ammogirl

Well.  I will tell you what, if you are going to volunteer to work a booth at the Ramstein Rockin’ Fourth or whatever it was called, the 11pm to 1am shift is where it’s at.  I’m already home!  It’s…only 1213!  I didn’t even have to do anything–we were out of food by the time my shift started, and the fireworks had just kicked off, so everyone was settled down and watching them.   All we did was sell a few waters, turn away some disappointed drunks (”What do you mean, you have no chicken?  I AM DRUNK!”) and lock up.  From this point on, I will always, always volunteer for the latest shift possible that doesn’t involve the actual teardown of the booth.

Oh, when I said we were out of food, I meant just the chicken.  We still had chips, right?  All kinds of chips.  Fritos.  Doritos.  Cheetos.  I mean, except for Salt & Vinegar potato chips, all the best kinds.  So I was really bewildered when the drunks would say no when offered them in lieu of chicken.  Who are these people?  When I’m drunk in a chip-related situation, I immediately make a bee-line for the nearest bag and dibs it.  In fact, when I’m REALLY drunk in a chip-related situation, I do little else BESIDES eat chips.  Chips.  Chips.  Hey, chips is one of those words that looks and sounds weird when you say it too many times.

Anyway, speaking of food, I decided to clean out my refrigerator today.  Did you know mustard expires?  Yeah!  I had to get rid of two bottles, one of which expired in DECEMBER 2006.  Pretty much every condiment in my fridge was a goner, plus multiple expired items from my pantry.  When I was done emptying everything out, I stared into my empty-ass fridge and thought, “Great.  I’m THAT person.”  You know, the person who never has any food?  And you wonder how they survive?  I wish I had the camera right now, because in my fridge I have: ice cream toppings (caramel and two types of hot fudge), salad dressing, four different jugs of juice, one lone can of Bitburger beer, a 12-pack of Vault Zero, coffee creamer, and a jar of mayo.  I am not lying.  And the thing is, I didn’t throw away any food food.  No, it was all salad dressings and condiments.  So, I ask you, WHAT AM I EATING?  I am weird.  My poor husband, he was probably glad to get away from here, so he could find some nourishment.  I thought he was looking a little thin…hmm.  Perhaps I should go grocery shopping.

Wow.  I became instantly exhausted just now.  I’m outta here.

Happy Fourth, everyone!  Sparklers!

Tschuss!!

Do you have any particular pet peeves when it comes to spelling?  I definitely do.  My top two annoyances are loser/looser and desert/dessert.  Being in the military, the word desert is used a lot.  I would say a good 30% of the time it is misspelled as dessert, and every time I want to hunt down the author and dessert them in the head.  GAH!

So like I said twenty years ago, or whenever my last post was, John is in Italy until Wednesday for a softball tournament.  He’s with my entire office, and the night before they drove down, they all stayed over at Matt’s house.  In other words, they had a slumber party.  Anyway, I’m by myself again, but I get to do really fun things like…work on the 4th of July.  Actually, I am going in because I need to get some stuff done. So it’s not like it was mandatory work time or anything.  And somehow when you go in to work, but you do it on your own schedule, and you don’t have to wear a uniform, it seems almost like not working. Right?  RIGHT?

It’s just that of course, the minute everyone walked out the door on Tuesday, the phones started ringing off the hook and emails started flowing in and shipments had to go to Kksdfoaifheanstan and OH MY GOD it got so busy.  I had to work until almost SIX PM that night.  That is OUTLANDISH.  But all of that was just the topping on the fact that bla bla bla military work stuff, things you aren’t interested in, so as a result, I only have until Tuesday to get it done.  And that will be hard.  But!  It won’t be a problem, because I am awesome!  Sort of.  Well, when I want to be, anyway.

Have I mentioned that I hate my job, a little bit?  I try to like it but most of the time I fail with that.  The job I’m doing right now is 75% reactive, and I have a hard time with reactive situations.  For one, I don’t ever remember anything, so when people come in and go, “Quickly, I need to know how many bombs are located at one particular base in the UK and what their short tonnage is”, I can never answer right away.  I can’t keep that kind of info in my head!  It’s not interesting at all!  And then, to make it worse, once I DO know the information, generally you have to draft up either an email, memorandum, or bullet background paper on it, and being the military, you can’t just WRITE STUFF, you have to format it and condense it and officialize it and it would be so much easier if I could just WRITE DOWN WHAT I WANT TO SAY, but I can’t.  Definitely, without a doubt, written communication is my personal roadblock to my job.

Oh, speaking of communication, you know what else really, REALLY bugs me?  Forwarded emails from my boss, who is staunchly Republican and likes to send me “witty” “true” facts about both parties.

Also, FlatGreg trounced me in a drum-off tonight.  I hate him, a little bit.

Tschuss!!

Well, we’ve officially crossed over into the realm of ridiculous with the purchase of John’s belated Father’s Day gift–a freaking PS3.  You know, because the Xbox, Xbox 360, and Wii weren’t enough.  But I was silly, you see.  I gave him a choice of what he wanted, a brand new grill to replace the beatdown, world-traveling one we own now or the PS3, and what was I thinking?  Of COURSE the PS3 wins out, because as one of my friends from work pointed out, the grill is a default win anyway.  Because grills are necessary, meaning man cannot live without one, which makes it an automatic no-present purchase.  In other words, John is getting two presents for Father’s Day.  Belated.  And he’s not even my father.  Plus, have I mentioned he’s going to Italy on Wednesday for a softball tournament?  And I can’t go because the people he is going with are my entire office, meaning I am left behind to man both house AND work? By myself?  Sighhh.  I wish I was my husband, except then I’d be married to me, and that can’t be fun.

Hey, remember wayyyy back to last June when I found out I passed the test for my next stripe? Well!  Thirteen months later, I finally get to put it on.  I know!  I forgot I made another stripe too!  But sure enough, when I put on my uniform tomorrow, I will have six stripes instead of five, and that’s all kinds of awesome, the least of which being if I never make another rank, it doesn’t matter!  Tons of people retire as a Master Sergeant (MSgt, E-7, go ahead and take your pick), and while I certainly wouldn’t turn down the NEXT stripe, there will be no killing myself to try to make it.

Wow, I’ve just discovered that while answering any question, comment, or statement my husbands makes about the PS3, all I have to say is, “That’s awesome!” and he’s satisfied.  I just tried it.  Totally works.

Okay gotta go.

Tschuss!