Sunday, November 14, 2010

Crack(s) CAN kill...

"I will tell you (about me) in this ere' blogger, one paragraph at a time..."

At this moment, my compulsions are towards conversations. And this conversation I will never forget. Trust me, there's humor in it. Somewhere...

It was November, 2004. We reached Fallujah and ended up in the mansion. The Staff Sergeant (SSgt) says, "Here's the sat-phone. Get in line, call your families. Tell em' you're alive. Done in 5." The Marine Corps way was always geared towards "Troops First" which meant lowest ranking gets priority then up. If I recall correctly, that's how it occured that day. As a Navy Corpsman (and FNG), I got my phone call along with the E-3's. We were on the roof during this time. The reception was not gathering much of a signal. We had to take a step up near a diagonal section on the corner of the wall. Those extra 5 inches of height just helped that much more for the sake of a signal. As it reached my turn, I followed suit...

(Ring)
B(Ex-Wife): Hello?
F(Me): Hi.
B: (Indistinct crying and in combination with expletives)
F: Wait, I don't have a lot of time.
B: (More indistinct expletives and colorful language)
F: Umm... Timeout. I only have 5 minutes. I want to tell you I'm alive and...

CRACK
CRACK
CRACK
CRACK

I felt concrete hitting my face, I turned around and saw everyone face down on the floor. Paulie looks up and says, "Hey boot, you may wanna duck..." and I replied with, "Oh yea, thanks."

I thought to myself, "Welcome to Iraq." An hour later, my SSgt asks...

SSgt: Who was on the phone?
F: Me SSgt.
SSgt: Call your family to tell them you're safe.
F: I'd rather not.
SSgt: Why not?
F: We were arguing.
SSgt: Just call. It's a direct order.
F: Roger that.
(Calls...Rings...)

B: Hello?
F: Hi.
B: WHY THE F*** DID YOU HANG UP!?!?!?!

Palm ----> face = palmface.

**This is not intended to ridicule my ex-wife. She had her own trials as a military wife with her own set of concerns during this time as much as I had mine. I hope you do see the same humor that I see in it now.

If the shoe fits...

Hello reader,

It's unfortunate that my first set of "brainfart-to-keyboard" vomitus entails a conversation I just recently had. I just got home and it's 2:41 anno-meridian, and I'm compelled to share a rather odd yet (I find) comical situation. It (the convo) transitioned into dating. My friend was bummed about a recent relationship and I needed to find a twist to ease his mind and get him out of a rut (for which I think he's in).

(Conversation leads to)
F(Me): Dating is like... Finding shoes.
C: Elaborate.
F: You go into the store, look around, find a pair you like, then try it on. If one shoe fits well, you try them both on. You walk around in them for a bit, but usually it goes back because it just didn't fit right. Then there are those times that you find that nice pair that's just right.
C: Ah... What about the shoe that you buy sometimes just because they look good?
F: Yea. But don't you notice, you wear em' for a bit then it ends up under your bed? It was nice to look at. but they hurt your feet at some point. Or it just isn't as versatile as you'd want em' to be.
C: Like a trophy shoe?
F: If you put it that way... Have you been to Road Runner Sports?
C: The one here in Costa Mesa?
F: Yea, they put you in a shoe dog or running dog machine of some sort.
C: What?
F: They put you in a treadmill, analyze your running, posture and gait and see how it relates to your feet. They suggest the perfect shoe, and even the perfect insoles...
C: Like the eHarmony of shoes?
F: I guess so... We're still talking dating in terms of shoes?
(Both laughs)
F: What I'm trying to say is, you gotta' get out there to see what's out there. Or in this case, get in the store and try out some shoes... You don't HAVE to buy them. Every once in a while, window shopping is good enough. You know, if the shoe fits...