Whoever Told You That It Was All Good Lied

Right. Number 40 is talk radio listener guy. You know that guy? The guy who wouldn't have an opinion on pizza if he hadn't heard it on whatever right-wing propaganda radio show he habitually listens to. This person is vile. I hate you.
Ask this guy what he thinks the catalyst was for the change in the opinion of social causes between the democrats and republicans, and he will stare at you blindly. Ask the same guy how to solve problems in the Middle East and all of a sudden this guy has a Doctorate in International Relations from Oxford.

The left wingers have their bullshit they spout off from whatever equally nonsense radio show they listen to. So don't go thinking it's just a Bush supporter problem. Moranity is a problem that crosses party lines. I said that. You can quote me.

It's not the heat, it's the stupidity. Likewise, it's not the deployment, it's the fucking up my schedule. I would have done 3 straight years in Iraq if it meant I could go home when my volunteered time was up. I said it before and I meant it. But my time is going to be up, and I don't want to leave the Army at 32, having not used my education in 5 years and take an entry level job for less money. And I don't make shit. None of this is helping me pay off my student loans. None of this is helping me meet any women who aren't prostitutes. None of this will be looked upon in 50 years as time well spent. None of this is going to help me buy a boat. I won't be able to grow my hair out for a while now. To boil it down, I'm not satisfied.

But whatever.

There is nothing that can be done.

It's a thing called stop loss.

It's official. I no longer have hands. I have paws.

I need help cleaning my apartment. I am overwhelmed. I can't even function with how shitty it is. I think I have OCD and I am lazy. A deadly combination.

There are 6 sets of 8 stairs on my way to my apartment. 24 steps on my way from my car to those steps. I walk those twice a day. There are 2 sets of 11 steps to my office. I take 56 steps from my car to those steps 4 times a day. Except for days like today when someone parks in my spot. I get so heated about that shit. But then I think, "I run no less than 4 miles every morning. Who cares about an extra 42 steps to the stairs." There is one flight of 14 stairs in my mothers basement that leads upstairs. I took 17 steps from my bedroom to those steps a million times in my life. I will never take those steps again.

This past weekend I went to this obnoxious Lego theme park with Paul and his family. I fell half in love with this girl there. She is beautiful. She works there and teaches kids how to dance. First she taught this Indian (feathers not dots) dance, then a disco dance and finally a rock and roll type dance. So I talk to ol' girl because I am half in love and she's beautiful and she has a job. Only her English isn't all that good. So since I talk so fast and most things I say are jokes, and self deprecating ones at that, she called me a swindler. I felt like Han Solo, only I didn't get the girl. I am more bummed out about that than I should be. A swindler. Bitch.

The German people have this weird and unhealthy fascination with Indians of the feather variety. It's odd. My German history is a little foggy, but I don't recall any Cherokee in Bavaria. And you should see the goofy dances and clothes they do in tribute to the Native Indians of America. Christ alive it's offensive to me, and I think offensive is good.

Hadeel Al-Bayati is gorgeous and maybe I am going to Iraq to meet and marry her.