Friday, August 15, 2008

D-174 - The Morale Officer

I have nothing interesting to write about. There is a pilgrimage to some holy shrine or another that has got the Hajjis all excited; it is causing a lot of traffic, making it hard to get around, and impossible to get anything done.

In fact, I did nothing today. Seriously, not one stitch of meaningful work – sometimes, when I’m screwing off during the day, I’ll at least turn to my computer and click the mouse a few times when Major X rolls through; today I even quit doing that. I did the crossword, opened a package from my wife, read most of this month’s GQ, and went to the gym. At one point, Major X said “I don’t know about you EWO.” In response, I momentarily looked up from my magazine, decided I had no idea what he was talking about, and looked back down. He is a confusing person.


A few days ago, he told me I was supposed to be the morale officer; I replied “really, I had no idea.” I don’t know why he thought I was supposed to know that; in fact, I have been under the impression that the Army is completely opposed to morale. Regardless, I have embraced my role, and as my first order of business, have instituted a daily mass, morale-spewing e-mail: in honor of the 2008 Olympic Games, I have chosen to make the theme “Olympian of the Day,” and have been sending out pictures of Olympians, past and present, which happen to be extremely hot. Tomorrows Olympian is Ana Paula Connelly, a magnificent beach volleyball player from Brazil. Picture included.

The Olympian shtick has been very well received by the Battalion; I take pride in my work.


This bickering on the message boards amuses me; especially since I know the true identities of all the participants, though they are anonymous to one another. I feel so God-like and powerful.


I did get my leave chit in today; I had been trying hard not to think too much about leave, but now that I put in the request, it is the only thing I think about. I ache for it, I can’t wait to go home – wife, dogs, beer, regular clothes, comfortable bed, real food; in that order. Some of the guys have gone on their leave already, and as they come back, refreshed yet more depressed than ever, full of stories of drunkenness and fornication, I want to punch them. How dare they enjoy themselves whilst the rest of us are stuck here with the sandstorms and the stinky Muj?

Quote of the Day:

“Yep, thar goes ole hand-job Pete… best darn hand-jobs this side the YU-FRATE-EES!”

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