I have issues.
There has been much rejoicing on my part since I was informed of my more-imminent-than-previously-expected return to the Land of the Shoeless Shower, but along with that? STRESS. Holy mother of Christopher Guest, the stress is eating my intestines (although not, sadly, my love handles) with the voracity of a thousand crotch rats.*
*Did I never tell you about the crotch rats? Slap me and my poor updating skills on the wrist for that, because the crotch rats are actual rats and/or mice which sneak into your tent and eat crucial portions of your underpants, rendering them quite unwearable. Not, thank god, while you are wearing them (ARGH, is what I would say to that), but still — gaping holes. In underpants. The crotch part. Very Ew.
Anyway, yeah. The stress encompasses me. My main freak-out, that of “Hmm, where am I going to LIVE when I get home? NEED HOUSE NOW” has been solved thanks to craigslist and its handy room-to-rent listings (I’m living in downtown Savannah for the summer, can we say close proximity to bars and beach?), but there are many other dominant worries racing recklessly around in my brain:
- Packing. Will I have time to finish it, as the days fly by and are consecutively filled with horrid public affairs work? And, once the packing is done, will I be able to mail everything I have to back to the States in time for me to retrieve it upon arrival? I have to have clothes, you know. Which reminds me,
- Where in the blue fuck am I going to ship my stuff? I have a friend or two back there, but seriously — along with the clothes, I have a footlocker which is stuffed entirely with BOOKS. That is not a nice thing for anybody to receive in the mail. It’s like sending someone their very own hernia. They might as well be lifting a damn
- CAR. Eventual Ex-Husband has my car. He is going to be bringing it to me in Georgia, but when? This has yet to be determined. The commute to Fort Stewpid from downtown Savannah is long and tortuous, and impossible by foot or bike unless I want to leave for work the day before I have to be there. Why do military bases have to always be built in the middle of goddamn nowhere? I’m blaming all of this on
- The Army. Just, you know, in general. Blargh.
So yeah, the stress is intense, and I Do Not Approve. It’s not like my natural state is hovering anywhere near Zen, but it would be nice if mental stability would throw me a frickin’ bone. Oh, and the quitting smoking thing? HA HA HA HA HA not so much. I have, however, solemnly sworn to cut back to four a day. That should at least help prevent any major breakdowns.
In case of emergency, change subject.
Not a crotch rat … yet. It just hasn’t found its way out of the latrine.
Sometimes, you have to cut across the runway, and just hope the engines are off.
An Iraqi plane lurks behind the motor pool. Get out of my damn country, is what it is saying.
The building I work in is officially deemed Safe From Zombies.
To all of you beautiful people who have followed my trail of bread crumbs over to this blog, by the way, I want to say … well, hi! I am pants-wettingly pleased to see you again, and hopefully I will fail to disappoint you this time, what with all the let’s-go-six-months-without-updating malarkey that was going on at the old place. That song “My Biz-nitch Is The Shiz-nit”? Is about YOU.
on April 9, 2008 on 10:40 pm
Hi babe,
Hang in there… Big hug to you…-J
on April 9, 2008 on 10:46 pm
Blue, as long as you will do us all the kindness of staying on this side of the dirt for the remainder of your deployment, you take all the time you want between postings.
on April 9, 2008 on 11:02 pm
I would send you many virtual (and/or real) beers if I knew how. Maybe you can worry about the smoking AFTER you get back. Maybe now is not the time to quit. Just a thought.
on April 9, 2008 on 11:23 pm
Thank you (I think) For elaborating about the crotch rats. As soon as you mentioned them, I was like, “Excuse me? crotch rats? is this a new form of curse as in, ‘May the fleas of a thousand crotch rats invade your panty drawer!’ ??”
Hmmm, actually, must remember that new curse. But I am glad you are hanging in there, and that your time in the awful place grows short. Everything will work out, even the dilemma of the books will resolve itself. Hugs!
on April 9, 2008 on 11:44 pm
It would be nice if I was one of those people that told you take as long as you want between updates, you’re in a war zone, fighting terrorism, America’s heroes, blah blah blah. But luckily, I’m not one of those people, so I’m very pleased to see you updating again. Also! Live in California! There’s sun! And hot men with no shirts on! And movie stars! And ocean! No humidity! And Andria!
on April 9, 2008 on 11:44 pm
PS. Crotch rats? OH MY GOD.
on April 10, 2008 on 1:55 am
O M G…I don’t know what is worse, your crotch rats, or the mini-poodle I lived with for 2 years, that did the same damn thing! Gak.
But YAY for coming home early, and it will all get done, I promise. You’ve learned more about doing the impossible from the Army than you think, heh.
on April 10, 2008 on 2:02 am
The picture of “future crotch rat” is still making laugh out loud. The neighbors are probably wondering what’s so funny…. Maybe I should tell them. Then again, maybe not. Crotch rats might not amuse the rest of suburbia….
on April 10, 2008 on 6:46 am
Awww, crotch rats sound kinda cute. Can we ship some to George Bush?
on April 10, 2008 on 7:05 pm
Umm, rats in the latrine? Dear heavens…I’d be dehydrating and constipating myself until I got home. Not a fan of rats, the regular nor the crotch variety.
You are welcome to mail footlocker of books to me. And once you’re ready for them, I’d put them in the mail to you. Being a complete book fanatic, I know how important books are and am willing to help out another bibliophile.
on April 10, 2008 on 10:07 pm
You could ship all that shit to KC! I have a garage that is almost but not quite overflowing!
I’m sure that Bouby wouldn’t mind, and then you could come visit!
on April 11, 2008 on 12:30 am
That big mofu plane looks like its grinning. Like its just about to say “Yeh, G’wan. Step out. Then Im gonna RUN your ass over, girlie!” I think I smoke too much green. s x
on April 11, 2008 on 3:51 am
There are rats that eat the crotch out of underwear?!? We should wage war on those sneaky and gross rodents instead!
Hey, how’s your pet cactus doing?
on April 11, 2008 on 5:13 am
Hey there Bluegirl! So glad to hear you’re coming back to the states. I’ve been out of touch for a while. A long while. But its always nice to see that my favorite people are still alive, kicking, and very much themselves.
Interesting that my first foray into D-land landed me here, into a nest of crotch rats. Just what I should have suspected…
Take care! Hope your good underwear makes it to the states before you.
on April 11, 2008 on 8:53 pm
I could have happily lived my full life ignoreant of the reality of such a thing as crotch rats. But I’m glad you’re alive and well, and posting! Lisa
on April 12, 2008 on 4:37 am
OMG.. crotch rats?? Are they for real?? (Checks off Iraq for summer vacation location.) Glad to see you’re back… somewhat sort’ve and all that jazz. When will you be back in the land of “United States of High Taxes and Stupid People.” I’m having a day from hell which culminated when I stepped in pee on the bathroom floor, courtesy of my 4 year old. I think I’m going to run away from home…
on April 12, 2008 on 6:42 pm
I swear to _________ (insert favorite floating diety) that you are like the crack to my internet glass pipe. I am so glad you came back to those of us who have been lurking/reading your stories for many years. I was really disappointed when I was trying to convince myself blogging was no longer for you. I didn’t give up though. I left the link in my favorites and would check it like once a month. Woohooo to never giving up on you!
Welcome back to the internet, woman.
on April 16, 2008 on 4:52 pm
Well fuck. I’m only 6 days late to this party. BUT…I have you now and will place you in my sidebar. And GA? That’s practically right next door! Or not…we could still visit, I’m sure the boys would love to see you. When you’re out of the Army they won’t be able to call you “Army Girl” anymore, what new nickname would you like?
When you said Crotch Rats the first thing I though of was Crotch Crickets. I think I like the idea of VD better than chewed undies.
on April 17, 2008 on 10:34 pm
Hahahha, It’s good to read what you’ve got going on again. Crotch Rats, My brother was trying to figure out why I was on the floor laughin so hard.
on April 18, 2008 on 4:17 am
Tell you what, if there is some place/way to ship my own Crotch Rats (except these B*stards eat everything not nailed down in the pantry…. honestly…. uncooked spaghetti - I put a brand new bag in the pantry YESTERDAY - totally snarfed today) I’ll hold on to everything you’ve got to ship. (The commute to Utah, however, might just suck a bit.). But I’ve got lots of space (as long as your belonging can protect themselves from mice…..)…. *ahem.
on June 15, 2008 on 6:19 pm
Hey girl….still writing somewhere??