect when I moved into the house the previous winter. Actually, one could go so far as to say it was a disaster, with the only things green or growing being one pathetic bush with three leaves on it. Moving on. I went to the self help store and received my allocated 6 oz bag of grass seed intended for my 1600 sq foot lawn, my 1lb bag of fertilizer and my 1lb bag of weed killer, all of which I dutifully put on my lawn while thinking to myself, “who the hell do they think they are kidding?” I waited. I watered. The only thing that grew was more weeds! What the hell! So I pulled the weeds and watered some more. The grass died. From out of no where, more weeds grew. I received my second ticket for weeds, and another note at the bottom saying that weed killer was available at the self help store. I went back to the self help store, a little irate, because it seems they mistakenly must have given me, not grass seed and fertilizer but dandelion seed and fertilizer. They tell me that I can’t have any more because they already gave me my allocated amount. I throw the balled up ticket at them and storm out. Now, I have to waste my own money on weed killer. So, I do. I buy all kinds of weed killer. I get the stuff that says it kills weeds but not lawns, guaranteed. I think I heard the weeds laugh at me. Then I get the stuff that says it kills everything including grass and weeds. It kills the grass in a two foot radius around every weed. The weeds are now two feet tall each. I try to pull the weeds up by the roots. They come back stronger, taller, and more numerous than ever before. I cry, plead, cajole, and beg the weeds to go bother someone else. Eventually, I pour gasoline on each weed and set them on fire.

The weeds came back. They are everywhere!

Nothing works on these things! They have a mind of their own. I swear I just watched one eat my neighbors cat. They are now as tall as I am, while all the grass that had been surrounding them has withered and died.

Oh, hell there’s another white ticket on my door! This time, in addition to the weeds, they are yelling at me because the grass has died. Their suggestion is to water it. Instead, I watered my neighbors lawns with total vegetation killer. Now all of our lawns look the same. Ha ha! Take that housing maintenance.

I have started an army of killer dandelions! I will overrun the base, nay, the world!!

Follow

I’m sure the news article probably caught many readers’ eyes today: “Deep Throat”, anabolics the informant who helped bring down the Nixon Presidency, has passed away. Some lauded him as a hero who proved one man can make a difference even against the most menacing of would-be dictators. Some scorned him as a turncoat who betrayed his Commander-in-Chief. Some, like those of my generation, remember him as a stupid footnote in history that made us get a B+ instead of an A- on our American History midterm. Regardless of your opinion of his actions, you have to have respect for the ability of the man to keep a secret. No one knew his true identity for decades, despite books and movie about his role in history that he surely could have cashed in on.

While all the major news outlets covered the story, I found the write up by BBC News, found here, to be the most interesting. Mainly because of this single line “…Deep Throat – named after a popular pornographic movie of the time…” It wasn’t until today, despite knowing about the man for many years, that I learned that somebody thought it’d be a great joke to name the informant bringing down one of the most up-tight men in history with what was essentially a dirty joke. I admit, I giggled a little bit when I thought about it.

So thank you Deep Throat, and rest in peace. I for one cannot wait until someone follows in your footsteps and brings down another prominent politician, someone named “Two girls one cup”.

Follow

So the other day I was talking about boobies with some associates of mine.

I find boobies to be somewhat enigmatic… they’re like… well, have you ever seen an artificial hill?  Often when a landfill’s reached its capacity, a municipality will cover it in a large plastic shield and then put earth and grass on top.  Sometimes they turn these suckers into parks or golf courses or sometimes they just leave ’em for us to look at.  Boobies are like that.  Not in that they’re both aesthetically pleasing or potentially functional, but in that it’s like just a heap of shit under a nipple and some soft flesh.  And yet, we men are drawn to them.  Little ones, big ones, gargantuan ones, novelty ones; innies, outies, roundabouts; for every kind of boobie there’s an eager fellow itchin’ for a squeeze.

And it seems to me women just don’t really think all that much about their lady-berries.  Sure they try to buy clothes that make them look pronounced, they’ll stuff their bras with tissues, they’ll pay thousands of dollars to get silicone sacks stuffed into their chests.  But to most, I believe, that stuff’s no different than how we men shave our beards or cut our hair.  It doesn’t really matter to us, we just adhere to a certain aesthetic because we think looking decent will make women want to talk to us.  We don’t care about our hair like we care about our dicks.  To the ladies, their boobies are like a special elbow or a really mushy chin, just another body part that only matters because we like it so much.

Another thing about women that I was lecturing a young fan of the site about: their bodies are like giant penises.  You could say they’re made entirely of Guitar Hero dick flesh–only the buttons aren’t as colorful and the game tends to be more frustrating.  The DLC costs a fuckton too.  But they’re compatible with a huge range of peripherals so you don’t have to worry about buying different controllers for different versions.  Not like that Rockband/Guitar Hero bullshit.  There are some cheat codes, but you could save a whole lot of a time buy simply investing in a GameShark-equivalent.

I think I ought to teach high school sex ed…

Polkster has his own site, and if you click here it will make him squeal with delight.

Follow

You know how some kids have imaginary friends? They are their best friends in the world who they communicate with, and are almost real for them.

My 7 year-old daughter, who you may or may not remember told off a hot woman who was hitting on me, does not have imaginary friends.

She has an imaginary corporation, with imaginary stock holders, an imaginary board of directors, of which she is the CEO, and a janitorial staff, who is contracted through a temp agency of course.

I found out about her corporate undertakings when walking past her room last weekend and overheard her yelling at her assistant over an old bluetooth earpiece. She finished her imaginary conversation with, “if this merger fails to go through, so help me God, I will fire you and have the daycare center withhold your children from you.” I’m not sure what impresses me more, her ruthlessness or that her imaginary corporate offices has an imaginary daycare center.

I asked her about her company and she read me her mission statement (She didn’t know what the hell a mission statement was, but she had one). She then went on to explain to me about the ethical dilemma that she was having with her IT guy, Bill, because he’s an alcoholic, with whom she’s smelled booze on his breath on more than one occasion, but he works for peanuts and is very competent. She said that she was okay with overlooking it, but lately he’s been hitting on her up-and-coming protege, Emily, and Emily isn’t very receptive to this sort of treatment.

My sweet daughter went on to tell me that she has taken to hiring a former Superbowl player, whose name she cannot release at this time due to contractual obligations, to do motivational speaking for her company.

She doesn’t watch adult TV shows, she has limited use of the internet, and I have no idea where the heck she comes up with this stuff, except that I was the same damn way when I was 7, and I’ve only been a two weekend a month, every other holiday and 60% of the summertime dad, when not deployed. Her mother has no clue either, and her dumbass couldn’t cultivate this in our daughter, so this is, in addition to being pretty funny, wierd as hell.

Follow