Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
D+152: Hit The LIghts
The Augmentee was fun; but it’s time to hang it up. Every post since my return from Iraq has been slap in the face to the blogs former grandeur; the quality of this blog relied on my being deployed and miserable, so I officially retire it to the historical record. Thanks to everyone who participated.
However, my constant need for glorification and attention has prompted me to begin anew. I will play with the layout and title of a new blog at a later time; I haven’t even settled on a theme. Will I talk about the news? My upcoming participation in a full-time MBA program? Perhaps my exploits as a fully functional alcoholic featuring Bowl, Jewish friend, Bosk and Big K… who knows. The important thing is to just get going. I will start posting again elsewhere, when I have something worthwhile to present to this demanding Augmentee audience.
Salaam bitches.
However, my constant need for glorification and attention has prompted me to begin anew. I will play with the layout and title of a new blog at a later time; I haven’t even settled on a theme. Will I talk about the news? My upcoming participation in a full-time MBA program? Perhaps my exploits as a fully functional alcoholic featuring Bowl, Jewish friend, Bosk and Big K… who knows. The important thing is to just get going. I will start posting again elsewhere, when I have something worthwhile to present to this demanding Augmentee audience.
Salaam bitches.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The JOPA Commandments
1. Do unto JOs as you would have JOs do unto you; Hinges can go fuck themselves.
2. Thou shall not ask questions that thou do not want to know the answers to.
3. Thou shall not be nude in the stateroom for any longer than is necessary to change underpants. Should thou, whilst nude, make eye contact with another nude man inside of arm's distance, thou hast had sexual relations with that man.
4. The amount of time or money one spends at any strip club whilst in foreign port, shall not be discussed in the presence of any JOs wife.
5. Thou shall not speaketh upon check-in for 12 fortnights; nowhere in "FNG" does it ask for your opinion.
6. Thou shall not point out the professional shortcomings of another JO, no matter how obvious, in the presence of a hinge. Personal shortcomings are always in play (Jorts clause).
7. If thy brother doth become inebriated beyond his means, thou shall rescue him from arrest by foreign authorities. Then thou may lay thy balls on his forehead and take many photographs.
8. There is no crying in Naval Aviation.
9. When thou finds another man's electronic mail account un-locked, it is thy noble right and duty to make that man appear homosexual through a humorous and fruity correspondence distributed to all other men.
10.Thou shall claim what thou have dealt.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Not For Self; But For Country
My IA assignment is the gift that keeps on giving; today’s gift is a breath-taking piece of bureaucratic nonsense that only the Navy could manage . A message came out requiring that all commands meeting specific criteria, assign in writing a Command IA Coordinator (CIAC). The criteria are as follows:
1. One or more sailors in the command have orders for a future IA or GSA assignment.
2. One or more sailors in the command are currently serving an IA assignment.
3. One or more sailors in the command have returned from IA in the previous 9 months.
Having recently returned from an IA assignment, my command meets the above criteria and therefore needs to appoint a CIAC… in writing.
The requirement for a CIAC is any E-7 or above who has IA experience (if available). Read as follows: the IA assignment that I returned from in December, requires my command to assign in writing a CIAC – a position for which I am the only member of my command qualified to hold.
I called the message POC, explained our situation, and asked “are you saying that I need to be assigned, in writing, as my command IA coordinator, in effort to support myself for an IA assignment that I completed 4 months ago?”
“Hmm, well if you want to be in compliance, then technically yes.”
So I guess I’m off to NKO to complete the online training course.
Non sibi sed patriae.
1. One or more sailors in the command have orders for a future IA or GSA assignment.
2. One or more sailors in the command are currently serving an IA assignment.
3. One or more sailors in the command have returned from IA in the previous 9 months.
Having recently returned from an IA assignment, my command meets the above criteria and therefore needs to appoint a CIAC… in writing.
The requirement for a CIAC is any E-7 or above who has IA experience (if available). Read as follows: the IA assignment that I returned from in December, requires my command to assign in writing a CIAC – a position for which I am the only member of my command qualified to hold.
I called the message POC, explained our situation, and asked “are you saying that I need to be assigned, in writing, as my command IA coordinator, in effort to support myself for an IA assignment that I completed 4 months ago?”
“Hmm, well if you want to be in compliance, then technically yes.”
So I guess I’m off to NKO to complete the online training course.
Non sibi sed patriae.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Church School
Before being allowed to get married in a Catholic Church, it is required that you and your fiancée get the thumbs up from a Catholic priest, who generally will not award you said “thumbs up” unless you attend some sort of “couples church school.”
We were given two options, we could attend 8 consecutive hour-long workshops over the course of two months, or we could knock it all out in one brutal 8-hour Saturday session. Like ripping off a band-aid, we figured it was better to get it over with quickly, even if it hurts a little more.
So future Mrs. Augmentee and I headed out one fine Saturday morning to a church that we’d never been to before to learn about being a married couple from a priest who’s never been married before. I can’t remember a single thing that was said; I imagine it was love, love, church, trust, babies, church, love, love, babies, and trust ad infinitum. After the priest was through, some other guy came out – his status in the church was unclear to me, but it seemed like he was some minister of something or other and he was here to talk about love, trust, and millions of church-going babies.
This guy was every bit as much of a dork as you’re likely imagining he was; he had a bowl-shaped DIY haircut, and an ensemble that included the ugliest sweater you’ve ever seen, mercifully covered up by the ugliest blazer you’ve ever seen. The details are hazy, but images of plaid are filling my head.
He launched into his qualifications as a happily married blah-blah, God-fearing, plaid-sweater, monkey hair cut, father of twenty. His voice reminded me of “Bruce the Performance Artist,” the hilarious, soft-spoken homo-sexual from Family Guy (see the embedded video for more on Bruce); and informed us that we are going to embark on a series of relationship-strengthening adventure exercises. I could hardly contain my excitement over the “journey” on which my fiancée and I were about to embark.
We were seated at a square table reminiscent of high-school art class with three other couples, and we were just one of about fifteen or twenty such tables in the room. We chose the table in the way back, farthest away from the speaker as possible to discourage our selection for any demonstration and allow us the ability to chat without being too rude. Bruce told us that trust is essential to a strong and healthy relationship, and that in order for our future marriages to be successful, it is important that we have no secrets from each other.
“So I’m going to give you all a few minutes to share your deepest, darkest secrets with each other.” Bruce said.
Obviously, this was a stupid exercise, as no one is going to share dark secrets in the middle of a crowded room filled with 100 strangers, a priest, and a homosexual cartoon character. But since Bruce paused to allow us “secret-sharing” time, most people felt obligated to play along and broke into a soft chatter with one another.
I turned to my future wife, and not loudly but not exactly quietly either, I confessed “Eight years ago, I killed a hooker.”
As is usually the case when I say inappropriate things, the quiet chatter broke to dead silence right as I began to speak and the entire room heard me share my secret. A mix of dumbstruck faces, disapproving glares, and the scrunched up faces of cowardly men who were suppressing laughter fell on me. Mrs. Aug wasn’t overly angry or surprised, having been embarrassed by my behavior in much more profound ways than this, but some other women in the room were not nearly as understanding.
So the moral of the story is that jokes about dead hookers are never funny in church… well, that’s not true because a joke that good is always funny So maybe the moral of the story is that some people who go to church have lousy senses of humor; or maybe you should just interpret the story yourself.
Enjoy the video.
We were given two options, we could attend 8 consecutive hour-long workshops over the course of two months, or we could knock it all out in one brutal 8-hour Saturday session. Like ripping off a band-aid, we figured it was better to get it over with quickly, even if it hurts a little more.
So future Mrs. Augmentee and I headed out one fine Saturday morning to a church that we’d never been to before to learn about being a married couple from a priest who’s never been married before. I can’t remember a single thing that was said; I imagine it was love, love, church, trust, babies, church, love, love, babies, and trust ad infinitum. After the priest was through, some other guy came out – his status in the church was unclear to me, but it seemed like he was some minister of something or other and he was here to talk about love, trust, and millions of church-going babies.
This guy was every bit as much of a dork as you’re likely imagining he was; he had a bowl-shaped DIY haircut, and an ensemble that included the ugliest sweater you’ve ever seen, mercifully covered up by the ugliest blazer you’ve ever seen. The details are hazy, but images of plaid are filling my head.
He launched into his qualifications as a happily married blah-blah, God-fearing, plaid-sweater, monkey hair cut, father of twenty. His voice reminded me of “Bruce the Performance Artist,” the hilarious, soft-spoken homo-sexual from Family Guy (see the embedded video for more on Bruce); and informed us that we are going to embark on a series of relationship-strengthening adventure exercises. I could hardly contain my excitement over the “journey” on which my fiancée and I were about to embark.
We were seated at a square table reminiscent of high-school art class with three other couples, and we were just one of about fifteen or twenty such tables in the room. We chose the table in the way back, farthest away from the speaker as possible to discourage our selection for any demonstration and allow us the ability to chat without being too rude. Bruce told us that trust is essential to a strong and healthy relationship, and that in order for our future marriages to be successful, it is important that we have no secrets from each other.
“So I’m going to give you all a few minutes to share your deepest, darkest secrets with each other.” Bruce said.
Obviously, this was a stupid exercise, as no one is going to share dark secrets in the middle of a crowded room filled with 100 strangers, a priest, and a homosexual cartoon character. But since Bruce paused to allow us “secret-sharing” time, most people felt obligated to play along and broke into a soft chatter with one another.
I turned to my future wife, and not loudly but not exactly quietly either, I confessed “Eight years ago, I killed a hooker.”
As is usually the case when I say inappropriate things, the quiet chatter broke to dead silence right as I began to speak and the entire room heard me share my secret. A mix of dumbstruck faces, disapproving glares, and the scrunched up faces of cowardly men who were suppressing laughter fell on me. Mrs. Aug wasn’t overly angry or surprised, having been embarrassed by my behavior in much more profound ways than this, but some other women in the room were not nearly as understanding.
So the moral of the story is that jokes about dead hookers are never funny in church… well, that’s not true because a joke that good is always funny So maybe the moral of the story is that some people who go to church have lousy senses of humor; or maybe you should just interpret the story yourself.
Enjoy the video.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The New GI Bill: Pt 2
I called the number listed on the VA website, navigated the touch-tone menu, and chose to "speak to a VA Education Case Manager."
While on hold, I listen to "It's All Right" by the Impressions for about three minutes, and determine that "It's All Right" are the only three words in that song.
Finally, Janine came on the line; ecstatic to be speaking with a real live Case Manager, I launched right into my question, describing the difference between my initial obligation and the additional aviation obligation, but was interrupted by the dead-line tone.
I dialed again, selected from the menu, listened to more of "It's All Right" ensuring that idiotic song will be stuck in my head for at least three days, and after another few minutes I was speaking with Colleen.
I explained the situation to her; she told me that I would have to "re-enlist." I said "I don't think you understand," and I described that I think I should be eligible for benefits because I have completed my initial 4.5 year obligation that I incurred as a result of my NROTC scholarship; quoth Colleen, "that sounds correct to me."
Then she qualified that statement with this one, "We had training on this last month."
So there's your answer! It sounds correct to Colleen the VA Educational Case Manager. So go ahead and make your life plans... get those law school applications in. Colleen says it's cool.
While on hold, I listen to "It's All Right" by the Impressions for about three minutes, and determine that "It's All Right" are the only three words in that song.
Finally, Janine came on the line; ecstatic to be speaking with a real live Case Manager, I launched right into my question, describing the difference between my initial obligation and the additional aviation obligation, but was interrupted by the dead-line tone.
I dialed again, selected from the menu, listened to more of "It's All Right" ensuring that idiotic song will be stuck in my head for at least three days, and after another few minutes I was speaking with Colleen.
I explained the situation to her; she told me that I would have to "re-enlist." I said "I don't think you understand," and I described that I think I should be eligible for benefits because I have completed my initial 4.5 year obligation that I incurred as a result of my NROTC scholarship; quoth Colleen, "that sounds correct to me."
Then she qualified that statement with this one, "We had training on this last month."
So there's your answer! It sounds correct to Colleen the VA Educational Case Manager. So go ahead and make your life plans... get those law school applications in. Colleen says it's cool.
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