I'm a Star!

Apparently I was on the news. Since I'm fat, I was on the news for eating and watching TV. My mom taped it. This is a great source of pride for me, and I look forward to showing my kids the days when I was only a little fat, because I was only eating 3 meals a day. Hooray for the TV!

Car Bomb

Well, today we didn't go on our mission, because our mission was kinda close to a car bomb site frim earlier in the morning. So we got to be the first Americans on the site and take a bunch of pictures and interview a bunch of people, all of whom had had all their windows blown out, fences destroyed, car parts in their yards, glass everywhere. I was walking ahead of everyone. I don't know why. I guess I was just taken in by everything, having not seen anything like it firsthand. I heard somebody say over the radio that there were no signs of any victims or anything, just car parts. That's how I knew they had all fallen pretty far behind me, because I was looking at what appeared to be the majority of a torso, and there were chunks of perpetrator everywhere. This wasn't disturbing like the goat sacrifice. This was almost a little gratifying. I mean, it turns out this terrorist had put 4 prople in the hospital, NOT including the target, who was perfectly alright because his vehicle has armor. (speaking of armor, we just got a brand new humvee with more armor and a better turret and more comfortable seats, so I'm real happy and the gunner is loving life, plus now my door opens from the inside because it isn't all busted up) So there's a car, the front half and back half a good 40 or 50 meters apart, with no usable parts (as though I know what to do with usable car parts? Take it to a mechanic, that's what you do!), a brick wall that is somehow missing a good 10 meter section, 6 cars that are gonna be in the shop for a year, probably 5 or 7 houses with no windows and half the doors they started with (blown off the hinges - outwardly?) and pieces of terrorist scattered for at least 100 meter radius. That's radius, not diameter. Yeah. Messy. Pretty inconsiderate of him. Put 4 people in the hospital.

Dr. Raven

Yo. I decided to look at my profile (because my profile is starting to be much more pear shaped) and I saw that I like Edict, which I had almost forgotten. So I clicked the link to see who else likes Edict and I found my friend, Dr. Raven, and decided to visit his site. So I was cruising around Dr. Raven's blogs and found that he had killed Lindsey Lohan with some Bling Bling, and I decided I should see who I am destined to kill. As it turns out, I was first destined to kill Ashley Simpson, but that didn't seem like a nice thing to do. So I went by an alias and was then to run over Nick and Jessica with a Subaru, and they are still newlyweds, so that can wait until things cool off. When my stars realigned, it looked much more reasonable, and now I will be killing someone who has earned a horrible death time and time again. I found it amusing, and if you want to, you can see who will perish by your own hand. It's really amusing, for those of us that are violent! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Stupid Celebrity Death Quiz

What stupid celebrity are you destined to kill? by daydreamer8852
Name
Birthdate
You killed
With a
On	December 17, 2011
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Again

Well, lucky me. Time to get bronchitis again. Fortunately, I have a medic who is willing to hook me up with a whole bunch of drugs. HOORAY!!!

Productivity!

So, today was about the most productive I've felt since I got here. We went to a gas station, which is nototriously congested and almost impossible to maneuver around in. It was guarded by Iraqi Police, and the gossip was that they were charging admission and taking bribes to move people to the front of the line, which is usually several city blocks long. There is no order really anywhere around here, so we went in, seperated everybody and asked individuals who was doing all the dirty deeds, without anybody listening. Including me. So I don't know. But then we strung up some razor wire to seperate the lines for Kerosene, and we put a search team at the entrance to the station, so there's somebody there going through people's trunks and stuff, just in case some suicide bomber decides to get fuel in a car bomb at the last minute. By the time we left, it looked like a gas station in Albany. If the guards and workers they have can run it the way we showed them, that should solve a lot of fueling problems. And while we were there, they sacrificed a goat, which I guess is a good thing? I turned away for the initial cut, because I'm not that desensitized yet, but the rest was like watching a cooking show. Except when he broke the feet off to finish skinning it. That sounded eerie. And when he inflated it (via a hole in the leg) in order to seperate the skin from the feet. Never see that on a cooking show. Inflated goat ala bloody pavement. So now I've seen another tradition, and I'm cultured, like cottage cheese. And it answered our little question about the bloody handprints on people's cars. They dipped their hands in the goat's blood and slapped it on the cars for luck. I think this is a good place for a question mark:? Then we kinda ran over some old guy on our way home, so I got to be a human traffic cone, guiding vehicles around our convoy while the medic made the dude all better - right there in the median. So that was cool. Now I'm home, and I missed breakfast and lunch, but that's ok because I have lots of emails to respond to, which is fun. And then when I go back I can get made fun of for never seeing an animal skinned and gutted before. Looking forward to that. I LOVE IT WHEN THEY CALL ME A HIPPIE!!!

Chow

The other day we were all sitting in the chow hall, listening to the tv, and what the tv said is that another chow hall had been attacked and it sucked for a lot of people, and they described the chow hall, which sounded a lot like ours. We all believe the tv, so we all laughed nervously. Later that evening, the order was put out that all the body armor we'd ever been issued was to be worn while eating in the chow hall, up to and including SAFETY GOGGLES! Needless to say, we are all getting to go plates from now on. Thanks a lot, silly terrorists!

Grandma Helen Passed Away

Helen Cox Dickinson 1924-2004

Helen Cox Dickinson passed away early in the morning on Friday, December 17th, after a long battle with Chronic Lymphocytic Lymphoma (CLL) and other recent challenges to her health.

Helen taught English Literature, Composition, and Creative Writing at Portland Community, retiring in 1983. She was a charter member of the PCC Faculty Federation until her appointment as Department Chair. Prior to her appointment at PCC she taught at David Douglas High School.

She was valedictorian on graduating from Klamath Union High School, graduated with Magna Cum Laude honors at Pacific University, and received her M.A. from Reed College with a thesis on existential literature.

She published a chapbook of poems, “A Blanket Pardon” with Doris Avshalomov’s Howlett Press in 1983, individual poems in a variety of local and regional journals, and presented public readings at several sessions of the Portland Poetry Festival as well as other occasions.

Helen is survived by her sister Mary Cox of Longview WA, her children Steve Myers of Portland, Leslie Myers of Gladstone, and Jim Myers of Newport-South Beach. Her grandchildren are Will Myers of West Linn, Halea Vice of Portland, Mark Myers of Gladstone, Jesse Myers with the Oregon National Guard in Iraq, and Carissa Myers of Scio. Her great-granddaughter is Eleanor Vice of Portland. She is also survived by former husbands Dr. Gordon Myers of Portland and Gordon Dickinson of West Linn.

Now I Leave You To Your...Moosey Fate!!!

Ok, nothing to do with the best modern art site of my generation (www.explodingdog.com), but rather to do with a dog who was playing with fire. His mother should have taught him better. See, all trash is burned here in the giant catbox we refer to as hell. (By the way, the pond froze this week, so apparently hell has frozen over)These fires attract hungry animals. These hungry animals then chase each other away from the burning trash, because it should be THEIR burning trash. But when the burning trash is just too appealing to be chased away from, sometimes the trash itself has to lash out in self defense, usually in the form of exploding batteries. Next time you have a BBQ, throw in some batteries. The guests will wet themselves, and the dogs will probably wag their tails and fight over the meat. Meanwhile, some mutant of a canine that looked remarkably like a fox, only grey, and ugly, and stupid, decided to mark a carcass so nobody would steal it. (Ha Ha, eat my dead dog now...NOW THAT I PEED ON IT!) Meanwhile, idiots forget to turn on the lights on the helipad, and helicopter pilots think they can land when they can't see, which 'bout kills soldiers on the ground on their way to the latrines. NOT FUNNY. Chopper dude nearly knocked his propellers off on a semi that he didn't see. A SEMI THAT HE DIDN'T SEE! And everybody says that infantrymen are stupid. On the other hand, I never thought Marilyn Monroe was attractive. So what do I know? Well, I'll tell you. I know a lot more now that I've seen the Seven Year Itch. I would like to now retract all previous statements about Marilyn Monroe and replace them with this statement: "Wow." So pictures still aren't that great, but this movie was awesome, and she was hilarious, and for a classic, it's a keeper. Note: Monroe could never pull off being a Bond girl, as she took 40 takes to remember lines about the Creature from the Black Lagoon, but if she's playing an idiot, she's got skill. So for 25 bucks, I might have to pick up a 7 disc box set and see if the rest of them are worth seeing. Or maybe we will continue watching them as a platoon. Also worth noting: We just unloaded a 5 ton pickup full of mail. Boxes. The letters were seperate. The truck was loaded about 5 feet high, and I'd venture to guess the bed is about 6x10 feet. I snuck out before the second truck, and that is just for my company. So I am hoping to have mail when I get back. It will be a bill for my restraining order.

I Have a Mighty Need to Use the Restroom Once Again!

So today on guard duty I saw a Ferret - I say again: A FERRET- in my sector, trying to maneuver its way through the wire. I was later corrected, in that a ferret's natural habitat is indeed not hell, and this is a mongoose, which is larger and dark brown. I suppose it's possible.

I also discovered that when it is really cold and one is to urinate in an enclosed area, the steam from said urine does indeed have a potent odor, and in some instances a flavor which is almost undesirable enough to hold it for five hours. When I get home I will be marketing flavored steam as an alternative to popcorn.

How Copy?

THINGS TO BURN:

so this morning it was cold. horribly cold. a little history: we are not allowed to have heaters in our towers when on guard duty. this is perhaps due to fire hazards. apparently, somebody thinks that the wood in our towers is burnable. this is an assumption, and you should never assume anything without evidence. we have tried burning that wood to stay warm, and it just doesn't work at all. it is magic fireproof wood. the rest of the tower is made of steel and sandbags, which also evade ignition. because we are sometimes monitored on the radios, soldiers often voice their complaints in humorous ways as a means to stay awake. this time, the discussion was on starting fires in the towers. there are a lot of things that one can burn in a tower. some of the things which were recommended as burnables are the buttstocks of the machine guns we haul up there, our boots (keeps the toes warm), and reinlistment papers. For those more dedicated, one could dismantle ammunition and sandbags and exchange the sand for the gunpowder, that way the sandbags would burn and the ammo wouldn't seem light. do not, however, burn the porta-potty. the blue water makes funny smoke and gives away your position.

Waiting for the Skin to Grow Back on my Eyeballs!

Ha Ha! I get to see the sunrise before you do! Neiner Neiner! Course, I'm usually up for 5 hours watching the sand in the dark before the sun comes up, but when it does, I can see the sand real good!

Reason #637 Why I Don't Drink:

Someone shared a story over the radios that has further convinced me of why I don't drink. Two days later I have finally finished laughing (Maybe not) and have regained the energy to type.

This sergeant and his buddy were out drinking, because that's what they do. A lot. Then his buddy returns from the bathroom - VERY QUICKLY - grabs him by the arm and pulls him outside to escape the wrath. As the story is told, there happened to be a man on the toilet which "Puking Buddy" was puking in, so the vomit stopped abruptly in the victim's lap. When Puking Buddy figured this out and saw the man's look of shock morph into a look of rage, the only solution that came to mind (I'm laughing again) is to punch "Puke Lap" in the face. So you are in a bar, on the throne, making room for more pretzels, and suddenly the stall door swings open and someone is throwing up in your lap. Then this someone looks up at you, confused, and punches you in the face. What do you do? What do you do?

New Rule:

So, there's a new rule made especially for me. A little background: We have shifts that are several hours long more than once a day, and during these shifts, we are not alowed to read or write or listen to music or eat or move around or anything, but we are alowed to discuss most topics on the radio, anything not a security risk. Except for me. If I talk, and it is not information vital to the other towers, I get to do twenty crunches. The first night of this new rule, I managed to not talk unless people were shooting. The next two shifts however, I managed to accumulate 600 crunches, mostly from pointing out the fact that this was completely unmerited. I am supposed to pay those off today, but not to the sergeant who made the rule. No, I get to pay them off to this whiney little jerk. When I first showed up here, I thought this guy was pretty worthless, and that opinion was enforced by everyone else's statements about him and all the arguments he starts with everyone on the radio. But not only is he allowed to talk as much as he wants about how stupid Americans are because they reelected Bush and they all eat fast food and they think religion is a reason to vote and GO BEAVERS and how cool his Frat house is and how he gets chicks into bed and his girlfriend will never find out and how stupid the army is and how people need to work out with him and how he's an animal lover but possums aren't animals so he beat one to death with a broom handle (cat person) and how his statistics are valid but everyone else's are made up on the spot and EVERY WORD OUT OF THIS GUY'S MOUTH MAKES ME WANT TO GO HOME! So not only can he say all these things, but if I say anything back, or anything to anybody at all, I owe him another 20 crunches. And all because I'm new here, and that makes me a lesser person and not worthy of joining conversations. Yeah. Next time they desperately need volunteers, they can continue needing.

CHRISTMAS WITH THE TANKS

I am trying to figure out what to mail home, what to carry home, and what to leave for the 82nd Airborne and the 3rd Infantry Division. I'm thinking I will leave behind several pounds of powdered beverages that I asked for. Kinda cut back on the fluid intake when it cooled off. I'll take some along with me to Ft. Lewis, but probably leave the majority. Some people (such as Christina and the Mom) are trying to organize a seperate Christmas celebration for me a little later than the norm, though I don't think I'm missing anything but the company. Well, I have my own "company," so to speak. We've got fake Christmas trees and real cookies, and people are sending decorations and stuff. But for gifts, I really gotta strip down my luggage as it is. I'm only allowed so much, and the rest is too bad for me.
Well, not much is new. I just sit in a tower and watch the traffic to see if they shoot rockets at me, and if they do, I might get to shoot back. Things are winding down, but also getting wound up. We are nearing the end of combat operations (our battalion, not our country)and the insurgents are finally discovering teamwork, so all these seperate groups who have been attacking us and failing miserably (ok, gotta share this: A car bomb hits an American convoy, killing a US soldier, and the car bomb was carrying FOUR terrorists!), and now they are all meeting together for the common goal of killing us, so it could get ugly. We're anticipating ugliness.
Take care, and keep sending those prayers.

The Christmas Poem

>Twas the Night Before Christmas
>He lived all alone,
>In a One Bedroom House
>Made of Plaster and Stone
>I had come down the Chimney
>With Presents to Give,
>And to see just who In this Home did live.
>I looked All About,
>A strange Sign did I see,
>No Tinsel. No Presents.
>Not even a Tree.
>No stocking by Mantle,
>Just boots filled with sand.
>On the wall hung a picture
>Of far distant lands.
>With Medals and Badges,
>Awards of all Kinds
>A sober thought
>Came through my mind.
>For This House was different
>It was dark and dreary
>I found the Home of a Soldier
>Once I could see Clearly.
>The Soldier Lay Sleeping
>Silent, Alone
>Curled up on the floor
>Of this One Bedroom Home.
>The face was so Gentle
>The room in such Disorder
>Not how I pictured
>A United States Soldier.
>Was This The Hero
>Of Whom I Just Read?
>Curled up on A Poncho
>The floor for a bed?
>I realized the Families
>That I saw This Night,
>Owed Their Lives to These Soldiers
>Who were willing to fight.
>Soon Round the World,
>The Children Would Play,
>And Grown-ups would Celebrate
>A Bright Christmas Day.
>They all enjoyed Freedom
>Each month of the Year.
>Because of the Soldiers
>Like the one lying here.
>I couldn't help wonder
>How many lay alone,
>On a cold Christmas Eve
>In a land far from Home.
>The very thought
>Brought a tear to My eye,
>I dropped to my knees,
>and I started to Cry.
>The Soldier awakened
>And I heard A rough voice,
>Santa don't cry,
>This Life is my Choice.
>I fight for Freedom,
>I don't Ask for More,
>My life is My God,
>My Country, My Corps.
>The Soldier rolled over,
>And drifted to sleep,
>I couldn't Control it,
>I continued to weep.
>I Kept watch for hours,
>So silent and still.
>And we both shivered
>From The cold night's chill.
>I didn't want to leave
>On that cold, dark night,
>This Guardian of Honor
>So willing to fight.
>Then the Soldier rolled over,
>With a voice soft and pure,
>Whispered "Carry on Santa,
>It's Christmas Day, All is Secure."
>One look at my watch,
>And I knew he was right.
>"Merry Christmas My Friend,
>And To All A Good Night."

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Bill, Hillary and Kerry are flying on Kerry's wife's private jet.
Bill looks at Hillary, chuckles and says, "You know, I could throw a $100.00 bill out the window right now and make somebody very happy."
Hillary shrugs her shoulders and says, "Well, I could throw ten $10.00 bills out the window and make 10 people very happy."
Kerry says, "Of course then, I could throw one-hundred $1.00 bills out the window and make a hundred people very happy."
The pilot rolls his eyes, looks at all of them and says to his co-pilot, "Such Bigshots back there..... I could throw all of them out the window and make millions happy."

USRSF

The Pentagon announced today the formation of a elite fighting group called the U. S. Redneck Special Forces (U.S.R.S.F.).


Bubba, Hoss, Cooter, and Boo will be dropped behind enemy lines with the following information about the Iraqis fighting with and including the Insurgents.


1. The season opened last weekend.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken.
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music or Jesus
5. Some is queer.
6. They are directly responsible for the death of Dale Earnhardt.


It's thought that the war should be over in a week.

moosey fate

i saw a bunch of puppies today and it made me want to go running with my dog, but i am again without a dog. i used to go running around the block with nikita. well, i would run one side, walk the next, run the next, and i was always telling her what the plan was, like, hey, we gonna go to this next corner, take a left, and jog, ok? and she was like, sounds good, daddy! and then i would start running and she would try to slide tackle me, like my ankles suddenly needed to be eaten or something. but as long as i could keep her a little distance away from me, i would stay primarily vertical. anyway, here they don't try to keep dogs and cats much. they are mostly strays, from what i can observe. animals that they want to keep live on the roof. i've seen some good looking dogs on peoples' rooves, and the occasional goat. today, next to the litter of puppies playing in the yard, there was a goat on the roof, eating chicken wire that was around what appeared to be a little shed. i don't know if the shed was his or if it served some roof-access purpose so they could come up and feed it. but i had a feeling that this particular family did not hang laundry on the roof, unless they were that desperate to feed their goat. it had big, floppy ears, and that was cool. that's obviously very important. can you tell my priorities are awesome?

One Nation Under God

A college professor, an avowed Atheist, was teaching his class. He shocked several of his students when he flatly stated that there is no God, the expression, "One Nation Under God", was unconstitutional, and further, he was going to prove there is no God. Addressing the ceiling he shouted: "God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I'll give you 15 minutes!" The lecture room fell silent. You could have heard a pin fall. Ten minutes went by. Again he taunted God, saying, "Here I am, God. I'm still waiting." His countdown got down to the last couple of minutes when a Marine just released from active duty and newly registered in the class walked up to the professor, hit him full force in the face, and sent him flying from his lofty platform. The professor was out cold! At first the students were shocked and babbled in confusion. The young Marine took a seat in the front row and sat silent. The class fell silent...waiting. Eventually, the professor came to, shaken. He looked at the young Marine in the front row. When he regained his senses and could speak he yelled, "What's the matter with you? Why did you do that?" "God was busy. He sent me."