Anyone who thinks I'm disrespectful can feel free to choke on a swollen cock

2002-01-19, 6:48 p.m.

Husband is now forgiven of all past and future sins.

Not only was his letter the sweetest one he's ever sent me, but it smelled so strongly of his manly fragrance that I immediately stripped and rubbed the paper all over my body.

Yep, in case there was any doubt left ... I'm a dork!
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So. Even though I had the lingering scent of Husband permeating my being all the live-long day, work still managed to suck an unusually massive amount of rabid donkey dick.

I'm not going to bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that if ONE MORE person tells me that I lack "military bearing," I'm going to have to kick them in the nads.

Y'see (all you lucky non-military folks), military bearing is the Army's way of making you its bitch.

Pretty much, as long as you do whatever anybody higher-ranking tells you to do, you're gold. No questions asked.

Unless they tell you to get fucked, then you ask, "Which hole?"

So, since I have always had an argumentative, outspoken, bitchy side (that would be the front side, for anyone who's wondering), I manage to piss some people (read: all people) off throughout the course of my day.

Don't look at me like that; nature made me this way. I am a friendly asshole who gets along with everyone, provided they don't anger me.

I'm actually a pretty respectful person, unless someone disrespects me, and then I become the Hell Spawn Of Satan and write scathing commentaries about them on any flat surface I can find.

But for the most part, that doesn't really make me too many enemies, since it doesn't happen often.

ANYway, I have been told that this inability to withhold my opinion about anything means that I lack military bearing, and that I need to start responding with a mere "Yes, sergeant" when given any instructions from now on.

To which I can't help but ask, "Which hole?"
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By the way, I'm just about sick of Baghdad.

Not that it's all that terrible, at least where I'm at, but I definitely wouldn't make a "Girls Gone Wild" here.

God help anyone who would, though. I can just see it -- "These girls bare everything! From the neck up, that is, everyone knows breasts are for infidels!"

Still, even though my quality of living is really nothing to complain about (I mean, I get to shower every day, which is more than some people get around here), it's not home.

So, I'm off to go sniff Husband's letter.

(Sigh.)