And the beat goes on

Wednesday, Nov. 22, 2006, 11:50 a.m.

Fucking amazing, is what you guys are. Thank you. Thank you for being the most supportive bunch of expletive-flinging readers a girl could ever ask for. I never doubted that you would come through for me in full force, but seriously: Thank you.

To repay you, I will go ahead and continue having retarded Army bosses to write about for what appears to be years to come. Hooray! I have not reenlisted yet, but when I do, you will all be in my thoughts.

Of course, my current retarded Army boss (the lieutenant colonel) (whom, incidentally, we refer to as "Springbuck McGraw" behind his back) is still going strong. Ever since he refused to run my commentaries and refused to let me out of the Army without once giving me a face-to-face explanation for either, I have not made eye contact with him under any circumstances.

It's actually kind of amusing. He won't assert himself and talk to me, so I alternate between pretending he doesn't exist and shooting invisible, ineffective Death Lasers at him with my eyes. If I outranked him, I believe he would fear me, but at the moment he just seems to be sensibly ignoring the obvious fact that I could not respect him less if he was an actual steaming pile of moose hurl. I also have heard from credible sources that he "really does not want to deploy with you if he can possibly help it."

Wise choice, Springbuck. Wise choice, indeed.

On a semi-related note:

Monday morning I took pictures of our Division's giant group run, while standing in a bucket truck way up in the air. While I was up there, I fought back the tremendous urge to hock a giant wad of throat-juice at the general as he ran underneath my perch.

Does that mean I'm growing up?

In other news of the shiteous, I am sad to report that my beloved camera has died an untimely death. If I hadn't intelligently lost its warranty, it may have been revived, but seeing as how the gene which is supposed to remind me to not misplace money-saving documents (even coupons! I swear, it should be counted as a disability) seems to be very nearly comatose in its section of my brain, I can do nothing but mourn it. I am distraught.

All I can say is, if you believe in the Nikon D70S Fairy, children ... please put in a good word for me.

And now, dear ones, I am off to have an extended Thanksgiving weekend, filled with eating and lounging and eating while lounging. I'm planning to make up for last year, when I was a) in Iraq and b) only able to eat mushy foods.

I hope you all have an equally as fattening holiday, and if you want to share any fat-ass recipes with me, please feel free, because tomorrow is the day when, as we all know, calories don't count.