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.