The word is…

…there is no word.

Just kidding 🙂 that was the joke during the initial travel on my first deployment a couple years ago. We were stranded in horrible transient tents for a couple days and we kept having to meet up every few hours to find out if we had a flight yet. Time after time our little group commander would say “the word is” and we’d all chorus “THERE IS NO WORD!”

So I left home on Monday, thinking that my flight left America at 0245 on Tuesday. When we got to that particular transient point we found out that we weren’t leaving there til that time, but on Wednesday. So my wingman and I got rooms at billeting on base and proceeded to find a sports bar. Leaving home was difficult, as always. Everytime i looked into Charlies’ goopy black eyes i started to tear up.. So then he would get upset, and Nona would start fussing, and i’d cuddle them both. Then i’d really start crying.

Half my squadron showed up at the airport to see me off which was really touching. Except for my bestfriend was outside with my dogs and everyone that came to wish me well was inside with the AC. I was scrambling for a polite way to tell them ‘hey thanks for coming but i’d rather hang out with my dogs and bff in the 90+ degree weather where I can at least smoke and be miserable in quiet’ for about 20 minutes until my boss came out and saved me. I was doing an okay job of not getting emotional as i was walking around with my puppies until some dumb bitch came up and started crooning at them about how their mommy was leaving and how sad that they didn’t understand, did they puppywuppyschwuppy. My boss kept cracking jokes about how i’d miss them more than i’d miss her or my bff.. of course that’s not true, but i do sleep with my dogs a whole lot more than i’ve slept with either of them (make that zero times) and so therefore i’m pretty attached. Plus, i’m the coolest thing in the world in their opinion, and i need to stop writing about them because i’m getting sad again.

Anyways. We have a layover in Shannon, Ireland and i’m kiiiiind of excited. While i am probably going to be the only loser in the bar that orders a Budlight in Ireland, i’m willing to own up to that shame. I love it’s taste. For awhile, a few months ago, i drank it so often that i’m convinced my tongue was permanently coverd with it’s buttery goodness. Mmm. It’s going to be a long deployment without that particular vice ‘o mine ladies and gentlemen (like that Irish brogue? yep, I’m practicing!) I’ve promised a couple people that i will try a real Guiness, because apparently it tastes nothing like the nasty burnt-coffee version that they sell to us silly people in the States. Have you ever noticed that the piss beer in a country is usually extremely popular in others? I totally didn’t realize that the my-garbage-your-treasure rule applied to beers, but i’m starting to believe it. Like in Australia, Fosters is garbage, kind of like America’s Nattylight, or even worse, PBR. And while American’s love that stupid Mexican beer called Corona, most people that actually live there wouldn’t touch it with Bill Clinton’s weewee. Just saying.

A lovely thing i discovered earlier while i was urinating — the cute pink w/ white hearted underwear i chose for this leg of the trip have been tagged by my dogs. Thanks kids, as if i needed more ruined panties to ensure i wouldn’t forget you!

well everyone, i’m off to download more Kindle books.. god i love that thing!



~ by manjamanis on July 1, 2009.

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