Monday, 21 July 2014

Still saying the darndest things....

My littlest child is 5. She says the funniest things, most of which are 'location' jokes and aren't very funny when re-telling them, but I can't help it.

We were driving in the car and she said that she heard a song at school that was the same song as a commercial on the TV. I told her to sing it to me and she said that she couldn't really remember it right this second.... So I told her to just sing it whenever she remembered it. We drive for another 10 minutes and her little child-singing voice booms out, "Don't you wish your girlfriend was a FREAK like me?"

We were driving home from after school and I asked her how her day went. She just shrugged and said that she had an "institution." I was like, "Uhm, Little one, what do you mean?"
She replied, "Miss Jane wasn't there today so we had an institution."

We were driving (I guess there's a theme there) and a driver ahead of me was pissing me off, speeding up and slowing down and swerving. I was speaking out loud, under my breath, saying, "Do you know how to drive you fuck?" And the voice in the backseat says, "MOM! I heard you say the middle finger!"

Every night my husband and I tivo Jeopardy! and after is Wheel of Fortune. The Bug was doing her homework at the kitchen table and the television in the living room was on. She goes, "When I am done with my homework, can I watch 'Wheel of Letter?'"

She cracks me up....

Tuesday, 19 February 2013


Don't do sports, can't get girls
It seems like such an unfair world
My friends play online D&D
We are the ones that people call geeks

I'm going to sit here and whine
I'm going to whine about how my life stinks
I'm going to whine all day long
I'm going to sit here and whine
I'm going to whine about how my life stinks
Would you like some cheese with that whine?

We sit around, complain
Whining away all our days
Just don't like anything
I'm just too anal-retentive

I'm just an object of pity
Why can't the world change to fit me
Maybe I wouldn't be an outcast
If I'd drop the attitude at last

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Fairview Wine and Cheese

Fairview Wine and Cheese farm is a South African producer of wines and cheeses based in the Paarl region of the Western Cape province. It is owned and run by Charles Back, who also owns The Goats do Roam Wine Company and The Spice Route Winery.

Thursday, 28 July 2005

Here vs. There

So many people complain about how bad it is here. By that, I mean this base, this command....

I am here to say that this place is great.

Here's why!

Organized PT. Most people would (and do) gripe about organized PT. Three times a week, at 0630, we get together as either a squadron of a flight and do PT. Normal PT consists of light stretching and strength training and a run. We normally do 5K - that's over 3 miles in english. Other days we do a sort of circuit training where we run a 1/4 mile and do push-ups or some other exercise in between more 1/4 mile laps. It's not easy and I have been steadily improving and feeling good about it. Why is this good? Because in other places, like where I just came from, they made you feel bad for wanting to do PT. My old boss was a civilian and, well to say this nicely, HE SUCKED. He was the classic hypocrite - Do as I say, not as I do. That asshole would go for bike rides in the middle of the day for a coupla hours, but you want to leave 30 minutes early to go to the gym? He'd hear you ask, then ignore you, forcing you to ask again. Then he'd get shitty and say, "I heard you." Well why didn't you respond to me, then, HUH? And he'd dilly dally with an answer until it was the end of the day and finally grace you with the, "Oh, uh, did you want to go to the gym? Well go already!" By now, it was time to leave anyway. What a dick. He did this ALL THE TIME. So let's see: Here vs. There. Here wins.

2. Duty hours and responsibilities. Normal Air Force duty hours are 0730 to 1630. Here it's 0700 - 1600. Some people complain that it's too early and all that. But here's the difference: Here, if you need to get something done during the day, medical appointment or anything else, they are totally lenient. Go! Do it! If you want to volunteer to do something, Meals on Wheels, etc., the folks here URGE you to go. There? Same as PT. Total guilt about leaving the office - even for lunch. The looks of discouragement, the crap attitude. You'd have a doctor appointment, but have to tell the Boss right when you got the appointment, then write it on the calendar, then remind him like three times, just so he'd know. If you were even a few minutes later than he thought, he wouldn't necessarily SAY anything to you about it, but he'd make deliberate looks at the clock when you came back, then ask you with this TONE, how it went. Here? You tell your co-workers right before you're going anywhere, sign out on the board, and no one says jack shit to you. In fact, if you come back too quickly, they are concerned that you didn't eat lunch while you were out. I have been trying to get into the swing of things, because I'll rush myself into illness trying to get back to work in a timely manner to avoid any questioning.... Here they trust that you are just getting your crap done, there, they couldn't care less if your husband was in the hospital or your kid was dying - just as long as you were at the office all day so they could go and do what they needed to do.... Here or there? You're right! HERE.

There are hundreds of examples of here or there. What it boils down to is this: I am so grateful to be out of the HELL of my last office. We just had a recall this morning and I literally jumped out of bed and rushed to work. No shower.... I didn't even brush my teeth because THERE, if you weren't teleported instantaneously to where they wanted to you to be, you were an asshole. Here? I was basically the first one here, and everyone else showed up reasonably, but showered and clean. I feel pretty stupid. Here they keep reminding me to relax. There, I had an ulcer - seriously. And it wasn't the command or the unit. It was one amazingly insecure, total little-dick-syndrome-sufferer that made life miserable.

I was fortunate enough to be able to call him a dick and to fuck off before I left. That was wrong, WRONG. But man, did it feel good! And the even funnier part of it was that the higher-ups were told what I had done, and I didn't get reprimanded at all. I was told that I should try to remain professional. HUH? Oh ok. But apparently everyone else thought he was a dick, too.

I feel like a dog that has been rescued from the pound. So does this place suck? It might, but I wouldn't know.

Sunday, 24 July 2005


In the Air Force, you have your job to do everyday, but you are expected to do more than just your job. There are other responsibilities that everyone has to pitch in to do: Booster Club, Sergeant's Association, Meals on Wheels.... Those things most people just volunteer to do. If no one wants to volunteer, then there's the Manditory Volunteer thing where someone just gets picked as a volunteer. Sometimes that works for you, sometimes it doesn't. I usually just volunteer because, really, I hate it when no one will step up. Hate it with a capital H. Plus, the details aren't that bad.
However, I just got totally screwed on the Manditory Volunteerism.

Two weeks ago, I was getting ready to leave work and my LT came up to me and said that he had good news and bad news. The good news was that I was the "Alternate." The bad news was that I got picked to be the Urinalysis Monitor for my flight.
What does this mean in layman terms? That I was screwed.

In the Air Force and all other services, there is drug testing. It's a NO TOLERANCE policy, so if you piss hot, you're OUT. Don't let the door hit you in the stoner ass. The testing is supposed to be random, so that's the deterrent. You never know when you'll be called in to pee, so just don't get high. The first four years I was in the Air Force, I got called twice to pee -- both times I was 7 1/2 months pregnant. It was great. After that it was more often, just in case you wanted to know.
Anyhow, the people performing the testing are actual drug testing people. That's what they do. Everyday. They call people and tell them that they've got to do Operation Golden Flow. The other people in the process, not the ones peeing, are volunteers. I say that very loosely. I got volunteered.
I was supposed to be the alternate, versus the primary, meaning that some other poor bastard was supposed to be doing it and if something happened, then I was to take the duty. But just the fact that my name came up at all, I knew I was doomed.
To make a long story short, I spent most of last week watching other girls pee into cups, then transfer that pee from one cup to another. Everything happening in my line of sight because they HAVE to. You never know when someone is going to try to slip in an anti-marijuana pill into their urine sample and prove the test faulty, right? I mean, there is a wizzinator for those DUDES who need a different sample than the one that comes straight from the main vein. But chicks? I dunno. You'd have to have a pretty complicated system to get a she-wizzinator.

The detail itself is pretty boring. There's like 3 times as many dudes as chicks, so there are 3 male observers for the guys. They alternate who has to watch. But the girls? Since there are so very few of us, there's only one monitor which means that EVERY time a chick walks in, I get to watch her. Every goddamn time. At least the dudes get to alternate!

Inbetween watching pee, we get to watch TV or read. The beauty of it, and this is sooooo typical, is that there's this HUGE, awesome flat screen tv for us in the lounge. The irony is that there's no cable. There's a set of bunny ears perched precariously on the teeny tiny frame of the tv. And tons of snow. So much snow that it's impossible to watch anything. It is, thankfully attached to a VCR/DVD, so if someone remembers to bring in movies, we can watch that.

This one male observer brought in the new Harry Potter novel to read. My GOD did everyone give him a hard time. It was sad, if I do say so myself.

Anyhow, overall the detail sucks, but there's worse details. Force Protection details suck way worse than the PeePee, but it still blows. And it's not the detail that really bites, it's the comments. Every person has to comment. Every person.

"Who did you piss off to get this dootie?" haha.
"So, did you volunteer for this?" haha.
"You must love this." haha.

And I just want to scream, "No I didn't fucking volunteer for this shit! I would rather be anywhere else than sitting here staring at your cooter! Nice Brazilian, by the way."

There's worse details, but it still sucks

Tuesday, 19 July 2005

I must look like Dear Abby

I don't know why. I guess that's the usual theme from my posts.

I guess that I have an easy face to talk to, and people DO. I find out more stuff about people that I don't know, and not even the usual, "What do you do?" and "Where do you live?" I get the strangest, darkest, inner recesses. I never ask, people just offer the info. It's turned into a kinda joke, really, about how people feel the need to dump all their crap on me.

Ok, wait. Before I go into this, lemme go back. I had to go to an Advanced Electronic Imagery course a few years back. It was at Fort Meade, MD. At the time, I was stationed in Turkey and had to fly halfway around the world for this class. No biggie. It was winter and there was snow on the ground that had melted and re-frozen into ice. The first day of class, I realize that another girl in the class is staying at the same motel as I, and we decide to carpool so that only one of us each day has to deal with the crappy streets. That's no big deal. On the second day, after class, I tell her that I am going to the bar. She says that she wouldn't mind joining me. "Ok," I think, "at least I won't be the single girl at the bar."


We get to the bar an order a drink. We are sitting there waiting for the drink (this part is important because we hadn't had ANYTHING at this point. If we were loaded, then I might be able to use that as an excuse!). She asks me, "Do you have any children?"
At this point in my life, I had two.
"Yes," I say, "as a matter of fact, I have two."
I swear to GOD, that is all I said. She replies:
"Oh really? Two, huh? Well I am never having any kids. My mother was the worst mother in the entire world and I never, NEVER wanted to do to another child what my mother did to me. I wanted to get my tubes tied, but I was under thirty and the military wouldn't do it -- especially because I wasn't married, too -- so I had to go to, like, three or four meetings with counselors to make them understand that I didn't want kids and NEVER, EVER wanted kids. They finally let me get the operation, so I am never going to have kids. Even if I meet the perfect guy, I'll just get a cat or something, but no kids. Not me. Uh huh."

And I said, "What was your name again?"

But it happens. Rather often.

Thursday, 14 July 2005

I'm not looking for 4 Stars, but some food might work

So yeah, we had to evacuate for Hurricane Dennis. I don't get how I can live away from the Land of Walmart for three years, to get my *dream* assignment.... And the fuckin beaches are closed because of sharks and we have to go live in another hotel because there's a hurricane?

Is it ME, or Memorex?

Once again, I am wondering WHAT THE FUCK?!?

Just go with it -- take it in stride. Adapt and overcome. The military is always preaching to you to be able to "do more with less" and all that. It took me a WHILE to figure it out, but I got it. I GOT IT, DAMMIT. When, however, is anyone ELSE going to get with the program so that I don't feel so, so, soooo - what-do-you-call-it? STUPID? TAKEN? What.... I must be playing the game with different rules.

I am an only child, so whenever I went to someone's house to sleep-over, I was excited. The board games would come out, and I, naturally, would play by the written rules. These ideas were always squashed by the host family with rules of their own. I would struggle to understand, lose, and be made fun-of because, well, I was an outsider on their turf. So where are the rules?

Ok, OK! Jesus.

We went to St. Augustine. It was cool. HOWEVER, it was time to leave.

All I want is some food. I hate breakfast, but almost everyone else LOVES it, so (play the rules, Allison, play the rules), I go with it. There's IHOP and Denny's. It's not rocket science going to these places. You don't go to fuckin McDonald's and hope that there's some crazy new meal that's going to take you to places you've never been.

Here's an aside: When I am hungry like this, I am mean. I NEED to eat. At this point, a poop sandwich sounds delicious, and frankly, I couldn't care LESS where we go - as long as it's hot and fast. Here's another aside that most people will say TMI.... I like my man that way, too. Hehe.

Ok, OK! So we go to Denny's. It's actually difficult to find it. I'm not that retarded, but there's signs everywhere for it, but the actual restaurant is IN the hotel.... *sigh*

When we walk in, I should have noticed the responses from the others. Should have. Every situation gives a vibe. I am un-lucky enough to notice that vibe. It was a vibe of doom. It's like walking into the Animal Shelter. You know you want a dog, but you can only take one, MAYBE, and the other animals are staring at you, longingly, wondering if he/she/it is good enough for you. As you walk past the cages, (or booths in St. Augustine's Denny's), there is an audible sigh from the remainders. Apparently those people that were sitting in Denny's weren't sighing from the lack of want, but merely sighing from the lack that oh-my-god-someone-else-is-stupid-enough-to-come-here sigh. But I was strangely optimistic. I needed some food, GODDAMMIT.

How do I possibly tell you how awful it was?

Ok, OK. So yeah, the restaurant was trashed. The restrooms were pretty funky. There was gum on the floor (remind me to tell you about Sara Coleman - and YEAH, I am using her real name). The hostess was uninviting and the waitress was absent for at least 10 minutes for drinks. She was so absent, in fact, that I knew what I wanted to order by the time she came to the table. That's monumentous, by the way.... So we order.

Ten more minutes. And I am NOT exaggerating. I love to exaggerate, however, this was fucked up.

Oh, and no Apple Juice for the kid. No classy turn-color-glasses either -- that they advertise eveywhere, thank you.

Ok, OK.... I know I am droning on. Here's the skinny:

60 Minutes. I should call Wally Schaffer. We waited 60 minutes for eggs and pancakes. My LORD, I could have done that with my lighter and shower curtain at the Comfort Inn Suite. Really now~

We walked out. Had an iced tea and a coffee from Denny's and walked out. Man, that's sad.

I always felt bad for the servers at Denny's because I would never want to go to my high school reunion and tell people that I was a waitress at Denny's. I think that was one of the motivating factors for my joining and staying in the Air Force. Denny's isn't THAT bad, but, I would never want to admit that I worked there **Mind you I am 34 with 3 kids and a career**

Ok, OK... So we left. And my husband called to complain.

Here's my question.

The District Manager called me back to "forgive the situation" and he hopes that we will return to Denny's for another meal. Ok, this is where I am like WHATTHEFUCK?!?

Everyone KNOWS that Denny's is DENNY'S fer godssake. I know that my husband complained, but WHAT? I am going to return to Denny's and have a 5 Star meal?

Baked Meatloaf with Brown Gravy -- only vailable to Senior Citizens before 5PM?

What are they going to do? We complained because we weren't fed, and TRUST ME, we waited for that food. I couldn't see straight, I was so hungry. But to not give us anything after an HOUR?

Ok. Denny's in Ft. Walton is awesome. I'll go there, but.... When you see people looking at you sympathetically going into a restaurant? It's probably the hunger in their eyes, wishing they could gnaw on that chicken bone the voo-doo lady threw in the gutter.