Sometimes, I am a reporter!

Saturday, May. 05, 2007, 2:21 p.m.

I'm going to have to try to write this rather speedily, because I can't plug in my computer without unplugging either my alarm clock or my fan. Unless you want me to either oversleep or sit on my bed in a pool of my own sweat (which, although it is an effective weight-loss technique, is also an effective make-the-tent-stink-like-hard-boiled-ass technique), battery power is going to have to suffice.

I've kept fairly busy over the last week or so, which has really helped the time fly. A twelve-hour shift in an office building has the ability to hoover the soul right out of me and make those twelve hours seem like twelve days, but a six-hour patrol mission feels like it only took half that amount of time.

That's right, they actually let me go out and do some "reporting" this week! I went out on a joint Iraqi Police/U.S. patrol somewhere a bit south of Baghdad on Sunday, just walking around to various houses and meeting the locals. It was kind of like a Neighborhood Watch type of thing, actually -- except that instead of neighbors knocking on your door to make sure everything's copasetic, it's your friendly local police and their cohorts, the soldiers who are currently occupying your country.

The idea of the mission was to get the locals acquainted with their law enforcement personnel and try to reassure them that no, these people aren't corrupt and yes, they are here to protect and serve you and your children and even your sickly cows, which I wouldn't make into burgers even if they personally asked me, nay, begged me to, so as to put them out of their misery. But I digress.

I think the whole thing went off successfully -- none of the residents had any more than their allotted quantity of weapons and ammo (one AK-47 and two magazines, I believe), and there wasn't any violence or explosions. I almost fell into a canal while we were walking, due to my simultaneous lack of equilibrium and grace. That, I believe, was the biggest morale-booster of the day, especially considering that I was already waddling around like a spastic penguin thanks to my body armor.

Side note: The new body armor? Is like wearing a goddamn refrigerator on your torso. Although I highly enjoy not being easily punctured, I think I would be more mobile if I just strapped six armed guards to my body. But then again, maybe I'm just not used to it yet.

Anyway, here are a few photos from that:

Iraqi National Police, in their big-pimpin' truck. They are total camera whores.

This is one of the houses we went to -- the neighborhood was outside the city, so it didn't look as disgusting as some of the urban areas. These people aren't as poor as some of those in the city, either.

This guy had his ammo buried in his yard. That didn't look suspicious at all ...

So, they searched his house, as one does, in that situation. There wasn't anything illegal there, but the guy still needed to be given a quick run-through about how if you hide your ammo, you don't exactly look like you're not planning death and destruction, mmkay?

If, when I was a kid, I had walked out of my house to see several large, uniformed, armed men (as well as one uniformed, armed chick with a camera, come to think of it) approaching me, I probably would have shat myself. This boy just seemed mildly amused.

If this cow was the star of a period drama film, it would be the consumptive leading lady whom everyone knows is going to die by the end because she keeps coughing. (If you didn't follow me down Analogy Road just now, don't worry about it -- I'm kind of tired.)

"Fat-ass."

These kids followed us back to our vehicles. They knew enough English to communicate to us that they went to "school," used "pencil," and wanted "chocolata" and "feetball." Hey, it's still better than I could do in Arabic -- I know how to say "good morning," "good," "thank you," "peace be with you," and "Fuck you, bitch." Just the most useful phrases, of course.

I pulled out my pen and drew this on him. Perhaps I could have been more creative, but you know, one American soldier draws a giant boner on an Iraqi kid's hand, and it's all downhill from there.

Hey little boy, I'm sure we're no more intimidating than whatever the fuck that is on your shirt, so calm the hell down.

More like a parade than a convoy, if you ask these kids.

I have a ton of other photos up on my Flickr, but I can't put them all on here right now, thanks to my wimpy little laptop battery.

I did get a pretty decent article out of that adventure, not to mention bruises on my legs that grow in attractiveness with each passing day, so all in all, I'd have to say it was a fulfilling day. Even a lazy little cube-rat like me needs to get out and have some fun every once in a while.

Speaking of having fun, I mentioned before that I've been going to the pool during the day on a pretty regular basis. Except, you know how some people are really creepy and need to be beaten with bats? Well, one of those people decided to hunt me down on MySpace (without even knowing my NAME, in case this isn't freaking me out enough yet) and send me a message saying, in a nutshell, "I am watching you, and I am a skeevy perv." His site doesn't have a picture OR a name on it, and even Tom won't be his Friend.

Check it out:

Subject: What to say.....
Body: WOW, I guess is good for starters. I really don't know where to start. I was at the pool when you two took this picture. (INCREDIBLY HOT by the way). I see you from time to time around the FOB and think you are awesome. Love the tats. Talking to women here is next to impossible. I am married but in a very open marriage. Try throwing that one out there. Usually the married part or the open part send women running. It is a pretty cool deal. However. Seeing you at the pool is driving me nuts. Finding you on here was great. Couldn't miss you from the pic. Seen you a few times now at the pool. I will probably be there again tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday, weather permitting. Hope I see you there. Really gives me something to look forward too.

For now,
Your Secret Admirer>>>

AAAAAAHHH!!

Also -- AAAAAHHH!!!

Husband's opinion (which, hey, in case you were wondering, Husband is being quite spouse-tacular these days -- go, him!) is that if I had taken his advice and worn a sheet to the pool, all of this would never have happened.

Seriously, if this motherfucker interferes with my relaxation time (not to mention, my war tan), there will be some fiery hell to pay, in the form of a well-aimed kick.

Lastly! I need to send some mad love out to Smed, the Fuzzmeister and Rob for the incredibly awesome packages o' care and love that I've received from them.

Smed: You are the Mix Master. I love me some Butthole Surfers.

Fuzzy: Your appropriate selection of nonsexual (but still fun!) toys brought light to my day and joy to my childlike heart.

Rob: Red, white and blue AND edible? You are a fucking genius.

Okay, my battery is whimpering, but I will leave you with one last thing, which I will probably regret, but which I am going to post because I am in a celebratory, Cinco-de-Mayo mood:

In which Hannah and I set the feminist movement back, oh, fifty or sixty years. Woo hoo!