Too Much Christmas

The past few days of Christmas have been, well, eventful. We are on Christmas number 4 in three days, and we have one more to go! There is a direct correlation with the conduct of Christmas activities and the number of spankings that must be administered in order to maintain un-zoo like behavior! Example: This morning, out of the blue, Fletch just shoves Melson to the floor. Just because she can. "Flecth, why did you shove your brother down?" "Um, I...." tap dance, tap dance, tap dance ".....Mely was trying to leave the den, so I put my hand out to stop him, and...." SJ interjects with all the attitude of a 13 year old "Uh, no one told him to stay here!" "So, Fletch, you just shoved him down just to do it?" "Yeah" "OK, you know what you have coming" This time, she didn't even complain about it. She new she fucked up, hands down, done. Caught. Red handed. She took her lumps and moved out. Good girl. And, she behaved the rest of the day.

On the way from Opelika to Birmingham yesterday, both girls were acting like straight jackasses, all the way in the back of the van. After like, 50 warnings of physical action they continue. I told Trish, "Take down the tray to clear the Ass Beating Aisle!" (I kick it real in a Honda Odyssey, it has a fold down tray between the front seats. ) As Trish began clearing off the tray, our two rocket scientists in the back noticed all this motion going on and Mommy's uncontrollable laughter as I talk under my breath about how I'm going to break somebody down like a shotgun in a minute. They figure that ass beatings are imminent and immediately cease all activities and become the most quiet and model children ever. It saved them much physical pain and mental trauma. Smart girls.

Yesterday during lunch at my parents house, the girls start playing under the lunch table. This is an absolute no no. Of course there are grandparents and great grandparents present, so a little grace is given. Instead of the instant spanking, they get the "What are you thinking? What in the world makes you think you can crawl under the table?" To which my 87 year old grandmother, who would have hung me by my toes and skinned me alive for the same offense 30 years ago, replies jumping up and down in here seat "I know the answer, I know the answer! It's Christmas!!!" So, how do you not piss yourself laughing at her response and still scare the shit out of your kids? Professionalism. Years of police work and being in the Army. Everyone else at the table besides the girls, not so much. Even my beloved wife and partner in kid herding busted out laughing and spit out her soup on the table. Sometimes, I should just stay in bed.
However, I would not trade this insanity for anything else. I truly hate having to spank, but after the 50 warnings, you got to deliver.

Santa's Short Final And A Hot LZ

Last night after our return from the Christmas Eve service, we began our countdown sequence for Christmas Eve. We had already baked "Santa's" peanut butter cookies, with peanuts inside, so we headed into the dinner sequence and the feeding of the Reindeer. As I walked outside on the back porch to get more firewood I heard a deer run off. Perfect! Just before taking the kids out to put out the food, I let Jasmine out of the front door to do her doggie thing and what was standing there that did not run off? You got it, a deer. More perfect. So we are feeding the Reindeer and all is right with the Christmas world. Shortly after supper the kids went out onto the porch to see if they could spot the "red light in the sky". After they gave up, I stayed out just an extra minute and let out a "HO, HO, HO" under my breath. This stopped SJ in her tracks as she exclaimed "What was that? That was Daddy! WAIT! That was real quiet, if it was Daddy it would have been loud, THAT WAS SANTA!!!!!!" She then ran out to the porch to see what was up. I stood there for just a second, pointed to the sky and exclaimed "Oh no!!!!! What is that up in the sky, I think it's Santa!!!" The kids did not even look! They just let out the biggest "OH SHIT" scream and ran to their room and jumped in the bed! They would not stay up long enough to set out the cookies, milk, or do any of the other pre-bedtime stuff! I thought they were going to kill each other getting up the steps! SJ was shouting commands to Melson, "Hurry up, you! You are going to make Santa pass us up! Get in your bed, now!" Of course Mely has no clue why he is running his ass off, it's just loud and fun so he does it. Fletch had to stop three time to figure our what was going on and why she was running, but she had just as much fun screaming so she didn't care that she kept forgetting. I laughed for 30 minutes at the scene that has taken about 30 seconds to unfold. The last time I saw a crowd disperse like that was when I would roll up on a bunch of ghetto boys on a corner at 0100. Poof, gone. It was an effective way to clear the runway for Santa's final approach.

After Santa thought all of the kids were asleep, he began setting out presents. Then he hears two little girls laughing an carrying on as he is finishing up. So......he jingles his sleigh bells a few times and lets out a "HO, HO, HO" after eating his cookies and before making his exit. The following sound was the "Oh Shit" silence followed by the whisper yell "Get in the bed!!!" with scampering of little girl feet and the WUMP, WUMP of two little girls jumping into their beds! Of course this morning the first thing we heard was "I heard Santa! He jingled his bells and then said HO, HO, HO!!!!" Even thought Santa hit a hot LZ, he came out OK and Christmas is still intact. It was awesome.

The opening of the presents was a complete other affair that will have to wait until another blog. I'm still in shock from the event and am quite certain that I will have some form of PTSD from it!

Baby Got Back And A White Boy Got Ta Shout!

So, there I was. At the battalion formal last weekend when the dancing started. I decided it would be a good idea to go dance with Mrs. Tanisha Gary. Yeah, you read it right. Black girl, white guy. What the hell was I thinking? It was a "slow" dance and I could not keep up! Bump bump swish, bump bump swish. And I was just doing the white boy side to side shit. I was so at the prom and she was all soul train and shit. Being able to move like that, no wonder she has five kids! I'm an idiot, again. Will I ever learn? Probably not.

Moved in

We finally got mostly moved in! We even had company over last night! The tree is back up, the fire is lit (and it's real a real wood fireplace), steaks on the grill, cold beer in the fridge, and margaritas chillin' in the pitcher! Somebody give me an Old Milwaukee cause it doesn't get any better than this!

No more mold! We are so excited just to be out from under the mold factor that we could have moved into a GP medium tent and been better off! As is just so happens we are now in a house that is far above what Trish and I ever expected to live in until we retire! We are very happy here, and the children went completely ape when they saw the house today!

Since the children are now back home, I am sure that I will have plenty of great stories! Now that there are neighbors with children their age, the stories will now multiply!

Ranger Creed

Just thought I would post this for posterity.


Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high esprit de corps of my Ranger Regiment.

Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move farther, faster and fight harder than any other soldier.

Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one-hundred-percent and then some.

Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow.

Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.

Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.

Rangers Lead The Way!

No Kids, Lots of Cookie Dough!`

Trish and I have our battalion formal tomorrow night, so my children are with my sister in Birmingham. YES!!!!!!!!!! Trish over counted and bought about 4 extra packs of cookie dough! Forget the sex in whatever part of the house we want, just give me some fresh cookies and uninterrupted sleep!!!!!!! Yeah baby!

The Mold Factor, and Command

Well, we have discovered a pretty serious mold problem in our house! Not good. Trish has also found out from the allergist that she is pretty damn allergic to mold. She is now she is on two separate inhalers and other drugs. So is Mely. Great.So....... we get to move again for Christmas!

At least God has taken care of us so far and has made finding a new place very easy. The new house is just as nice as this one, if not nicer and is much cheaper! Needless to say, our lives have been topsy turvy lately. I have been either in the woods with Ranger, jumping out of some kind of aircraft, or doing something that has kept me from being at home. I am ready for Christmas leave, even if it means moving!

I recently received my "report card" on my performance. It was pretty good I guess, at least I am not getting fired. My boss told me to expect to take command of the company I am in after the first of the year! OK, totally unexpected! I think it's mostly because I am the only one available. Pretty easy choice I reckon.

The usual kid drama has been going on, but I have not recorded it since I have been gone so much. I will have to fish out some funny stories for later I guess. I am sure with Christmas coming up, there will be plenty!

Recently my buddy Matt came to visit after his return from Iraq last month. He gave some quotes from me that made him laugh. In reference to my critique of Ranger's placement of his machine guns during an ambush that occurred around 2330 or so:
"Rangers, who can tell me the maximum effective range of an M240B?"

Crickets and dumbassed tired Ranger stares in return.

"Let me break it down for you middle of the night Ranger dumb; a long god damn way!"

For some reason this made Matt laugh out loud. Apparently I am full of motivational quotes and life altering advice as I have earned the nickname "Dr. Phil" from some of the men. Great. I hope I get to keep the hair though.

Airbor-OUCH!!!!!

It has been quite a while since my last post, but it has still been adventerous around here. Back in November during our jump, I had a bout with the wind and the ground; I lost! Judging from the point of impact, I nearly suffered extreme brain damage. I must have to some degree because for some dumb ass reason, I jumped again a week later. Idiot. Luckily, that one turned out much better.

This was taken a little less than a week later. It grew to about half again that size. Ouch!! It's still fun though!

The Jesus Poop

Tonight Mely took a particularly nasty poop. About 15 minutes later, he surpassed that one with another even nastier one.

ME: "Mely, do you have poop?"

Mel: "Noooooo"

Me: "Let me check" then inserting my thumb into the top of the diaper to pull it away from his backside to inspect for poop as is the usual SOP for a poop check.

Me: "JESUS CHRIST!!!!! Oh my God that's nasty! Freakin' butt pudding!" I now have a thumb covered in poop. Kind of like a poopcicle, or more like I had just scraped the cake batter bowl with my thumb. Good thing I had already eaten supper, the Mexican hamburger pie would not have gone down so well after that!

Losing a Testicle, and the other one is useless

If you don't know, I now live in the mountains. Today was cold. Not just cold, but the kind of cold that makes your nose hurt when you open the door. Today, I decided to PT in the cold in shorts and a T shirt in order to be the hard Ranger that I am. I think I left a testicle on one of the trails I decided to run. A frost bitten nut cleverly now disguised as a pebble. Tomorrow promises to be colder. I guess I will then be nutless. At least not much is lost. I think I am going to invent some ball warmers.

So, in the middle of this of this blog the song "Afternoon Delight" came on. I particularly like this song because, well, it fits our lifestyle. So, I thought I would be cool and turn up the music and get frisky. It failed. I jumped on the bed trying to be all cool and shit, and ended up elbowing Trish in the ankle causing an injury that was impossible to overcome for interest in sex. Then I used my rationale that it was "Afternoon" in that it was past noon and not yet midnight. Yeah, I got about as far as Amelia Earhart did across the ocean, not very. So as a result I am typing about it on this blog. Ole One Nut did not do so well. I guess I had better start a search and rescue mission in the morning. Can they re-attach a nut if it has been frozen the whole time?

Vans, Fish, and A Trip Home

So, last week, I became a married man in a minivan. Damn. The one cool point I had, just got revoked. I am now actually a minus 10 cool points because I LIKE the minivan! So, Trish decided she wanted a Honda Odyssey. So we got one. I will admit that due to all of her hard work and research, we got one hell of a deal. One of the primary reasons we got the van was to separate the kids so no one could touch each other. Yeah, that worked. Trish installed the portable DVD player to where the girls had to share a screen that is about 4x5 inches at best, and Mely got his own. Immediately, SJ scoots her ass over so she can see the screen. Yep, you guessed it, touching. Mely is with in foot reach of the back of my seat. Yep, touching. So not only do we have the touching drama still going on, now I can't even rock my Fergie "Big Girls Don't Cry" (hey, it comes with the minivan territory, back off!) because I am competing with that bitch assed Barbie and her "Prince and the Pauper" movie. Basically, some prince gives some poor bitch some money and he gets ass happily ever afer, fairy tale whore story. Now turn the movie off! I've some Fergie to listen to.

So, we cruzing down I-85, well, ok, we are sitting still in ATL traffic, and the kids are going ape shit because we are going to the grandparents house. But Trish and I got somthin' for dat ass! After numerous warnings, Trish undoes her seatbelt, moves to the back between the quad seats, administers ass beatings to all of the children, moves back to her seat and re-buckles before the kids even know they had ther asses beaten! The look on their face was priceless! It was like "Oh, shit! I didn't see that coming with this new van! I don't like this thing anymore! Damn, I didn't know Mom could move like that, I swear Flash just whooped my ass!"

The kids, and me, somehow survive this ordeal called a drive home. The next morning we strike out on a fishing trip that Fletch has been begging to go on for about two months now. She is all happy, until she has to walk throught the tall grass to get to the pond. Motivation begins to decline. I catch the first fish in less than five minutes. The girls scream and yell, jump up and down, and are so excited that we caught a fish. Then I pull the fish out of the water and they both run like I had just extracted Jaws from the deep and he had legs! They both refuse to touch the fish and Fletch begins to cry because she thinks I am going to make her touch the fish, and it has a hook in it's mouth. So much for the hopes of my princesses being outdoor queens. I only caught two fish, but I was asked "Did you get one Daddy?" about 1,000 times. I don't know how many times SJ thought my plastic worm was fish. "Daddy! Daddy! You got one! Oh, it's just the worm." God bless her. Fletcher just played in the dirt the rest of the time. But she had fun. Mely just broke shit and threw rocks at the fish. Cool.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Watched LSU beat Bama, went to church, came back to Dahlonega. Fortunately, no beatings on the way home.

Good Soldier, Bad Cop

Yesterday I took my family to my battalion's Trick or Treat/Halloween party. It was great fun! Trish and I decided to dress ourselves up to join in the fun with the kids. Trish made Melson a prisoner out fit and she and I wore a couple of my old Sheriff/Police uniforms. I trained Mely to tell everyone "I'm doin' life." It was really cute! Anyway, on the way to the party, S.J. says, "Daddy, you sure have a lot of badges! But you have A LOT of cool badges on your Army uniform! I guess it's a good thing that you are in the Army now because you must be a much better Soldier that you were a police!"

Yes, Dad sucks again. My life's failures pointed out by someone who was only 7 months old when I left policing. Nothing like a shot to the ego from your 7 year old.

Rainy Night In Georgia

Last night was the first cold wet night I have spent in the field in a long time! It sucked major ass. It started raining the night before I went to walk patrols with students and stopped about the time for me to come home this morning. About midnight, I threw in my bitch towel. I went to the command post (CP) and put on some dry clothes and some rain gear. I even slept on a cot under a poncho hooch. Yeah, it's good to NOT be a Ranger student. I just wanted to share that with whoever reads this.

This bad part is, this is not even cold yet!

Toys

I finally got my new toy. A motorcycle! Yeah, I'm an American Bad Ass now! I felt really cool at the dealer when this 65 year old black lady was next me buying her new bike. She has been riding for years and was just trading in her old one. Out ridden by Grannie. I mean she had grey hair and was wobbly when she walked, but she jumped on the ole' iron horse and rode off like she was 20. I was ashamed, because I almost wrecked pulling out of the parking lot!

It's a good thing I don't live somewhere like Dahlonega, GA where there are REALLY curvy mountain roads. Oh, wait.......I'm fooked!

The Wild Kingdom

This past weekend my oldest daughter learned of a new breed of animal. But first, you must know the origin of this new species, which is now extinct, before it would make sense. Way back in the day I had a black lab named Trooper, who is now dead, and the Yorkie that I still have named Jasmine. Many moons (or mooms as some would call it) ago I gave Jazz the nickname "Shitbird", because she is. One day Trooper did something rather Shitbirdish, but I could not call him Shitbird because that was Jazzy's name, and he was just to big. So, I dubbed him, Shit Ox. Yes, Shit Ox. Trish laughed for an hour and the name stuck.

When we finally got our computer, I made the password "Trooper". Under the password hint my clue was simply, "Shit Ox". Friday afternoon Sarah-Joy was trying to get on to the computer and kept spelling Trooper wrong, so she clicked on the password hint. Yes, it still says "Shit Ox". Out of the blue she comes to me while I am watching TV and says "Daddy, I was trying to get on the computer".....I am totally oblivious to what is coming......"and I had to type on the password hint and it just says Shit Ox."

I fell out of my chair.

I was in total shock. My little princess just said Shit Ox like she has been using the term for years.

Then I found myself holding back the urge to laugh my ass off because it was the funniest thing ever!

Then I began to feel guilty for being the parent of the year. I walked upstairs to help her get on the computer, trying my damnedest to keep from explaining what a Shit Ox is, only to find that Trish was in the room when SJ discovered it and said the same thing to her. She saw my face and started laughing like crazy! She told SJ that she would have to come to me to get the explanation and to fix the computer. What a turd!

The password hint is still Shit Ox.

Those Alone

1) Feeding the Reigndeer
2) How an Army Wife receives her presents. Wraped in contractors paper with 550 Cord and 100mph tape!

I am not sure why I started thinking of this the other day, but it just hit me. I have spent many a Holiday Season away from family and friends, even when I was at home. I remember my first Christmas as a Police Officer. It was DEC of 95. I volunteered to work Christmas Eve so the married men could go home with their families. It had to be the loneliest, quietest night ever. Even though I was just across town from everyone I knew, I was miles away. As I was walking my assigned area that was mandatory to check on foot, I absorbed the silence. There was not another soul around, no cars driving by, no sirens, the radio barely even squawked that night. While I was out protecting the town, everyone else was at home, sleeping, putting out Santa gifts, and getting ready for the big festive day of Christmas. I knew that when I got done with work, I would go home, sleep, maybe get a few gifts from Mom and Dad, a little chow, and then back to work. The air was cold that night, but really fresh and clean. You could smell the pine sent from all of the Frazier Fur trees that decorated the area. As the wind drifted I could smell the pleasant odor of turkeys cooking in peoples ovens and some on smokers that were outside. Then as I was thinking about how lonely it was to be in my position, I came across a local vagrant named Jeremy. He was hanging out under one of the bridges near the old railroad station. He was cold, probably hungry, and definitely dirty. As far as I knew this man had no family to speak of and I never saw him speak to anybody. He seemed so alone. Miserable. Pitiful. I wondered how many people don't notice the beautiful lights of Christmas, the smells in the air. I wondered how many people don't feel the peace of Christ on the Silent Night. No, I did not do the hero thing and give him a blanket and some money, I'm not that big of a man and Jeremy would not have taken it anyway. Instead, he just said "Merry Christmas Officer Phillips"

"Merry Christmas Jeremy. You doing OK out here tonight?"

"Yes, sir! This is my home, I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking."

"Goodnight Jeremy"

"Goodnight Boss"

And that was that. I was left to ponder my thoughts for the rest of the night until I got into a fight with a drunk driver. Then my concern for my fellow man went straight back into the ditch.
This was the Christmas story of my life for seven years. Hey kids, Santa can't come tonight. He's got to go bail your Daddy out of jail. Oh yeah, he spent Christmas dinner money on beer, so you will have to eat Raman noodles again tonight. Merry Christmas.

I have spent two Christmases in combat in Iraq. While there during the holiday season I longed for the Christmas lights of home. The cold air. The friendliness of people in general, the fun of giving gifts to people you care about. I wondered how my children were doing and if Santa was going to treat them right. I wondered what their faces would look like when they woke up Christmas morning and saw what Santa had brought them. It was the loneliest feeling I have ever felt. However, at the same time there was a whole bunch of Soldiers who felt just as lonely as I did. We had our own Christmas party. It was called "combat operations". The camaraderie that is developed when you spend such a special time sucking it up with a group of brothers in arms is overwhelming. I'll never forget how I spent Christmas Eve of 2003. My platoon had been ordered to conduct a convoy operation from the Turkish border back down to Mosul. Christmas Eve day we left Mosul and drove to Zacko, Iraq to link up with our civilian logistical convoy. This was a last minute mission, so there was no time to call home and wish everyone a Merry Christmas, just grab your shit and go. Once there in Zacko, which is a majority Christian area, I found out there was a Christmas Eve service we could attend. I though it would be conducted by the Chaplain of the small base that was there, but it was actually a local church. I just assumed that the church would be Protestant, Greek Orthodox or such but nope. Assyrian Catholic. My first Catholic Mass, in Hajj land. Yeah......wow.

So, the priest looks like the typical old Catholic Priest. Dude looked like he probably knew Jesus personally he was so old. He had white hair, a head that was the size of a watermelon and bad teeth. He was mumbling some chant "Hayayayayay, Eyayayaay, Ayayayaya yayaaaaaaaa" and then would fall asleep for about 30 seconds while the choir echoed in response. The repeated this shit for about an hour. The second Hajj in charge was running around light candles and doing various other tasks, like touching boys. (Not really.) Then here comes this other priestlet apprentice looking cat walking down the aisle between the pews swing the "smoke ball". Now this was not your average smoke ball, this thing was the size of a basketball and must have had a bonfire inside because it was producing a fog cloud of incense smoke. It was so think that the whole congregation started choking and coughing. However His Oldness just kept on chanting and sleeping, never missed a beat.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a start appeared on the wall behind Oldie, Ahhhh, the star of Christ! Holy smokes! (No pun intended, ok, maybe some.) Here come Mary, Joseph, and a REAL Hajjlet that is supposed to be Jesus! The Christmas story! Sweet! I know this one! So, here come the Shepherds, carrying a real live lamb! Yeah, ole' Trinity United Methodist Church in Opelika, AL ain't never stepped up the plate like that. This was cool! The wise men actually had Frankincense and Mir. While we were relearning the story of the birth of Christ, I noticed this barrel full of twigs. I said to myself, "Self, wouldn't it be funny if Hajji lit that shit on fire in church!" Well right after the whole Christmas party surrounded Jesus, sub priest one torched the twigs! Now the smoke in the church is doubled, flames are reaching the top of the church, and I am scared shitless in a house of God! Old dude is still chanting, not missing a beat. I have talked to every Catholic priest and Protestant man of the cloth and can not find anyone who knows the answer as to what the burning twigs was all about. Maybe because Joe and Mary were homeless bums and all homeless bums keep warm with barrel fires? I have no idea. But it was by far the COOLEST Christmas Eve service EVER!!!!! It was a good thing that the church was made of 100% concrete, if it would have been my home church that would have been the first and last bum barrel fire for Christmas. Ashes to ashes, still ashes. Even the mighty Opelika Fire Department would not be able to save that place if it caught on fire! I'm still gonna have to get them to try it!

My second Christmas in Iraq was not nearly as sexy. My boss just went around yelling all pissed off, telling everyone that we were pussies for going to church, especially on Christmas. He actually said "At Christmas I am supposed to be home with my kids sitting by a fire. Since I can't, I am going to make every body's day shitty!" What a jack ass. I would have much preferred the barrel fire and the real lamb in a language I can't understand.

I'm glad I will be home for Christmas this year. I plan on having a great time with the kids and fully immersing myself in Holiday Cheer! Merry Christmas, Bitches!!!!!!! Or for my Latino Amigos "Felice Navidad, Beeeechez!!!"

It runs in the family

Readers, (all three of you)


The last nine days we have been without Internet connectivity! I have forgotten more blog material than Carter's got little liver pills.

Just for the record, screw Windstream and Dahlonega. What I really think happened is the squirrel on the treadmill they use to power their server had to have his annual vacation. Assholes. I gots bills to pay and shit! Howmy gwanna gits my shit ifs I don't got no inta net?

So, more crazy stuff has happened in the last nine days. I'll fill you in. One Saturday evening my sister Beth was here. So we decided we would go downtown and look around and have dinner at a local Italian place. (Pro-nounced: eye-tal-yon). All was good as I was walking downtown with Mel and Fletch waiting on Beth and Trish to show up. Mel, Fletch, and I were looking at all of the fall displays and a couple of forty pound pumpkins, it really was pretty neat. Well, we see Beth and Trish ride by so we take off for the restaurant. Fletch gets all excited and twirls around in a circle, ending her death spin with a solid, square, earth shattering full fist shot to the cods. OUCH!!!!!!!! Involuntarily, I screamed. And doubled over. Fletch immediately starts apologizing. That's sweet, but you just cracked my nuts, again. People are staring. It was a bit embarrassing. After I gain my composure and start to walk off, a lady with her kids stops me and asks "Sir, are you OK?" "Yes ma'am. My daughter just has impeccable aim." "Oh. I'm sorry!" I felt like an ass.

So, we get to the restaurant and we are still waiting on Beth and Trish. Fletch decides to show me the shorts under her skirt. So she rips all of the snaps open and says "Look Daddy! It's really shorts under here, not my panties!" I'm going home now, and these are not my kids. I swear they are my sisters, she'll be here in a minute.

Seriously?! A nut punch and strip tease within a 15 minute window! I guess all the girls in my house think my junk is a punching bag. It runs in the family I guess.

Speaking Too Soon

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF YOU HAVE NOT READ TO PREVIOUS BLOG POST, READ IT FIRST OR THIS ONE WILL NOT MAKE AS MUCH SENSE!!!!!!

Well, when I posted my last blog today, I apparently spoke too soon. If you remember the cob statement, well....I now have a corn cob in my ass! At least it's not sideways, yet.

So, after Trish got home and we unloaded all of the groceries that she brought home, it was time for dinner. After everyone had eaten and we are trying to have family conversation, it somehow seems to my children that it is time to climb all over Daddy and tell him of all his immediate faults. Such as "Daddy, your breath smells like old root beer!" It must have been the results of my two medicinal beers. Of course she does not leave the area in which I am breathing, but remains there. Only to tell me how bad my breath smells. Oh, by the way, she is only wearing panties, and the chicken soup and ham and cheese sandwich that she had for supper. Meanwhile, Mel is playing with his big truck toy. He is making his truck jump the Grand Canyon or something and needed to emphasise the landing by stomping on my big toe. Yes, of course, on my left foot. Now, I need a third medicinal beer. About two minutes later, Fletch is playing with this damn Dora The Explorer "sing along, learn to read and count" maraca while sitting back at her place at the table. In typical Fletcher fashion, she drops it. Right onto my big toe. At least this time, it's on my right foot. To hell with some beer, I'm moving on to scotch! Believe it or not, this maraca hurt twice as bad as Mely's stomp on the toe. I felt like a broken bitch. Mommies feel the pain of birth, Daddies feel the pain eternal.

And the hits just keep on comin'. So, I thought I would be the hero Dad and help Trish out by taking a bath with Mel. I make a big gigantic bubble bath for us to play in. All is well and Trish comes to check on her boys. Trish and I are talking about how great our kids are while Mel is playing in the bubbles with is HMMWV (HUM-V for you civilian types). Yes, I know, this is a STUPID maneuver seeing as how the rest of my day has been. Mel starts getting all Dukes Of Hazard with the toy HMMWV and just about smashes my "boys" with it. I look straight at Trish and say "Great. All I need at the end of a day like to day is a hummer to the balls!" Yeah, she laughed. Oh, it gets better. After the bath is over and I step out of the hot water, Trish looks at my junk and says "Man! They didn't hang like that when we first got married, that's cool!" Then she proceeds to bend over, making fists with both hands, and begins to mock the Rocky Balboa speed bag drill on my nuts. Badugada, badugada, badugada.........She actually said "Badugada, badugada, badugada" while she did it. I have no pride left. I'm just gonna have two scotches and go to bed.

RLTW, or do they?

Hard Landings and Milkyways

Sometimes things go smooth as silk, other times they are rough as a cob. Sometimes it feel like the cob is being inserted into your rectum. My day today was not that bad, but it did get a little shitty at the end. I woke up this morning just fine and went in to do my Sustained Airborne Training prior to today's jump. All goes well. We're all out to the Drop Zone and all is going well, but we are down to one helicopter instead of two, no big deal it will just take longer. Then the winds pick. Not bad, until one jackass somehow manages to get himself into the trees. With a steerable parachute. How the hell do you do that? Dude STEERED into the trees, on the back side of the drop zone, completely away from the drop zone. Thank goodness he was not hurt, he just had to play monkey and climb down 40 feet from the top of the tree. Then the next guy to win the even bigger jackass award lands on the roof of a barn in the middle of the DZ. C'mon! There is plenty of room on that DZ! He went through a tree and did an ass landing on the roof. I guess he is practicing for his Delta Force "roof down" assault. Dumb ass. He held up the whole jump operation for 20 minutes while people untangled his ass and chute from trees and barn. At least jackass #1 was kind enough to be off the DZ so we could continue! Then I jump, great exit, nice decent, then I lose air as I prepare to land, and hit like a sack of shit! Ouch! So now I have a left knee that is a bit sore, but I'm OK. Nothing a beer and some ibuprofen can't fix.

So, after my hard day at the office, I come home to an empty house minus the happy dog. She comes and jumps up and down to get my attention, so I pick her up and love on her a minute prior to taking her outside to do her bid-ness. She does and we come back inside. As I am preparing my medicinal beer, I see on the floor, near where she was jumping up and down, a smushed milkyway that my son must have gotten a hold off and just mashed it up. He does that sometimes. So, I pick it up, and all of a sudden the milkyway develops a distinct dog shit odor! FUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!! I JUST PICKED UP A DOG TURD!!!!! BAREHANDED! So after I clean up the "milkyway" I discover three "raisenettes" in the vicinity of where the "milkyway" was. Damn. Man, this just ain't my day. I'm having two beers. And I'm not eating anymore milkyways or raisenettes, ever.

Redemption

Yesterday I totally redeemed myself from the password journal by being the best Daddy ever. As the kids got home from drama practice and doing their usual 15 minute trip from the car to the house, Trish came in and gave me the heads up that SayJay was all upset because of the part assignments that were given out for the upcoming play. When Trish showed me the cast list, I stared at it in wonderment of how my daughter was selected to play 1) a dragon and 2) A knight! Never mind the question of how can you play a knight and a dragon? Would that mean that you would have to slay yourself? I digress. The real kick to the jimmies is that Fletch got assigned the part of the "Sweetest Princess". Ouch!!! Trish is begging me to figure out a way to soothe SayJay's feelings since she is so bummed about getting "boy" parts. I have no clue what to do and about 30 seconds to figure it out since Sir Dragon was on her way up the sidewalk. The only thing that popped into my head was that dragons could be female too and I would show her the movie Shrek to prove it. As she walked in the door, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I immediately made a really big deal of the fact that she was assigned TWO parts and that only the really super good actresses got assigned two parts! Her face beamed immediately and she was suddenly proud to be a dragon and a knight! DADDY ROCKS!!!!!!

Slay 'em up girl!!!!!!!!

RLTW

More death to the Password Journal

Yeah, I am making Phillips History tonight baby! Due to my skeewlz in computer technology, guess where I'm bloggin' from now? You got it, the Crapper dawgz!!!! Can't do that with a Password Journal! Now 'skewz me whilst I surf the net............

RLTW

The technological failures of Daddy

Today I achieved a computer/automation first. I properly installed a wireless connection in my home. I am now using the wireless laptop to write this blog. Then, after accomplishing such a fantastic feat such as this, my seven year old totally wrecks my newly earned self esteem by asking me to help her get started with her brand new password journal.

Today my 7 year old made her very first purchase all on her own with her own money. She has been wanting a password journal for about two years now. She finally saved enough money to go buy it. Trish and I took her to Wal-Mart (aka Hell) where she picked it out herself and carried it for the duration of the shopping trip. After much screaming from Mely and Fletch, Mely kicking Fletch in the eye, Mely pulling stuff from shelves and the usual Hell trip with three kids, we made it to the check out counter. SayJay purchased her journal seperate from the rest of the family's items and even pulled the money from her very own purse. I was so proud of her, she is such a big girl now. There were three ladies behind us in line who were looking on with big grins and just getting a kick out of this little girl who was acting so big. So we then went to the car and went home where I went to the bathroom to change into my superhero costume, Idiot Man, and I begin the journey with the little pink thing called a Password Journal.

I'm thinking, no issue, just put some batteries and away we go. While SayJay is washing her ass, I take the initiative to install the batteries so it will be set up for her to use as soon as she gets out, right. Hell naw! As soon as I put in the last battery, this damn thing starts talking to me and giving me more commands than a drill sergeant! In short, I fucked it all up and thing would not do anything that I wanted/needed it to do. Of course I'm now getting all pissed at this pink thing and here comes my daughter. Immediately she goes into hysterics because she KNOWS that I have just jacked up her new toy that she spent HER hard earned money on. Dude, I suck. I calm her down from her initial conniption fit long enough to get her to sit with me on the sofa with the instructions. Well, as luck would have it, we followed the instruction to a T. The password journal spoke to us and told us everything shy of "fuck off". I still suck. SayJay falls completely apart, can't eat dinner because she is so upset, Fletch just says with all the attitude she can muster "You will just have to deal with it!", Mely is banging away at the table with his fork tossing his chicken and rice all over the place, and Trish just puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. Yay Daddy!!!! After about 10 minutes of refusals to eat, crying, sobbing, and generally feeling sorry for ourselves, I took SayJay back into the den and we settled in my big chair to fix this journal from hell. After about 15 minutes of trying and retrying, we get it right! The password works, the alarm works, and the UV light that comes with the "Don't look at this light or you will go blind" warning works, so all is now good. After all of my humiliation and sacrifice, I have redeemed myself, for about 10 seconds. SayJay then begins dancing and shouting "I fixed it! I fixed it! I got it to work Mommy, look!" I suck again! So, I take my defeated chicken and rice covered self back upstairs and revel in the fact that I can now use a wireless internet connection 6 feet away from my desktop just because I can. Take that you evil password journal!

RLTW

Marine Wives, Dead People, and Taxes Vs. Texas

During our recent visit Trish and I experiences another "Christie Phenomenon". Which simply simply means that someone across the street from us died. Seriously, just died. Let me take you back to about FEB 07. Christie and her husband are living next door to Trish and I on Fort Benning, GA while attending a school there. Well, one evening they come banging on our door telling us to come watch the action across the street. After the MP's storm troop the house, well more like Key Stone Cop/Three Ring Circus the house, they discovered that some new 2LT had murdered his wife and killed himself. Very tragic incident indeed. Somehow I had a feeling Christie's presence was the "drama magnet". I had nothing to back that up, until last week. Trish and I checked in to our hotel after we arrived at Brian and Christie's, and no shit, ONE HOUR LATER some old dude takes the long nap right outside our balcony across the street. Paramedics and everything. The people that walked by were like "Dude, a dead guy. Cool, let's go surf." Trish and I just took pictures and critiqued their CPR. We're so going to hell. Especially if these paramedics are doing the CPR! So we called Christie on the phone and asked her WTF and how does she have the power to make people die so much. When she figured out I was serious, that there was for real a dead dude across the street she replied "OOOOO! OK, I'm almost there! I am around the corner!" At which time I heard tires squalling both over the phone and down the street. Girl meant she wasn't going to miss nothin'. So she makes it up there and goes bananas because she forgot her ever present camera, but she calmed down and enjoyed the show when she found out that Trish had already taken pictures. Three grown adults watching a poor dead dude being worked on like it was the first R rated movie we had ever seen.

I braved the elements and took my three kids to eat Chinese and then to Kohl's today. The conversation between my 7 and 4 year old girls was absolutely riveting. At about 1230 SayJay: "Wouldn't it be cool if we moved back to Fort Campbell, and I could see Mrs Barlow again?" Fletch: "Yeah, and you could see Caroline again too!" SayJay: "No, she moved to Texas." Now it's 1330 and the girls and I are in the car waiting on Trish and Mel to come out of the Chinese place while we are listening to the blues station on XM radio. The lyrics come across "........that's what I pay my taxes fo....." Fletch: " Taxes, what's a taxes?" SayJay: "No dummy, she moved to TEXAS, not TAXES!" Fletch: "Oh". Were the hell in SayJays mind she got that we were still talking about Caroline an hour later when nobody had even mentioned her name, I have no idea. And how Fletch accepted that answer without even saying "WTF?" to SayJay, I have no idea. See what I have to live with? But the good new is, is that I got some new shoes and a pair of workout pants out of the deal.

Later on in Target: SayJay to Trish while buying SayJay the pair of boots she had a flying shitfit over: "Mommy, you are so good at shopping for me! And Daddy, well he's good at....at.....at....KILLING!" Great. Now I'm the Great While Killer, in the middle of Target. At least we got quick check out service!

RLTW

Flying Boobies and SOCAL sun

My wife and I just returned from our 10 year anniversary trip to San Clemente, CA. We visited some Marine Corps friends of ours that we met while in Fort Benning, GA. We had an absolute blast! While we were there, Trish and I went skydiving! Hence the flying boobies!This was her first time jumping from an aircraft, and she did fantastic! She will now be the hero bad ass mommy of all the mommies in mommy group! I love my wifey!


Our friend Christie that we visited is always Mrs. Squared away. Never forgets a thing, never misses a single detail. Ever. Until now. She is pregnant, and like most expectant mommies, her baby is sucking her brain out through the umbilical cord. She drove us the airport this morning in San Diego. 7 years of police work, 6 years in the Army with two combat tours to Iraq did not prepare me for riding with a knocked up chick at 0530 in San Diego!!! She got lost, twice, drove the wrong way down a one way street, did five U-turns in the middle of major intersections, ran a couple of red lights, about killed a dude working in a man hole, and made me have to take a dump immediately upon entering the airport. Which did not work out so well since we were now running late and the security line was stretched all the way out to Mexico! Danged red heads! But poetic justice struck, she got lost 4 times on the way home!!! I love Christie like my own sister. She has always been super nice to me and my fam. I would give her the shirt off of my back, but riding in a car with her just plain scares the shit out of me!


So, on the plane ride home there is this little girl, who seemed to be about two. Screamed. The whole four hours. Mom, she just sat there. Really. Did absolutely nothing. I have never wanted to punch a kid before until today. I thought about throwing the kid out of the plane along with the mom and the other four kids she had! And then there was the lesbian couple that sat in front of Trish and I. Wonderful. It might would have been ok if they looked like the ones on TV, but not so much. One kind of looked like an even worse version of Cher and the other looked like she could have been some one's brother. I have never seen a worse figure on a girl, she even had plumber's crack! Of course she seems to think that girls really can wear a man's pants. Yes, she can, but they made her butt look like a band of gypsies moved out! Not so flattering on men, and even worse on a girl. I had nightmares last night because of this image. I thought that the point of being a lez-bean was that you liked girls. So why would you pick out a partner that looked like a man? I don't pretend to be smart enough to figure this stuff out, I'm kind of like Robot on Lost In Space, "It does not compute Will Robinson, does not compute!"

So we landed at ATL airport, on the Pilot's second attempt at landing. Yeah, he jacked up the first one. He must have been a Marine Pilot. I'm sorry, I mean a Naval Aviator. Trish and I are walking through the airport all happy and shit, I mean we are California happy, smiling, laughing, just having fun. People are looking at us like "What rawng wit dem? Dey dun loss dey fool ass mine!" or "OMGYG! Happy people! EWW!" most people just looked like someone had just killed their dog. Welcome home, bitches. We made it to the baggage claim and then to our car in record time. Then, we hit ATL traffic. Someone just killed my dog. If God sends me to hell, I'm pretty sure it will just be to ATL everyday during rush hour. The only thing worse would be ATL rush hour while riding with Christie!!

RLTW

Airborne Ops and Broken Elbows

This past Friday I made my first jump since Airborne School in 2002, almost five years to the day. I am proud to say, all went well! I forgot the exhilaration of jumping from a perfectly good aircraft and floating to the earth hearing nothing but the wind in the chute. It is awesome.

My middle daughter, who is more than accident prone, decided to break her elbow this past week. For now she only has a splint on it, but the cast is forthcoming next week. I can't figure that one out, but I'm not a doctor. Now that she has the hard splint on it, she regards it as extra protection and deems it necessary to bang it on EVERYTHING!!! Either that or she just falls on it. She fell in it in the doctors office, in front of the doctor! I mean, she fell on his feet! Of course, this is the girl who trips over the small space between the tiles of a school house floor. She is by far one of the smartest kids I know when it comes to reading and math, but can't walk 10 feet without falling down or running in to something. She had stitches in her face at 2 years old. Thank the Lord for insurance.

My oldest daughter just turned 7 Sunday. I think someone gave her a bag of attitude for her birthday! I called her name yesterday only to hear "Yeah, hold on!" Excuse me? I didn't know that Kim Possible out ranked Daddy! Boy, am I a dumb ass, I guess I better get on the knowledge train and start figuring this stuff out. I wonder what else I don't know? But, little miss independent still cried when Mommy went out of town today and has begged to sleep with Daddy because she misses Mommy. So, now I will have two little princesses in the bed with me for the next two nights which means about zero sleep for me. Since the one with the splint will be next to me, undoubtedly beating the stew out of me with it all night long. Maybe I will just sleep on the floor.

Tomorrow ought to be exciting with Daddy trying to get two little girls ready for school! Fortunately, my mother has taken my son for the next few days to help me out, so I can at least go to work and earn a living. I am sure that my girls will go to school wearing God knows what with their hair in some kind of crazy pony tail looking like a biker dude, and still covered in breakfast. Sucks to be them.

RLTW

No hair dryer?! Who's in the fireplace?

It's Sunday morning and no church today. My wife is out town and she took the hair dryer! How am I supposed to get two little princesses ready for church with no freaking hair dryer? I feel pretty sure that she did not expect me to even entertain the idea of wrestling three kids to church all by my lonesome, oh well. I guess God will have to wait until next week. Maybe he will understand, after all, he created the little turds! (Turd is an affectionate term in my house.)

My 2 year old son, M, is now climbing in the fireplace! Literally climbing all the way in, sitting down and pulling the screen curtain closed. What a jackass! I hope that when the gas logs finally get installed he does not try that! I threatened beatings if he did it again, but he is my son, so it went in one ear and out the other. Of course my oldest, SJ, is the informer and not so much the enforcer. "Daddy! M is in the fireplace!!" "Well, get him out." "But Daddy, he doesn't listen to me!" "SJ, get your brother out of the fireplace!" Yet again, another item to add to the list of things I never thought I would hear myself say. Like, "F, stop licking that car!" She has a bad habit of licking cars when it rains. "Get your finger out of your sisters butt" is another favorite. I teach students in an Army school for a living right now, and I am not sure if I talk to my kids like the students or if I talk to students like my kids, but here is a similarity that happens daily at both places. "Get dressed! Hurry up! FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO........" Hurry up and eat! Finish those eggs before getting up from the table, you wanted 'em, now eat 'em, ONE, TWO THREE......" "What did I say? Didn't I just tell you not to do that? Then why in the WORLD did you do it? Are you brain dead or just trying to make me crazy?" "Hey, we are on your time, if you don't finish you don't get......." See what I mean, it's all the same. Even "WOW! You stink! Go get a bath/shower now! And brush your teeth!" But, I love doing both. It's lots of fun and there is always something to laugh about.

So, I am investigating this guy at work for beating his old lady, kids, and every other female he has been involved with in the past 15 years. This guy has more of a crap trail than the honey truck on Camp Victory, Iraq! What a tool! I found where this guy has beaten up a couple of his wives and even plead guilty to beating up a 13 year old boy that was not his!!!!! Anyway, I spent all of this time gathering evidence and basically doing what should have been done years ago to put this guy out of Army, only to take the case file to the prosecuting attorneys to have the department chief tell me he is overworked and understaffed and did not have time to Courts Martial this guy. The SOB did not even look at ANY of the evidence I had put together, he said "I have heard about this case, I know all about it." I hope some adult kicks the shit out of one of his kids one day and he has a daughter that marries an abusive man. (Not really, but it would be poetic justice.) I did not bother to tell him the last time I was overworked and understaffed I was also under fire in 130 degree heat and did not have any sympathy for him at all. I need to go to law school so I can get paid for sitting around in a AC'ed office and telling people what they CAN'T do. This guy will make a great DA one day, only take the cases that are a slam dunk so you can have a 100% conviction rate. After all, DA's are politicians.

This blog thing is cool. You can talk about people! So if your name is Jeff, you are the chief of a criminal law section in a JAG office in the Army, go jump in the local river and float away like the turd that you are. (Note: the use of the term "turd" in not in an affectionate manner here.)

RLTW,
rmeman

Starters

People, or most likely, me. Tonight is my cherry poppin' for blogin'. Don't have much to say other than I have the kids for three days alone for the first time ever. Been in Iraq twice, not near as scary. I have no idea how the wife does it for a year at a time. FUCK that!

Nah, really the kids are great, my son is the shit! At two the dude knows how to mack on all the girls, from 1.5 to 45, he does not dircriminate. That is awesome! Loves tits. At two years old you can get away with grabbing random titties, but Dad, not so much. I would get slapped, kicked in the nuts and divorced. In that order. I wish I was two.

I'll have more to say later when I get comfortable with this shit. If you happen to hit on this weak assed blog, send me a reply of what you want to talk about.

RLTW