Operation: WTF (Day 275)

It’s All So Clear Now

“I have no idea what any of this means. I’m just signing it because someone ordered me to.”

I haven’t been back in this shit pit for 48 seconds and already I want to punch myself in the face.  I thought my high from R&R would last at least a few days, keep me in better spirits but I see it wasn’t a powerful enough drug.  Truthfully, it was more hassle than it was worth.  I did have a good time but the military can suck the life out of everything.  If there’s ever a next time, and I’m hoping there never will be, I probably won’t bother.

At any rate, I have discovered the essence of the culture of the Army.  I now understand why Soldiers do not speak up when they see something wrong.  I think I get why we fail at preventing suicide and sexual assault, and why so many Soldiers do stupid things like piss on dead bodies.  Let me caveat by saying that to my knowledge none of these incidences have occurred in this unit.  In fact, I’d be the very last person to know about any major problems, I’m simply trying to point out a few home truths.

“I wouldn’t say anything. Problems usually go away if you just ignore them.”

I think Soldiers of any rank don’t bother pointing out things that are wrong because it’s almost a guarantee that no one will listen, no one will care or that someone who thinks they are smarter will rebut the obvious with something less obvious.  Why report sexual assault up the chain of concern when the NCO above you will try his best to convince you that you were not sexually assaulted, that you just misunderstood the situation.  Why report your battle buddy is suicidal when your next line supervisor will say, “Oh, he’s always like that.”  Forget about the fact that you can witness with your own eyes that something is dreadfully wrong.

I think a lot of NCOs think they are somehow geniuses just because they have reached the rank of Sergeant or higher.  The Soldiers below them are led to believe that anyone with some stripes is somehow smarter than them and knows everything.  No, this is not true.  Many NCOs are just good at playing the game.  They know how to show up in the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform.  There is nothing special about that.  This is basic.  As long as you do what you are told, you will get promoted, and as a senior NCO once told me, “Rarely will an NCO be removed from his position due to incompetence.”

That is because paperwork is required and another NCO has to be the one to do the paperwork.  If they are both rock-heads, who is going to be the one to figure it out?

Soldiers are supposed to be able to go to their NCOs with any issues.  The NCO may not have all the answers, but what makes him a good NCO is that they are able to find out where they can get the answers.  They don’t stop until that Soldier’s issue has been resolved.  At least, that is my opinion of a good NCO.  That NCO should also realise that just because they came up with a solution or a decision, it doesn’t mean that it’s the RIGHT one.  I think this is a big problem.  It’s like, thanks for applying some thought, but we need follow through.  And this is where another NCO or Soldier will point out inconsistencies and errors, but that first NCO is having none of it.

Big Sarge said that since Osama bin Laden is dead, we don’t really have to patrol anymore. Everything’s cool.

He came up with a decision and everybody should rock with it, regardless.  Forget about if it’s unsafe, illegal, stupid, dangerous, etc.  That NCO is proud of whatever he came up with and if you don’t like, eat it.  I think some NCOs feel like if you question their decision you are questioning their authority.  This is not always the case.  Questioning authority does not have a place in the military but questioning illogical, unsafe, stupid, dangerous and illegal decisions in the appropriate manner should be encouraged.  We should not be a society of idiots following idiots, scared to say anything because they don’t want to be That Guy.

Look where that has gotten us.  Extremely high suicides and suicide attempts.  Extremely high occurrences of sexual assault and sexual harassment.  Occurrences of fraud, waste and abuse of government equipment and funds.  Young Soldiers following NCOs to their detriment, like pissing on bodies, Abu Ghraib and the NCO who allegedly shot up the village in Afghanistan.

On 1 June, I will have been an NCO for one year.  I have made a lot of mistakes, but thankfully none of them were illegal, unsafe or dangerous.  Most of my mistakes were stupid and most of them have only involved myself, and not other Soldiers.  I do have good examples of NCOs above me, but I think I have more bad examples.  I feel like I am smart enough to wade through the bullshit, to decipher what is good and what is not, but not everybody is.  There are a lot of us new Sergeants, but not all of us is able to figure it out.  Some of them just follow the person above them, whether they are a good example or not.

I’ve been in the Army 8 years and I have 10 credits at the local community college. Just do what I say and we’ll be all right.

But what I have also seen in my short time as an NCO, is that I am discouraged from making too many waves.  I will grant that sometimes my approach is not the best, but most of the time it’s the sake of even asking the question.  “Don’t ask too many questions.”  “You’re making too much sense.”  “Don’t ask why.”  “Just do it.”  “This is the Army.  It’s not supposed to be logical.”

But why?  Why does it have to be that way?  The American Army is the best trained, best equipped, best funded army in the whole wide world.  Why should we not also be the smartest?  Because we lack common sense and critical thinking skills.  In all the leadership courses and classes and crap I’ve been to since joining the Army, not one of these classes has addressed critical thinking skills.

Ever.

Why does no one see this as a problem?

50 Things Real Adults Do That I Don’t Do

I borrowed this from one Ms. Johanna de Silentio.  I found it on a friend’s Facebook page.  Out of boredom I started reading it and then I died laughing because it was just so moronic.  I am not sure how this woman came up with this list–if it came from her own delusions or from someone else’s.  Usually I like lists of things, but this one was pretty sad.  Since I do not have anything better to do with my time and not classified as a “real adult,” and this was the stupidest things I have ever read, I present you with my response.

 

  1. Make their bed.   Adults make their beds, but Johanna de Silentio doesn’t.  Where I come from, children are taught to make their beds and hopefully, if the parents were any good, this is something that follow the child into adulthood.  I guess if you don’t like to make your bed you are not an adult.
  2. Own a pet or a child.  I was not aware that it had become legal to own children.  Regardless, I don’t have either and don’t have any plans to do so.  I guess that means I will never grow up.
  3. Have a stress-free conversation with the mechanic.  Do children typically have conversations with mechanics?  Usually, owning a car and taking care of it is a very adult thing.  If the mechanic tells you your vehicle needs an engine overhaul I can see how that would be very stressful.  But not if you’re a real adult.  If you’re a real adult, you can just plunk down thousands of dollars without stress or concern for your other household bills and obligations.
  4. Have more than one set of sheets.  What if you are a very frugal adult?  Or what if this is all you can afford?  I guess you’re not a real adult.
  5. sAvInGs aCcOuNt.  This is exactly as it was written by Johanna (sans the bold and underline).  She is definitely letting us know that she is not a real adult with this up and down style of writing that is usually found on teenage Facebook accounts.  I had a savings account at age 10.  I was already exhibiting the maturity of a real adult at that time, even though I still played with Barbie.
  6. Wear jewelry.  Since my current profession does not allow for the wearing of jewelry, I guess I am not a real adult.
  7. Decorate their homes for holidays.  I do not typically celebrate the holidays and there are a number of adult Americans that don’t either.  Therefore, they are not real adults.
  8. Remember birthdays.  Johanna did not specify whose birthday a real adult would remember, their own, or other real adults?  What if they are Jehovah’s Witness or Amish and do not place any special significance on birthdays?  Can they not be real adults in this case?
  9. Know what they are going to eat for a meal more than 5 minutes out.  There have been many occasions where I could not figure out what I wanted to eat.  Sometimes my friends and I are at a loss in making a decision.  I guess we have not matured enough into creating a yearly menu that we could follow so that we always know what we are to eat more than five minutes prior.
  10. Pack lunches.  This is another vague stipulation to real adulthood.  Pack lunches for who?  The children that I should own?  Or pack my own lunch or for other real adults?  I suppose I am being facetious and I am sure that Johanna meant real adults pack their lunches for work.  Being single, I find this often unsatisfying, inconvenient and sometimes more expensive than it should be.  In order to be seen as an adult, I should pack an unnecessary lunch.
  11. Stay in hotels on vacation instead of your friend’s cool floor.  After my stress-free conversation with the mechanic, I find that I can no longer afford a hotel or a vacation, so I am much obliged if a friend of mine allows me to crash at her place.  Most people do prefer their own accommodations but I do not know any real adults that would balk at an opportunity for anything free, especially in these trying economical times.
  12. Watch TV news.  Despite the fact that Johanna has professed that she is not a real adult, I believe she may have been born somewhere in the 50s.  The TV is a great way to catch up on news, but it is 2012 and in these fascinating modern times, real adults are able to get the news via any number of media outlets.  But since real adults watch news, I am still a wayward child if I should glance at a newspaper every now and again, or God forbid, read the news on a news website.
  13. Networking.  This is one I will grant Johanna.  This is a skill that comes naturally to few people.  The rest of us have to grow into it, and that does come from experience and maturity.  So far, Johanna, you’ve got one.  I’ll give you that.
  14. Have a landline.  Okay, really?  The only people I know with landlines are the idiots who have “bundled” cable packages.  They thought they were saving money by buying something most of them don’t need or even use.  For me, a landline was a total waste of money because I was never home enough to use it and none of my friends wanted to bother with a second phone number.  If you call my cell you can always get me.  Call the house, you’ll just end up calling the cell anyway.  But only real adults know this.
  15. Care about their friend’s babies.  What if you don’t know any friends with babies?  Can you not be a real adult?
  16. Drive to bars.  Only so you can drive home from the bar totally sloshed.  That’s a real adult for you.  But the real question is how do non-real adults get to bars?
  17. Live in the suburbs.  What’s wrong with living in the city, or in a rural area?  So discounting age, about 65% of the American population is not a real adult because they live in a city?
  18. Avoid taking public transportation.  At this point I am dying laughing, but then I understand Johanna’s logic.  Many people that live in the city, especially big metropolises take public transportation.  Since they aren’t real adults because they live in the city, it doesn’t matter that they take public transportation because that is not what real adults do.  Forget about the fact that it might be more convenient or cheaper, or maybe you’re a person that cares about the environment and you want to help reduce your carbon footprint by not owning a car.  I think Johanna is right:  everyone should move out of New York City to Westchester and buy a car and then commute into the city for their jobs.  That’s what real adults do…. create congestion and smog.
  19. Get enough sleep.  Babies get enough sleep.  Are they real adults?
  20. Go to church > ~1x/year  What if you’re an atheist?  Or Jewish or Muslim or any other religion that doesn’t require church presence?  You’re not a real adult.
  21. Get their cars detailed.  What if you’re able to do it yourself?  Does that count?  I never had my car detailed because I kept it clean enough that it never required it.  Is that not adult enough?
  22. Mow a lawn.  What if you don’t have a lawn?  Wait a minute, since real adults live in suburbia they have lawns.  But wait, what if you live in an apartment in suburbia?  You’re not an adult?
  23. Use coupons.  I don’t even know how to respond to this.  Maybe because I don’t use coupons, but then we’ve established that I am not much of a real adult.
  24. Bake things for people at work.  Again, I’m laughing.  Although I know a lot of men that bake, I know a ton more that don’t.  I also know a ton of women that don’t bake.  Guess they’re not real adults.
  25. Make conversation with adult strangers.  It is 2012 and it’s a war out there.  It’s not really safe to be striking up conversations with adult strangers, but I guess they do that in suburbia.  I wouldn’t know, not being a real adult.
  26. Haven’t convinced their 11-year-old cousin they personally know Justin Bieber.  I’m just going to leave this one alone.  It’s just too stupid for words.  Even if you AREN’T a real adult, who would purposely try to convince anyone that they knew Justin Bieber, or any celebrity for that matter, unless they had some kind of mental issue?
  27. Shower before work + blow dry hair.  I happen to bathe at night because I don’t like to get into bed dirty.  I also don’t blow dry my hair because it is damaging.  So another fail for me.
  28. Natural look make-up.  What about no make-up, does that count?
  29. Paint their nails with neutral colors.  I had always thought of myself as a real adult, despite the fact that Johanna has informed me that I am not.  At any rate, I do sometimes wear outrageous nail colour.  I guess that has sealed my fate.
  30. Wear sandals that aren’t metallic flip-flops.  I am not sure why anyone would wear metallic flip flops.  I guess she meant metallic-coloured flip-flops but there’s really know trying to guess where Johanna is concerned.
  31. Matching place settings.  What if you’re single and don’t entertain much?
  32. Own “place settings”  What if can’t afford it or you never have anyone over?  Does it matter if you have place settings?
  33. Ask their dads for a favor without using a baby voice.  Something tells me that Johanna is very good at this.
  34. Wash clothes after each wear.  I have a number of items that require dry cleaning.  Is that the same thing?
  35. Use wash clothes.  I am assuming she meant washcloths, but at any rate, what about those loufahs.  That’s too childish?
  36. Use shapewear.  Here is another hysterical laughing point for me.  Real adults use shapewear?  What if you are in excellent shape and do not require shapewear? What about men?  Are real adult males expected to wear corsets and butt padding?
  37. Invest.  Okay, another point for Johanna.  This is another of those things that does come with maturity and ability.
  38. Refer to things as “investments”  What things, precisely?
  39. Feel ambivalent about getting something for free.  Despite making a comfortable salary I am always excited to receive something for free.  Any time I can save money it’s a good thing, but in order to be a real adult you must be blase about it.  Too much excitement is childish.
  40. Subscribe to magazines they read regularly instead of buying them each month at the newsstand price.  Johanna gets a third point from me because this does make good sense.  I don’t know if you have to be a real adult to figure this one out though.
  41. Return library books.  Since I am in the habit of stealing library books, there goes my credibility as a real adult.  This one was just stupid.  I’ve known a few people who have accidentally forgotten about a library book but I do not know anyone who has purposely taken a book without any plan to return it.
  42. Scrapbook.  Really?  Real adults scrapbook.
  43. Feel a genuine curiosity about the different types of wine.  What if you do not like wine or don’t drink at all?  What if beer is your thing?  What if you just want to get sloshed and don’t care how it happens, whether it’s red or white or French brandy?
  44. Correct grammar.  Unless you’re an English teacher, you’re screwed.
  45. Send faxes.  1987 anyone?  I’m not sure I’ve faxed anything since high school.  They have scanners now, or didn’t you know that Johanna?
  46. Keep important documents in a file cabinet/not throw them away in a feng shui attack.  I give Johanna a half point for this one.  It is important to keep documents that you’ll need later, but you don’t need a file cabinet and if it’s beginning to clutter it’s time to get rid of things.  As I mentioned before, they have these things called scanners now.
  47. Grow plants recreationally.  This is just as dumb as scrapbooking.
  48. Vote for Republicans.  What about the rest of America?  They’re not adults?  I mean, real adults?
  49. Watch network television shows.  What precisely about network TV makes one a real adult?  What if you prefer reading instead of TV?
  50. Dream about retirement.  Another half point, bringing the grand total to four.  Retirement is important and I think a real adult does spend some time contemplating retirement, but dreaming about it?  Unless you are the day before 67 (or whatever the retirement age is) and about to start collecting that check with no fear the money will run out, I guess life sucks for you because you are not a real adult.

What Happened To That Girl?

Whoa!  Did I disappear off the face of the earth or what?  I’ve seriously neglected my blog.  I know my five loyal readers have abandoned me now and I will have to work that much harder to get people back to this poor site.

Seriously, I’ve just been crazy busy since May.  I literally have not had a calm moment since my birthday.  I spent half of May in Hawaii.  I went to Las Vegas in the beginning of June.  I drove across the country at the end of June with my sister.  I was on military orders in July.  And the Kid is back in full effect.  That really leaves no time for breathing.

It’s been an interesting 2.5 months even without all the travelling.  I’ve been living it up with friends, catching up with old ones and creating new ones.  People I’d previously discarded are trying to make a comeback to no avail.  My sister has moved closer to me and I’ve been going down to North Carolina every other weekend to hang out.  It’s so much more awesome than the one or two times I could get out to Arizona.

I have other big news but I’m going to hang on to it for awhile.  Some people already know and some have figured it out, but don’t worry you all shall know soon enough.

This isn’t going to be very long, but if you do read my blog on a random occasion just know I’m back and I promise I won’t neglect you again.

The Price of Gas Everywhere Else

I was trolling around on MSNBC.com this morning, and I came across this table listing the price of gas in other countries. We are complaining here in the United States for paying (on average) $3.85 for a gallon of gas. I read last night on CNN that a gas station in Orlando was charging $5.69 for gas.

But what if you lived in ……..Eritrea where they are paying almost $10 for some gas? Or Venezuela where they are paying less than a dime. Can you imagine .06 a gallon? That is nothing. I could fill up my tank with the change I find in the couch. Crazy.

Buenos Aires, Argentina
$3.70
Sydney, Australia
$5.41
Sao Paulo, Brazil
$6.57
Toronto, Canada
$4.96
Santiago, Chile
$5.96
Beijing, China
$4.20
Havana, Cuba
$5.11
Copenhagen, Denmark
$8.42
Cairo, Egypt
$1.13
Asmara, Eritrea
$9.59
Paris, France
$7.80
Berlin, Germany
$7.78
Hong Kong, Hong Kong
$7.78
Mumbai, India
$4.77
Tehran, Iran
$2.56
Rome, Italy
$7.82
Tokyo, Japan
$6.74
Nairobi, Kenya
$4.74
Seoul, Korea
$7.27
Kuwait City, Kuwait
$0.81
Mexico City, Mexico
$2.83
Monte Carlo, Monaco
$8.45
Lagos, Nigeria
$1.60
Oslo, Norway
$9.27
Karachi, Pakistan
$3.12
Moscow, Russia
$3.18
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
$0.45
Victoria, Seychelles
$5.26
Singapore, Singapore
$6.02
Johannesburg, South Africa
$4.82
Bangkok, Thailand
$4.32
Dubai City, United Arab Emirates
$1.77
London, United Kingdom
$8.17
New York, United States
$3.82
Caracas, Venezuela
$0.06

What’re You Looking For?

I don’t understand how you can complain about finding the right one but you are on the way to the club.  Do you really think you are going to find the right one at the club?  Go to the supermarket, church, PTA meetings, or anything that is respectable.  If you go where positive people lurk, you are bound to find it.  Yes, I said supermarket.  At least you know they can cook and not gonna feed you fast food everyday.  Church, because at least they are trying to better themselves.  PTA meetings because they care about their kids’ future.  Go to the right damn places.  You ain’t gonna find shit in the club.  That is all.

~Twitter rant from @CutzDaGod

When I saw this show up in my Twitter feed, I busted out laughing.  He is right, but then he is wrong in so many ways.  He is right that a woman should surround herself with positive people in the hopes that she may meet a positive man.  Yes, you can find a man at a club, but that’s a little bit like bargain shopping.  You can also find a man at a supermarket (LOL), church, a PTA meeting and the dumpster in your apartment building.  You can find a man anywhere.  My biggest problem with @CutzDaGod’s statement is that a woman has to find a man.

Desperate, lonely women everywhere are on the hunt for men.  You see, ladies, the problem is that you are looking.  Stop looking for a man.  Start looking for yourself.  Women who say they cannot find a man are going about it all wrong.  I believe that a woman has to find, know and love herself before she can find, know and love a man, and for him to love her back.

I am not going to pretend that I am some kind of love doctor.  I am not happily married.  I am not even in a relationship, and haven’t been in one for a very long time.  I wish I had a beau just like all other single women out there, but I have to laugh at a mental image of me running up and down the aisles of a supermarket looking for a man.  I had this daydream that I was in Safeway going up to random men.  “Will you be my boyfriend?”  One guy says no because he is already married.  Another man says no because he is gay.  A third guy says hell no because he doesn’t find me attractive.  In my daydream, I got upset that I could not find a man.  I found three of them, but none of them were for me.

I tweeted back to CutzDaGod and asked him if it would be okay for me to go to a PTA meeting to look for a man even though I do not have children.  I am not a Christian and I do not often go to church, but I was thinking about going to one to find a man.  Would this be acceptable?  This is all just laughable:  the very idea of me crawling through the pews at church, scoping out single men.  I will have found many but who is to say that any of these men are compatible?  That any of them will even be attracted to me?  That any of them might be The One (whatever that is)?

That is the problem with “finding a man.”

I have a friend who trolls dating websites looking for a man.  She has found many men but not the one she’s looking for.  Thankfully, none of them have been psychopaths, but many of them are losers who don’t appreciate her for her worth.  Yet, she continues looking for a man on these sites anyway.  I have another friend who frequents happy hours.  She goes to a different happy hour every night of the week all over the city, looking for a man.  She gives her phone number to anybody that asks.  Also thankfully that she hasn’t given her phone number to any serial killers, but she has found many married men, men already in multiple relationships, men who just want sex and men who are not sure what they want.  She complains all the time that she cannot find a man.  I say to her, “But look at all these guys!  There’s so many.”  But none of them are what she’s looking for.

Both my friends are nice women with decent jobs.  They are attractive.  We all have our problems, but they don’t have deep-rooted issues that would scare anybody away.  Yet, even though they go out on plenty of dates and have an iPhone full of phone numbers, they cannot find a man.  I want to tell them that a man isn’t what they should be looking for, but I know they may not understand what I’m saying, or they may not care, coming from a woman who is just as single as they are.

For my own part, I know that I will not be single forever.  One of these days I’m going to meet somebody truly special, and it’s not going to be because I was searching and hunting, like I’m looking for a bargain at a K-Mart.  The few women that I do know that are married or have stable relationships don’t say, “Girl, I found my man at Wal-Mart!”  They tell me interesting stories about how they met, or how they got together after knowing each other years, or some such.  None of them say anything about, “Well, I was trolling the aisles at Giant and I found him hiding in the meat section!”

Eventually, it’s gonna happen.  It’s hard to be patient.  It’s hard to not look so desperate.  It’s hard to not feel jealous at other women’s happiness, but none of these things is going to put you in a real relationship.  Stop looking for a man because everyday you find one, but then you say that’s not what you’re looking for.  Then you can say, “Well, I’m looking for one that is 6 feet tall with muscles, a college degree, his own house…etc” and this laundry list of qualifications, making it even more impossible to find what you want.

And anyway, why are we looking for them?  Why are they not looking for us?  Ever thought about that?

Valentine’s Day War Stories

I am not one much for Valentine’s Day.  Maybe because I am usually single on this day supposedly for lovers, or maybe because I think of it like I do all other holidays:  you should not wait for a specific day of the year to express anything.  The same people who go gaa-gaa for Valentine’s Day are the same people who rush out and buy a shit ton of Christmas presents but don’t really celebrate the real meaning of the day.

The few times I did celebrate Valentine’s Day were kind of lame.

I dated Drunky for two years and that was two very horrible Valentine’s Day.  The first year, we went to Cheesecake Factory, a restaurant I absolutely hate.  I told him that I hate that place.  Black people go there thinking it’s some top quality restaurant but it is just as bad as Red Lobster and TGIFriday, all of which I hate.  It was like Drunky purposely took me there because he knew I hated it.

The place was super crowded.  The server was nice but he was so busy.  The orders got messed up.  Then the food was cold.  They took it back and reheated it, but the food is just nasty in the first place.  I tried to stay positive about it but I just did not have a good time.  Drunky seemed to be upset because I was not having a good time.  What do you expect?  I would have rather gone to McDonald’s and I think that place is a dump.

The next year, we decided not to go out.  He cooked dinner for me and that was very sweet, but there’s a reason I call him Drunky.  He got absolutely trashed while cooking dinner.  By the time the food was finished, he fell into a drunken stupor.  So I kinda ate dinner by myself while watching something on the golf channel (Drunky was a golf fan).  When I got up to leave, he suddenly woke up because he remembered that he bought me some gifts.  He was so drunk that he pretty much threw them at me.  It was a tennis bracelet and some earrings.  He left the price tags on everything.

Another guy I was dating thoughtfully gave me some gift cards.  I thought it was really awesome because there were quite a few of them:  Best Buy, Wal-Mart, and some place else.  Usually, I think gift cards are lame.  It’s like you didn’t put any thought into it.  But since me and this guy had only been dating a few months, I let it slide.  I would not expect a trip to Tahiti from a guy I’ve known five minutes.  So when I went to try to use the gift cards, I discovered that they either had no money on them, or just a few dollars or they were expired.  The Wal-Mart card literally had 79 cents left.  The Best Buy card did not have any money and the card for the other store had $100 but it had been expired for more than a year and I could not use it.  Luckily, after I attempted to use the card at Wal-Mart, I was smart enough to go on Best Buy’s website to see how much was on there before I embarrassed myself.

Then the guy had the nerve to ask me what I bought with the gift cards.  I told him, a Kit-Kat bar, since that was all I could afford.  He started laughing and I was like, did you know these cards barely had any money on them?  He said, “I wasn’t sure.  I had them for a long time and I didn’t really check.  My bad.”  He made no further attempt to make it up to me.  We only dated for a few more months.  He is also the same guy who took me to a sports bar for dinner so he could watch a game on TV.  Several of his boys were there and I was largely ignored.

Lastly, I went out with a guy from my ROTC unit a few years ago on Valentine’s Day.  We went to the club and had a great time.  Towards the end of the night, he started to get really drunk.  A friend of ours had come with us so he offered to drive us home since the other guy was too drunk.  It was cool and no big deal until he got a phone call from his ex-girlfriend.  He spent the entire ride home screaming and crying into the phone about how she ruined his life.  His friend did his best to try to get him to hang up but he was too drunk to really pay attention.  All of his carrying on did not bother me until he shouted, “No, you’re the one who gave that shit to me.  I’m not the one who cheated.  It must have been one of those guys you were cheating on me with.  Who even fucking knows.”

The girl said something.  He started screaming again.

“No, you ruined MY life.  Every time I look at my fucking dick I am reminded of what you did and you have the nerve to blame me?  Like I forced you to cheat.”

I was like… uhm… yeah.  The friend looked at me. I  looked at the friend.  Yeah…

The next day at like 730 in the morning, he called me.  He was very obviously hung over and sounded like death.

“I’m really sorry about last night.”

“Hey, it’s not problem.  I’m easy.”

“Yeah, apparently I said a lot of things that should have been private.”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal.  Your secrets are safe with me.”

Then there was this long awkward silence, and then he hung up.  Obviously, I did not go out with him again but we did see each other in class.  We were cool but he kept his distance, probably because he was embarrassed.  I don’t blame him.

Drunky occasionally drunk dials me every now and again, but I haven’t seen him since we broke up.  The other guy who took me to the sports bar and gave me the expired gift cards, I don’t know where he’s at.  It was like he fell off the face of the earth.  STD Guy?  He dropped out of ROTC and then I dropped out and we never saw each other again.

I’ve had some pretty shitty Valentine’s Day, but they all haven’t been bad.  I have received flowers unexpectedly.  I’ve gotten some really nice gifts from guys who are still good friends.  Other times I’ve just stayed at home and enjoyed some peaceful solitude.  I am not the type to get depressed if I don’t have a date for Valentine’s.  This year, I went out to dinner Friday and Saturday.  My boo bought me delicious double chocolate cake which we shared together.

Then he unexpectedly brought some balloons over to my house in the middle of the night.  He tied them to the front door.  When I left for work in the morning, the wind was blowing really hard.  The damn balloons blew into the house and I thought it was someone trying to break in.  I started screaming, then I tried to slam the door but the balloons got caught in the door.  I realised what they were, but still, it was kind of scary.  It was a thoughtful gesture maybe not the best idea for someone who usually goes to work at 330 in the morning.  He also left some cards in my windshield.  It was very thoughtful.

At any rate, Valentine’s is just another day for me.  It’s not that big a deal.  It’s nice if you have it, but nothing to cry about if you don’t.

I Have a Dream

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating “For Whites Only”. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.”

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

MSP Polar Bear Plunge

So… I don’t know how I get myself into these things.  Call it peer pressure, but a friend of mine is participating in the MSP Polar Bear Plunge, and for some insane reason I decided to join in on it.

It’s for a good cause:  Special Olympics – Maryland.

Basically, the whole idea is to jump in the freezing ass water in the name of charity.  The minimum donation amount to participate is $50, but it would be great if I could raise more than that.  If you don’t want to join me in the cold water, then maybe you might consider a donation.  If you don’t have a lot to give, you can donate just $5.  If you have more, well, of course the charity could always use more.

Follow the link to learn more about the MSP Polar Bear Plunge.  Maybe you might want to sign up for yourself.

If you this ain’t your bag and you just want to help out a good cause, go to my Donation Page and make a donation.

Come on, you know you wanna.  Consider it your do’gooder thing for the year.  It’s just $5.  That can’t even get you a happy meal these days.  If you make a donation, I’ll tell you what time I’m plunging and you can come and take a picture of me as I drag myself out of the freezing water.  : )

The 12 Days of Christmas

The 12 Days of Christmas

December 14, 1972

My dearest darling John:

Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge in a
Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a hundred times
for thinking of me this way.

My love always,
Agnes

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December 15, 1972

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle
doves. I’m just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just
adorable.

All my love,
Agnes

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December 16, 1972

Dear John:

Oh! Aren’t you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don’t deserve such
generosity, three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist,
you’ve been too kind.

All my love,
Agnes

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December 17, 1972

Dear John:

Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are
beautiful, but don’t you think enough is enough.

You are being too romantic.

Affectionately,
Agnes

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December 18, 1972

Dearest John:

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for
every finger. You’re just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all those
birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.

All my love,
Agnes

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December 19, 1972

Dear John:

When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on my
front steps. So you’re back to the birds again huh? These geese are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can’t sleep
through the racket.

Please stop.

Cordially,
Agnes

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December 20, 1972

John:

What’s with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a swimming. What kind
of joke is this? There’s bird poop all over the house and they never stop
the racket. I can’t sleep at night and I’m a nervous wreck. It’s not funny.

So stop those freaking birds.

Sincerely,
Agnes

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December 21, 1972

O.K. Buster:

I think I prefer the birds. What the heck am I going to do with 8 maids a
milking? It’s not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a milking, but
they had to bring their darn cows. There is manure all over the lawn and I
can’t move in my own house.

You must think you’re really cute…please cut it out.

Agnes

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December 22, 1972

Hey Bonehead:

What are you…..some kind of sadist? Now there’s nine pipers playing. And
let me tell you, do they play. They’ve never stopped chasing those maids
since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are getting upset and
they’re stepping all over those screeching birds. What am I going to do?
The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.

You’ll get yours !

Agnes

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December 23, 1972

You rotten jerk:

Now there’s ten ladies dancing. I don’t know why I call those sluts ladies.
They’ve been playing around with those pipers all night long. Now the cows
can’t sleep and they’ve got diarrhea. My living room is a river of crap.
The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the
building shouldn’t be condemned.

I’m calling the police on you !

Agnes

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December 24, 1972

Listen you asshole

What’s with those eleven lords a leaping on those maids and ladies? You’ve
turned my home into a brothel. Those pipers got incredibly drunk on the eggnog,  and ran through the maids. All twenty-three of the birds are dead.
They’ve been trampled to death in all the ruckus.

I hope you’re satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.

You’re sworn enemy,
Agnes
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December 25, 1972

Dear Sir:

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling which
you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McHolstein. The
destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our
attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale
Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.

With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

Happy Holidays,
Law Offices