Category: Personality Quirks


Ladies and gentlemen of the interwebs, I have compiled a list of my favorite words from the year 2012, and their assumed definitions.  Some of the words are new, others have made a comeback, and some just never went anywhere.  Without any further delay, (except your reading speed, that’s the only delay.  You might want to work on that…. Or not.) here is your list!  Oh, the list will contain some very salty language.

1: Fucktard:  This word is derived from the phrase “fucking retard”.  It rolls off  the tongue perfectly, and is used to describe someone who you may feel is “fucking retarded”.  Not to be used to describe someone who is actually mentally deficient.

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Seemed like a good idea at the time….

2: Twat Waffle:  This is a $5 word for cunt.  Cunt is not as popular in American dialogue like it is in British, and Australian dialogue, but we have many euphemisms, for that particular euphemism.

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Yep…… you dirty minded people…..

3: Douchhammer:  Someone who is such a douchebag, that they transcend your basic garden variety douche behaviors.  If douchebags were mystical weapons, the douchehammer is Thor’s hammer, of doucheiness.  Guys who wear fauxhawks and wear Tap-Out clothing.

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Another term for this person is “Sir”…..

4: Fuckwit:  Yet another word that is based in a phrase, “fucking nitwit”.  I would assume that the individual deemed a fuckwit is probably frustratingly stupid, but not quite as much as the fucktard is.  And as a bonus, Microsoft Word failed to spell check the word which gives it some serious legitimacy.

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Put him in greens and there you go….

5: Dipshidiot:  A wonder blend of the terms Dipshit, and Idiot.  While technically not a swear word, using it in public will garner looks as you blaze a trail into the insult wilderness.  A Dipshidiot is someone who simply lacks common sense, and is kinda presumptuous about it.

6: Struggle Snuggle:  A colorful term used to describe rape/sexual assault.  It is usually used between friends in an attempt to make someone feel uncomfortable.  This is probably a military/fraternity exclusive.  Nowhere else would it be remotely acceptable.

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It’s OK, they’re only fruit…..

7: Surprise Sex:  Rape.  Apparently someone figured out that as long as you yell “SURPRISE” before penetration, that it’s not rape….. but is it.

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I hope he’s getting his fair share of surprise sex…. prison style

8: Fuck:  This word has endless uses.  How could it not be on the list?

9: Thundercunt:  An exceptionally horrible woman.  The word can be used to describe males as well, but this word is normally used to describe a needlessly rude, abrasive, or otherwise dickish woman.

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Another term for this one is “ma’am”

10: Blue Waffle:  Just Google it…….  I’ll wait.

11: Pacqiouing:  To lay face down on any horizontal surface and have someone take a picture of you.  Boxing gloves are used to enhance the photo.

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The hopes and dreams of a nation were unconscious on the mat for about 3 minutes….

12: Afghandyland, Dirtbagistan, Douchbagistan, any horrible word -istan….:  Derogatory terms to describe Afghanistan either due to the actual country and its flora and fauna, its people, or the rules and regulations imposed by the military.  Can also be used to describe Pakistan.

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What they don’t illustrate is the fact that all the folks here suck.

13: Moon Dust:  The extra fine dust that permeates everything you own.  It ruins air filters, shoes, clothing, pretty much everything.  When wet, it absorbs just enough water to become a sludge that stick to everything.  It is normally found in such places as Afghanistan, Kuwait, Iraq, or any country where a majority of the populace wants to kill us.

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“Are we landed yet?!” “I don’t know sir, let go of the stick and we’ll find out! I can’t see shit!” “Roger that crew chief!”

14: Dirty Contractor:  Someone who was once a member of the military, but left to make more money as a contractor.  They are usually looked at with disdain by those still in uniform until they are about to retire, then they are looked at as potential employers.

yep, pretty much....

yep, pretty much….

15: Fuckbag:  Someone who cannot be described as a fuck in the singular sense.  This person has angered others to where they must be described as a bag of loosely organized fucks.  This is not a term of endearment.

Words that didn’t make the cut:

YOLO: This word is stupid, and only stupid people use it.

Snooki:  I hope she dies in a fire…

Planking/Owling:  Usurped by Pacqiouing….

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I was going to write a piece about my favorite words of 2012, but I’ve decided to write about something a little closer to the heart.  I’ve decided to write about the loss of my mother, which has affected me in ways I could not have anticipated, or prepared for.  It’s affected me in ways I don’t even fully understand, and can barely articulate.  I’m going to attempt to put these changes, and feelings and everything into writing in hopes that those few people who actually read the words I labor over can make some sense over who I am right now.  I hoping I can make some sense over who I’ve become.  I hoping SOMEONE can make some sense of it all.  I’m struggling with it, and I fear that my perception may not be what it should be, or that’s it’s sharper than it ever has been before.

When I learned that my mother had actually passed away, I was in the Delta Airlines lounge in the Atlanta airport.  I had jumped on WiFi on my phone and began messaging my wife.  She had told me that she had died, and when.  She told me how she found out, my crackhead uncle who was there for the whole thing told her via phone call.  It’s thought amongst the family that he lost himself after the passing of his mother, my grandmother.  Since he was the youngest, he took it the hardest and simply lost himself in drugs.  As my wife tells me that my mother has passed, I don’t really feel much at that point in time.  I had steeled myself so that I could complete my travels, which I took to viewing as a mission.  A mission that I couldn’t fail no matter what.  I completed eating my snacks or breakfast or whatever you would call what I ate, and proceeded to my next flight.  I sat in the terminal, still not really feeling much.  I might have e-mailed my boss in Afghanistan to what happened just so I could keep them abreast as I moved about taking care of things.  Honestly, I can’t recall my whole thought process at that time.  I got on my flight, and ultimately I made it home.  I was still hardened to information, still emotionally offline, still not allowing myself to feel anything.  It was business, business only I could address, as I had no faith that my family would be available to support, or even willing.  I had a fairly low opinion of my family.  My uncles in my eyes were abject failures who could not be looked to for any kind of support or guidance.  I saw them as petty fools, unable to get out of their own ways to accomplish the simplest of tasks.  The fact that my crackhead uncle survived by exploiting my mother’s kindness did not sit well with me, and adversely influenced how I saw them as a whole.  My grandfather, now a feeble old man was apparently the cause of all of this madness, but I never saw why they never made an effort to change their own lives.  I had steeled myself so that if I was to be met with disappointment in their inability or reluctance to assist, that the shock would not be as traumatic.  I also felt that I had to be the strong one for my family.  I had to be the man, or at least what I thought was the man and be that unmoving pillar of perpetual support for all those around me.  I’m home, but emotionally I was elsewhere, it was all business.  I load up the family to begin the 5 hour drive from our home in Jacksonville, to my mother’s home in Mount Holly, which is near Charlotte.  While I was there I would address her belongings, the funeral preparations, and her cremation per her wishes.  It was all business.  I felt nothing.  I was not emotionally there yet, I could not allow a weakness such as emotion to arrive lest I fall apart and fail to complete my mission of making sure she was laid to rest.  When the paperwork had been completed in Mount Holly, I had to view the body.  I wept.  I simply said the words “Thank you” and I wept.  I wept and I held my family so close.  I squeezed my wife and daughters and I cried harder than I have in all of my adulthood and adolescence.  I’ve lost friends, mentors, and fellow Marines, and I have always been saddened which led to anger, but for my mother I wept.  I sobbed like a child, because I was her child.  I remembered all the things she had done for me.  All the sacrifices she had made for me.  Everything she had tried to teach me.  I remembered how she did all these things on her own as a single mother, while trying to fill the role of her deceased mother and hold her family together.  I remembered her trying to stay strong during her fight with the cancer that killed her, so she would be there to watch her granddaughters grow.  I wept for all these things.  My emotions had finally arrived.  When faced with my mother’s body, the one who bore me onto the earth, I had broken and my emotions were allowed…. Finally.  With that burst of emotion out, I was able to steel myself once again.  I had not laid my mother to rest, and I would not rest until I had done so.  I have no idea why I followed this train of thought.  I felt that she deserved nothing less than my full abilities and talents, and I felt there was no way to give her that if I was openly grieving, but a part of me wishes I had.  After the viewing, I was able to pull myself together enough to go back to handling business, and handle business I did.  Despite several snafus along the way, I was able to deliver her urn to Philadelphia where she would be honored and finally laid to rest.  There was a beautiful service, and I was very very involved in the entire process down to me actually designing the programs for the service.  My cousin Darren was a big part of this too, as he works in the funeral services industry and helped do some advanced work in Philly prior to our arrival.  After the service, which coincidentally was on my oldest daughter’s birthday, we went to have some fun.  I did not want the specter of her grandmother’s death forever clouding her birthday, so we did what we had to in order to make sure she would remember having a good time on her birthday.  Little things, I wanted my kids to be happy even when I was so sad and broken inside.  Fun is over and we return to Jacksonville, and attempt to return to some sense of normalcy.  The kids went back to school after missing 10 days, and I tried to help along things there were happening in the house.  I tried to help with homework, home improvements, and the normal things I would take care of if I were home.  Something normal.  If I stayed busy enough, I wouldn’t have to deal with the emotions that I knew were stirring inside.  I was able to make it all the way back to Afghanistan before my emotions saw fit to manifest themselves in a variety of ways.  Self-loathing took on a whole new light.  I have more days where I feel like a worthless hunk of shit here, than I have anywhere else in my life.  The solitude of this place has allowed me to descend into a great sadness.  I’m surrounded by people who care about how I’m doing, but it’s of no comfort to me.  I’ve found myself engaged in self destructive thinking, to what ends I don’t know.  I wept in my office, I’ve wept in my room.  I feel like there is something missing in my life.  Like I’ve come home to find that my home is empty.  That’s how I feel, empty.  I feel lost.  I feel forsaken, and forgotten.  I feel unloved, and unlovable.  There is dark cloud over me these days, and I don’t know what to do about it.  Up to this point, I wasn’t able to look inside to see why I was feeling how I was, but here I am 60+ days after the death of my mother, and I am grieving.  I am alone, I am cold, I am desperate, and I am grieving.  My world no longer makes sense to me, and even though I know why I am here, I still question myself, then I chastise myself for wavering.  Hell, a part of me is upset because I ripped off the Band-Aid and sat down to write this, once again allowing emotion to flow.  I’m at a loss people.  I’m adrift inside my own mind right now, and I don’t know how long it will take to regain steerage.  I ask that you bear with me, through my good days, and my bad days.  I ask that you don’t turn your backs on me, because I need you now more than I ever have before.  I don’t need your sympathy, just your understanding.  I don’t need your words of encouragement, just your ears sometimes.  I need to be able to be weak, without being judged.  I need to be human.  I need to be a son who has lost his only mother.

So here I sit, on the sixth floor of my tower, in my apartment in Kuwait City, overlooking the ocean.  New roommate whom I’ve met before, with a boss damn near 10 years my JUNIOR.  Company cell phone in my pocket, company vehicle available once I get my driver’s licence (but I drive anyway).  Sounds like I got a pretty sweet deal going on out here, huh?  Well lets cover how I ended up here and what had to be endured by my family and I.

The living room. Not a bad spot. Not a GREAT spot either....

First thing I had to do was survive my enlistment without event, and complete the never-ending quest of checking out for EAS.  I almost didn’t make it though.  I ran into numerous obstacles in surviving, and in checking out.  I actually crossed the physical threshold on a junior Marine about 1 week before terminal leave.  He disrespected me so flagrantly that I actually blacked out and when my mind turned back on I already had closed the distance, and grabbed him.  Fortunately he wasn’t a complete idiot and did not make things worse by making any sudden movements or loud sounds while my mind wasn’t home.  Had he done that I probably would have begun beating on him, and that would have been bad.  Oh, all of this was going on with a space boot on my foot, due to my ankle surgery (as mentioned in previous blogs).  As for my checking out, I ran into some major delays with the dental and medical portions.  My shoulder was still not good to go but I needed a surgeon from the Naval Hospital to say it was so I could be found medically fit to separate.  This had to be done via appointment.  the appointment was about 10 days into my leave period.  The appointment took all of 5 minutes.  Needless to say, I was a little bit upset about that.  I also had a tooth extracted, you know, just because.  Then begins the medical screening for ITT.  I had a dental exam, medical exam, and shots to get.  All of these activities were conducted in the state on North Carolina, and required a shit ton of hours to get to.  My dental exam was in Jacksonville, fair enough.  I sat there in the waiting room forever waiting for the dentist to get there.  Why was I waiting?  Because the dentist lived in Wilmington, and there was a huge fire burning between Wilmington, and Jacksonville and traffic was all kinds of jacked up.  But the dentist finally arrives, and my 5 minute exam it conducted.  Yes, I was pissed about that, but happy that I was done.  The shots were done in Fayetteville which is about 3 hours from Jacksonville.  So after driving for 3 hours, and waiting for 20 minutes, I got 3 shots in about 5 minutes.  Yes, I was fucking furious that this could not be done closer to home, but it was done so that made me kinda happy.  Medical was done in Wilmington, about 1 hour away.  I got there and had forgotten that I needed to fast for some blood work.  It didn’t matter though because I got my fat ass on that scale and saw a number I didn’t think was possible.  I will not share that number with you, but lets just say that seeing that number sent my blood pressure through the roof as I was so damned pissed at myself.  Guess what test was next….. they checked my blood pressure, and it was pretty high, which pissed me further, and made it higher.  As you can see I am spiraling out of control at this point.  Well, I managed to keep it together on the outside,, but inside I was a mess.  I did my piss test and of course I was not worried about anything because I have not touched drugs for quite a long time.  I wasn’t even on painkillers for my surgeries at this point.  Then cam the blood work.  See I had forgotten to fast, but in an hour or so, I’d be back within their test window.  So blood work time comes and the nurse tries to get some blood.  Seven sticks, two nurses, and one bonafide doctor later, they finally get their blood and I get several band-aids.

Yep, they hooked me up with some band-aids.

Well I knew what had to happen, I had to lose a significant amount of weight and lower my chronically borderline blood pressure.  So begins a really effective, but shitty diet and PT routine.  Mass doses of thermogenic fat burners, no/low carb protein, water, and PT, followed with vitamin packs.  I lost the weight, and it sucked doing so.  Being laid up for months cramming in surgeries before my EAS was a strategic error on my part, but I was still able to pull it off.  With my medical package completed, I was given my flight date to depart to Ft. Benning GA where ITT and several other companies go for processing en route to the middle east.

You are good to go! Trust me, I'm a doctor.......

There are also soldiers there.  Tons of them, of all shapes and sizes and walks of life.  Mostly National Guard and reservists.  If you have never worked with the two aforementioned groups, then you don’t fully understand disappointment, and frustration with someone you THOUGHT was in the military.  Most of these people were complete tool bags.  Just getting out of the Marine Corps, my view of the military might have been a little biased, but nothing could have prepared me for the jackassery that I witnessed at Ft. Benning at the hand of those reservists and guardsmen.  Did I mention that the staff was reservist/guard?  Well they were, so that just added to the suckitude of being there.  After a week of processing, when I thought I’d reached the finish line.  I was incorrect in that assumption.  The medical people at Benning did not appreciate my recent weight loss, or my lower blood pressure.  They ignored my new results that I had to get in order to even be sent there.  They saw the first ones, and made a decision.  I was sent home, absolutely dejected and no longer drawing a paycheck.  I had already received my last paycheck from the Corps, and now here I sat with a half paycheck from ITT for one week of ‘work’ plus my signing bonus.  My wife was there for me, and she was supportive.  I had coordinated with ITT to return to Benning to finish my processing and finally get into theater.  ITT held up their end of the deal by getting the paperwork done for my return.  I did my part by not getting fatter, and showing up.  I finally completed Ft. Benning and flew to Kuwait.  I was still not too excited about to where I was going in Afghanistan, and what I was going to be doing.  Sitting in a TCF with my thumb about elbow deep in my ass unable to actually troubleshoot my own equipment was not something I was looking forward to doing.  I needed something that would allow me more growth.  Enter Mr. Edison, a soldier I worked with in Okinawa years ago at Ft. Buckner.  He had just switched contracts to go to a section called the MST in Afghanistan.  He would be able to get knee-deep in the gear and actually perform maintenance.  I was excited, I asked how I could get on with that.  He directed me to the MST boss and after speaking with him I jumped contracts at an immediate pay cut, at a higher salary.  I know it does not make sense, but it works like this: When you go to Iraq, or Afghanistan, the State Department adds 70% of your base salary to your first 40 hours, so I would make more money in Afghanistan, but at a lower hourly rate.  With the MST, I could still go to Afghanistan for work, but at a higher hourly rate, on top of all the labor perks that come with working out of Kuwait (more on those in a later blog).  So here I sit, in Kuwait, car keys in my pocket, ready to whip it on.  There is always more to the story as about a month has gone by since this point that i could speak on, but who wants to read a 4000 word blog?  Nobody, that’s who.  So enjoy the reading and be sure to leave a comment.  Thanx!

"Thatll teach your brown ass from exploring Arizona!"

For anyone who has been paying attention to the news for the last year or so, you will always hear about a certain state in the southwest engaging in a little bit of state sponsored racism.  That state is not New Mexico, Utah, Colorado, or even Nevada.  That state is Arizona.  Arizona is another one of those places that old people (read: old white people) go to settle down in and live out the rest of their lives.  You may have thought that place was Florida, but you’d be mistaken, there are way too many Cubans, Haitians, and other “undesirables” in Florida.  AZ is all sand, sun, and dead Mexicans, so this is scared old white people heaven.  AZ might have as much diversity as an Ambercrombie catalog, but that would be stretching it.  I mean they do need people of color to play sports at their universities, and on their pro basketball, and football teams, but other than that you gotta go somewhere else darkie.

You see this place? Fuck this place.

During the Bush years, AZ kept it’s head low, and itself out of the spotlight.  Since Obama was elected president the govenment of AZ has become very overt in their racism.  They have tried to pass an unconstitutional law targeting Latinos allowing law enforcement to card anyone they THINK might be an illegal alien (read: any an all brown people).  It was the first step in a harassment campaign designed to make Latinos uncomfortable in their own homes, and their own skins.  A federal judge rejected the law and told AZ to pack that shit up and take it to go.

Get that shit outta here!!!

I might not be inclined to blog AZ with only the immigration law in the news, but now the whole state is feeding into the ‘birther’ movement.  If you don’t know what the birther movement is, it’s a group of people who believe that President Obama is actually from Kenya.  They took to the airwaves in droves demanding proof that Obama was in fact a natural born citizen.  When he produced proof, they simply ignored it.  When it was produced again, they once again ignored it.  So now AZ is trying pass a law that mandates a presidential candidate produce a birth certificate in order to be allowed on their ballots.  Sounds like a good idea, and I would agree with it, if the idea didn’t stem directly from an overt racist fear.  You see, the principle behind the law is flawed, therefore it’s execution will be flawed.  I cannot support anything like that on any scale.  So without further ado…. FUCK AZ!!!

Yeah, fuck those guys.

Now I have met a few good people from AZ, so don’t think I’m condemning everyone.  I’m just condemning those who think up, and those who vote for these horrible laws.  I’m sure I won’t see many comments if any, but feel free to prove me wrong.  Go ahead and leave a comment.  Oh and just a little WTF for the road….

Japan, back in the drivers seat!

I still have idea what any of this is....

Sounds like a good plan.....

Hello, my name is Dirt Diggler, and I’m a fat-ass.  That is what I told myself last week as I read the number on the scale at my medical screening.  I was about 15 pounds heavier than I had ever seen myself……. ever.  I was where I’d told myself I’d never be.  I was as close to fat-ass rock bottom as I’d ever been.  Immediately my blood pressure skyrocketed.  As you can imagine, finding out that I was tipping the scales at around 310 was rather upsetting.  I was filled with disgust for myself over my weight.  The next part of the exam was to check my blood pressure.  I’m normally pre-hypertensive at any weight, it’s my genetic legacy, well now since I was so upset I was well into the hypertensive range.  The nurse asked if I wanted a few minutes to calm down, and I did.  I tried to whoosaa myself calm for a few minutes but I was too far gone by that point.  My blood pressure had lowered just a little bit, but not nearly enough.  So marks the beginning of my current journey: to not be such a fat bastard.  I made the decision that day that I was going on a modified Atkins diet that I will call the Fatkins diet.

Done this one, time for one that is more…… ME
There…. That’s more like it.

The Atkins Diet is a very low carb, very hight protein and fat diet modeled after the Eskimos I guess.  It helps you lose weight fast, but your energy levels will plummet and become inconsistent.  Because your energy levels are neither here nor there, your tolerance for bullshit is much lower.  Because your tolerance levels have dropped, you are now more likely to use what little energy you have in acts of violence against the dumb-asses you will undoubtedly be surrounded by while at work.  Since you are now using your very limited energy in acts of violence, you now have even less available when you have to flee from the police, therefore increasing your chances of incarceration exponentially.  You eat mostly meat, absolutely no rice or bread, and very little if any vegetables.  So you can eat a steak topped with bacon, cheese, and ranch, but you can’t have a fucking apple.  One more big thing about the Atkins diet is this; carbs kinda shape your poop, holds it together.  Without the carbs there you will feel like you are pooping more often, and you are.  But your poops will be more like sawdust instead of the proud bowl crushing turds you were accustomed to dropping before.

So proud, so proud.....

You also have to take multivitamins while on the Atkins diet because you will not be eating veggies which have both vitamins, and carbs.  And tons of water.  You will drink water more than you ever had in your life, but water is cheap, hell it’s free in certain  places.

Tons of this. Remember this stuff?

Now time to describe the Fatkins diet.  Instead of eating fried meats at every meal, you have a low/no carb protein shake for breakfast along with your vitamins and some thermogenics along with a fiber supplement.  “What are thermogenics Mr. Diggler?”  Well let me tell you: fat burners.  Those little pills that increase your body temperature and can make life unbearable if used incorrectly.  You will also be having a shake for lunch, and meat for dinner.  Please take note of the lack of any real food.  You will also be doing 30 minutes to 1 hour of cardio daily.  Because you are taking thermogenics, and working your ass off in the gym you will need to consume enormous amounts of water.  More than you would if on the Atkins diet.  This combination if done correctly will take you straight into the “Unhealthy weight loss” realm.  It’s OK, this is not a long term solution to the size of your ass, but you can do this for a couple of weeks, take a few days off, and go back on for a couple more weeks until you reach your goal weight.  Once you get to your desired size, you now have to use methods such as portion control, exercise, calorie counting, and so on to maintain or improve your shape.

Don't do this..... ever!

You can’t just shotgun a pizza and chase it with a tub of ice cream and expect it NOT to latch onto your belly and or ass.  You have to take control of YOUR diet and YOUR eating habits to maintain any semblance of a good shape.  Oh, and remember that fiber you took in the morning, it not only helps in the weight loss process, but helps those turds become a bit more manageable.  I’ve lost about 20 pounds doing this diet, and it’s time for a short break during which I will gain some weight back.  But back on the diet I got first thing Monday, ready to do it for another round.

Yeah! Bring it bitches, just make sure it has no carbs OK......

And now on to the WTF that undoubtedly lead most readers to this blog.  Feel free to comment.  I respond to each one.

Woman, get my razor! I have to shave my eyeballs now!

Work hard, play harder I guess

Hip hop clothes and maybe fried chicken?

WOW

Ronald-San was kicking The Colonels ass until the Burger King got involved....

Thank you for reading, as I said before, feel free to leave a comment.

Ladies and gentlemen, as it stands, right this second I am free.  Free from the bonds, and tyrannical rule of the Infamous Foot Button.  I can now walk somewhat normal, and stretch my toes without pain.  This is most definitely a good thing.  I’ve been button free for about two weeks now, and I must say that it is, in fact the shit!  In about 3 days my cast will be removed.  I’ll be able to wash my leg and entire foot, and walk more normally.  I’ll be moving up to the space boot from the cast so I’m not out of the woods yet.

Kinda like this....

But more like this….

yeah, nowhere near as cool as the name implies

I can’t wait until I get to wear this travesty as it will be the last step in my surgery recovery that actively hinders my movement, and I need some movement in my life in the worst way.  I could go to lose some weight, and diet only does so much for me.  I need to work out as well, and work out a lot.

 

Diet my ass!!

Either way, I need to get back in the gym, and that begins this week.  I look forward to it.  I’ll I have left to do is check out, and work out.  Consider it done!

 

I'm going to steal all of your shit!

I woke up this morning to Onslow County Sheriffs cars parked across the street from my house.  Apparently some teenagers had gone through all the cars in the area stealing shit.  I mean the fuckers covered some serious ground, they went through two different, yet connected sub-divisions.  They weren’t breaking into cars, but if your car was unlocked they were going to go through your shit.  I’ve been known to leave my car unlocked, but I also leave nothing of value in my car.  This time my car was locked, and none of my nothing was missing.

 

yep, it's all here....

Some of my neighbors weren’t so lucky.  They left some very important things in plain view in an unlocked car.  Shit like this is bound to happen.  I mean if you put it out there people will take advantage of the situation.  The cars have working AUTOMATIC locks on the key chain, working AUTOMATIC locks on the doors, and possibly working ALARM systems, none of which were used.  Makes you wonder how people have anything at all.  We all have our ideas on who we think the thief is.  I don’t know the turds name, but he’s the only teenager I’ve met out here that I’ve damn near put into the ground.  I mean this kid had me hot, I was really gonna send this fucker limping home to his father (a senior Marine, mind you) in hopes that I could beat his ass too if her tried to defend his shit stain son.  He set off my neighbor, then me, and then the other neighbor all within seconds of each other.  He had some of his boys with him, but they clearly did not want 800 pounds of pain coming their way.  My kids were watching me flip out and they started crying thinking I was gonna kill this kid and go to jail.  My wife was worried too untill she heard him say this key phrase “My dad is a Master Sergeant!”.  Sorry son, your gangster membership has been revoked, you are no longer allowed to pretend to be hard, you can’t even make my wife scared of you.  You fail at being gangster.  You fail, so very very bad.

 

"Hurry up mom, take the picture!" "Dudes, we are SOOOO gangster!"

I actually HOPE it’s him, and that one of us catches him.  That will be an asswhippin to remember.  I’d YouTube that shit in a heartbeat!  Let me put up one more fake gangsta picture.  I don’t think you fully understand how NOT gangsta these kids were.

 

Just because I hope he can read, and reads this.

Bitches!

Here is a link to some more fake gangsta pics because seriously, fuck those kids!

http://www.strange-people.com/2010/06/funny-fake-gangsters.html

That’s all I got for today.  I should have more next weekend as I have a birthday, get my cast removed, and return to work this week.  Should be pretty eventful.  I look forward to sharing it with you guys.

And here is some WTF for the road.

 

Walmart trash

The sad part was that the kid drove there because mommy was too drunk.....

crack whore

Why is she famous again?

Google these guys, find them, then burn them to the ground

I got nothin.....

are they out of paper or something?

so excited

You know she is just foaming at the mouth waiting of March 14th!

With that one, don’t let March 14th catch you off guard.  Get your favorite cut of steak lined up, as well as your favorite lip gloss.  Celebrate with style, and enthusiasm.  Feel free to leave a comment folks.  I’m out!

Well ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I return to you once again with yet another blog.  No doubt I will use colorful language, images, and topics throughout this post.  Some of you might be amused.  Some of you might be offended.  Some of you will just take it all in stride.  Some of you will in fact, read the words I have labored to type, and still others will just look at the pictures.  Hey whatever floats your boat, I’m just happy to be here.  No on to the topics at hand.

like a doughnut please.... and this time with some fucking enthusiasm!!!!

As some of you might know I recently posted a blog about Valentine’s Day, and my views of it.  If you hadn’t, allow me to give you a quick refresher.  Valentine’s Day is a manufactured holiday with no real meaning.  It is yet another way for people to sell a bunch of shit to people who can’t afford them (men), in an attempt to impress someone else (women) in a misplaced gesture of affection.  Valentine’s Day would be completely pointless if you treated your significant others with the love and respect they deserve all year long.  However, in Japan Valentine’s Day is based around showering the MEN with gifts of flowers and chocolate.  The women have White Day which ironically is March 14, in which they are showered with gifts.  The role reversal is refreshing, but in this country/culture there is no role reversal possible because there is no day set aside for men.  Now this is not my idea.  I did n’t come up with this but I stand behind it completely.  Starting this year March 14 needs to be set aside as…… Steak and BJ day.  That’s right.  Steak and BJ day.  The ladies will cook a steak for their man, and hook him up with one of the most selfless acts a woman can perform.

Ladies, stop being so selfish.....

Some might say that I, and other who follow this line of thinking are misogynistic assholes who hate women.  Quite the contrary.  We are the same people who go out of their way to make sure SHE had a memorable Valentine’s day.  We are the flower giving, champaign pouring, meal cooking, foot rubbing guys who show our love and affection on every possible occasion.  All we ask is that you show US some love and appreciation by doing for us.  Nothing about oral sex is nasty in a monogamous relationship.  Nothing is nasty about sex.  We have a pretty ass backward view of sex to begin with, which is shocking considering it’s how we all ended up here.  While we will call out the men to bend over backwards into the range of ridiculous extravagance just to show they love someone else, all we ask in return is the simple act of a good meal, and a BJ.  Yes ladies, please dress sexy, and put some effort into it.  We would for you.  We do for you.  You don’t have to be in a traditional relationship to celebrate Valentine’s Day, nor Steak and BJ day.  Just know your roles and play accordingly.

and yes, doing this is a plus.....

Let’s make March 14th a day we all look forward to, and do it WAY BIG!  On to other business….

The Infamous Foot Button.  I alluded to how a button was sewn on to my foot as part of my most recent surgery.  I never explained what the button was actually there for.

not a button like this....

or this, even though I kinda FEEL that way about it...

not as cool as this....

and definitely not this stupid button....

The button was part of a muscle re-route to make sure things healed correctly.  The surgery itself was to remove a ‘fibrous coalition’.  In other words I was born with fibrous tissue bonding two bones in my foot/ankle together.  This limited the range of motion my foot had.  The limited range of motion let to MANY ankle sprains, and ultimately tons of scar tissue, and arthritis in my foot.  After they removed the naughty fibrous tissue they needed something to fill the gap to make sure it didn’t grow back… enter the Infamous Foot Button.  The took some muscle and stretched it into the gap.  In order to hold it there long enough to heal over, they weaved sutures into in, and anchored them to the button on the bottom of my foot.  “But Dirty… how did they get the stitches to the button?” you may ask.  Big ass needles through my foot is the answer.  They literally stabbed two really big needles through my foot to run the stitches to the button.  Crazy shit, I know.  Don’t believe me, here is a pic….

The horror!!!!

I thought that damn button fell off and I had to rush to the doctor’s office to have my cast removed (HELL YEAH!!), only to find that the button was very much still in place.  I begged the doctor to leave the cast off, I felt so liberated, I was looking forward to… I don’t know….. wash my fucking filthy ass foot.  Either way I was denied by the medical professional in charge and on went a new cast.  I will go through this exact evolution again on Wednesday when I see the actual surgeon that worked on me, and I still go back into a cast for two more weeks.  The price of good health I guess……

Maybe it’s just me.  Probably it’s just me.  Am I the only one who runs into immense amounts of censorship on social networking sites?  I’ve had a whole account on MySpace cancelled, and I’ve just recently had a valid cause shut down without even a note from the site.  The MySpace thing went down years ago… you know, like before MySpace was a haven for child molesters and children in a rush to be molested (I can’t understand why a young girl would fake her age to be with a 30+ year old man, that’s the connection I make in my mind.  Don’t get offended, or do, I don’t care either way.) but it sucked to lose an account.  It’s like having your identity taken from you by some faceless asshole.

different process and your will NEVER forget the faces of those assholes!

The FaceBook incident was just today.  The cause was to spread the word on Steak and BJ Day.  A worthy cause if there ever was one.  I don’t put it up there with cancer research but it’s better than some of the other bullshit causes they allow.  I had just created the cause.  It was picking up momentum.  I was on my way to my goal to making this a reality, and it was all taken away, just like that.  Needless to say I’m a little pissed, but was it all me?  Did I simply choose the wrong forum for this cause?  We will see.  Here is the link to the new FB page dedicated to it.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/People-For-the-Celebration-of-March-14-Steak-and-BJ-Day/201560426521345?v=wall&sk=wall

Either way, these site have led to a generation of socially retarded people who seem to think their opinion matters (and yes I see the irony of that statement), especially Twitter.  So if you see the following icons, take heed and move with trepidation, because they all kinda suck….

easy to plug into, impossible to unplug from..

if you STILL use this site, you are going to hell for touching children... you nasty bastard!

The root word is twit. Few statements containing only 140 characters can be important..... just sayin...

And now time for the customary visual assault of WTF I’ve come accustomed to putting at the end of my blog.  Enjoy and be sure to leave a comment!

Actual statue in Korea...

for the avid fisherman I guess....

Japan, the undisputed champion of WTF

just in case you were about to argue my last caption...

you can't unsee any of this!

and yes, this blog is the shiznit

The day is upon us.  The day where men of all ages spend way too much money on stupid shit in an attempt to proves ones love.  The day where women with people in their lives are showered with gifts for simply having vaginas, and single women cry themselves into a food coma after taking down a tub of Super Choco Brownie Fudge ice cream because no one loves them or their vaginas.  Little kids will exchange valentines cards at school not fully understanding why.  Some kid will not get a card because he/she is WAY different than the other kids and probably smells a little bit like pee.  This kid will be sad, and someone might give them a card out of misplaced pity not to be mistaken of actual affection.  Get used to it kid, life has way more of that in store for you.  Today is Valentines Day.

Did you remember to buy something?

Men, make sure that you have SOMETHING planned for your special someone.  If there is no special someone, find the depressed lonely chick BEFORE she dives head first into a tub of ice cream for your best chance for a date.  If you do a good job you might even get to see her naked (YAY!).  Ladies, today you MUST shave yourselves down and actually behave like ladies for once.  Do something nice for the person in your life as well.  Attempt to cook something using a STOVE.  You know what a stove is right?  That big ass fire making thing you light your cigarettes on in the corner, is actually used in food preparation.  Gay couples, switch rolls just for today.  Tops, submit and be bottoms, bottoms take charge and be tops today.  You owe it to each other.  So I’ve been told at least.  Valentines day is the most artificial holiday ever.  You are supposed to take today to make your loved one feel a little bit more loved.  That whole concept is bullshit.  Everyday you should be showing your love to those who you hold near and dear.  You shouldn’t need some bullshit day set aside by some other asshole years ago to day that.  But hey who knows, if you play your cards right you might just get to slide into 5th Base.

yep, it's just what you thought it was....

Being as my wife DOES subscribe to the whole Valentines Day thing, I have spent money on things for her, as she has for me.  In Japan where my wife is from, the women shower the men with gifts.  Being as men are the breadwinners, that makes more sense, but women there do get shit on a little bit compared to here.  Hey, whatever arrangement you have with your other, just make sure it’s mutual.

we like chocolate too, when presented the correct way....

On to other business…..

DirtDiggler2823 just cracked the 10,000 hit mark.  I am pretty excited about this as it shows that this blog can be cool at least by accident.  To all the faithful readers I thank you.  To all those who stumbled upon this blog Google searching something horrible, I applaud you.  To all those who stumbled upon this blog, and stayed a while and actually read what I’d written, you have my many thanks.  This milestone of 10,000 hits does not yield me anything tangible, but it validates my writing as not to shabby.  Thank you all so much.  As a reward I will put up a few pics to commemorate valentines day.  Thank god for Japan…….

Japanese super heros

...and I'll pet it and love it and name it George......

A cock rocket? I can't compete with that! All I have is a wang laser....

And now you want one like this. Poor kitty, no pussy should look that sad.....

Happy Valentines Day you crazy kids!!

Enjoy, and leave a comment.

Today I will blog about another person who had a dramatic effect on my life.  This person is Sgt. Kenny Perkins, or better yet… Sgt. Kenny Perkins’ mustache.  I remember that mustache being two distinct thing… Big, and red, and horrible.  So three things.  From the moment we saw that horrible creature perched atop Kenny’s lip, we felt FORCED to ridicule him.  We had to purge that thing from our plane of existence lest it attempt a bid at world domination.  For about a week, another Sgt, and I took the time to apply peer pressure to Kenny in an attempt to shave that THING.  I would go so far as to say we were so effective that he contacted his mother for confirmation to what he already knew.  ” You will never have a mustache like your father Kenny” she said.  To which we said “Who’s your dad, Yosemite Sam?!”  You may wonder what the creature I described looks like so you may banish it as well if you ever happen upon it.  I have enclosed a picture……

pay no attention to the man the 'stache is controlling, and try not to look directly into it's eyes.... it may seize your soul......

The ‘stache by itself…..

It normally consumes human souls, but every once and a while it goes for rabbit.

I have also included a picture of Kenny’s dad….. I think.

artist's depiction

Notice any resemblance?

In all honesty Sgt. Kenny Perkins is not a bad guy at all.  Once you look past that he’s from “New England” and is a “Patriots” fan, he’s not a bad guy.  He has had his fair share of bad luck as all of would have.  His reactions however were all his.  I will not get into any of that because I don’t know enough about them to sound remotely intelligent.  I will say this, Kenny, just like the mighty cockroach is indestructible and will outlive us all.

Now onto other things.

I recently had my ankle surgery as of last Friday.  I am currently in a cast and I have been told NOT to put weight on it.  I have already been to one follow up with my doctor and I was not prepared for what I saw when I saw my foot for the first time after surgery.

not a zombie foot... not yet

That cut is WAY bigger than I expected, but that was nothing compared to what was on the bottom of my foot….

dude.... it's a button.... on my foot.... what?

Yes, that little circular thing is a button sewn onto my foot.  BUTTON SWEN ONTO MY FOOT!  I still can’t get over that.  I have metal cables in my shoulder holding things together, but since I can’t see them it’s not big deal.  The button, however temporary is right there.  It’s simply too much for me to completely wrap my mind around at this point.  Other than that, my foot is pretty painless.  I can feel the suture itch every once and a while but no real pain.  I can’t complain about that at all.  Good job doctor!

My employment arrangement post Marine Corps are working out just fine.  Looks like I will not only have a job, but be well paid just as I was planning on.  Well, here’s to 10 years of planning and just having it fall in your lap.

OH HELL YEAH!!!

Rude people of the Wal-Mart parking lot, I have an announcement to make:  Even on these crutches, pending separation from the Marine Corps, fat and black, I am and always will be better than you.  As you drive SPEED by in your late 90’s POS vehicle making eye contact while not letting me cross the road remember this.  Your acting like an asshole won’t fill the hole in your soul where your parents/spouse/drug addiction/what-fucking-ever lies.  You are wasting my beloved oxygen, and I demand you stop immediately.  That is all, carry on.

If that box could drive, it would frequent Wal-Mart.

Yes, that is a 4 pack of douches she is holding.  I fucking hate going to Wal-Mart…..

they have a parody website for a reason......

Well that’s all for today.  There is always more I could talk about but today I keep it short.  I hope you enjoyed it.  Oh and here’s your reward for finishing this blog…..

yeah... my thoughts exatcly....

If you have ANY idea is to what in the hell is going on in this pic feel free to leave a comment.  I you have NO idea, and just want to leave a comment, go right ahead.  Holy crap!

Before we even start I have to reaffirm something:  Fuck skinny jeans.  Please watch the following video and tell the young men that now even the young women are turning on them.

This blog marks the beginning of a new series for me.  I will be telling the stories of some of the people in my life as I saw/see them.  All of them will be unauthorized, and abridged, and will have significant gaps where either my memory fails me, of I was never told.  There may even be a few “misremembered” facts.  I might just embellish, with hold, or down right lie.  I won’t be on purpose….. I promise.  Today we start with one of my peers who had a profound positive influence on my life.  A good friend of mine James Martinez.

Hey recruit!!

I met James Martinez when I checked into the barracks at 1st Marine Division, Comm Company, in 33 Area Camp Pendleton, California.  At the time I was a radio operator fresh from a tour in Okinawa, Japan.  I was none too excited to be rooming with a ‘wire pig’ as I was taught to call them because they were a lower life form for us (so I was told).  Enter at the time Corporal Martinez, reeking of Jack in the Crack grease and hard work.  I have just met my new roommate and the adventure begins.  Things were cool from the get go though.  We talked and found out that we have more in common than most people.  I must admit that at this point in my life, I was rather immature and I didn’t know a lot about being self-reliant and responsible.  James taught me how to balance my work load.  James taught me how to keep my room clean.  James taught me how to work on my car, a skill that would come in handy many times because most of the vehicles I would own in this early time in my life would in fact be pieces of shit.  James taught me how to install my own car stereo, and make the shit go BOOM!  Needless to say, I learned a lot from James, and I owe him a lot.  I knew he was madly in love with his girl back home.  I think her name was Alli, but I might be wrong.  Alli was having pain in her knee all the time and was being bounced from doctor to doctor all the while being told that nothing was wrong with her.  I just figured her knee was like mine, shit hurt just because.  James went home on leave to spend some time with his family, and his lady.  When he returned his head was bald and he was married.  I had no idea why he had just done that.  I knew that marriage was still a ways off for them, but he then told me about how Alli was diagnosed with cancer.  The pain in her knee was a tumor, and since it had been ignored by doctors, and she had been disregarded, it had gone other places.  Now I don’t know if the cancer originated in her knee, or if that’s just where they found it, but either way James was now 100% dedicated to this woman, and would stick by her until the end, whenever that was.  I admired that about him.  I admired his commitment to his convictions.  James was and still is a stand up guy, good to have in your corner.  Around this time he was promoted to Sergeant, which is the finest rank the Marine Corps has ever housed.  He worked his magic to be home with his girl on Humanitarian Orders and was able to get his wife into one of the finest cancer centers in the country.  At this point he was gone.  He was no longer my roommate.  I lost contact with him while he tended to his wife, and I started my own family.  I always wondered where he was, how he was doing, how he looked now.  The guy that I shared a barracks room with.  The guy that I shared a squad bay with.  They guy who knew the true identity of Black Naked Ass Man.  The guy I would drink may beers with.  The guy I had shared many a road trip to L.A. with, was now officially off the grid.  I owe my life as it is now to him.  He told me about my current job, Technical Control as he was on his way to becoming one before his wife got sick.  I would have never known it even existed if not for him.  Late last year after nearly a decade I received a friend request on Facebook from a James Martinez.  Time stopped for a short time for me.  Holy shit, my dude is alive!  Once we reconnected, phone calls were made and we caught up, but like a true friend it was if no time had ever really passed.  He did drop off the map after the death of his wife Alli.  It was devastating for him to see his most loved one die, as it would be for any of us.  He lost direction for a short time, and his desire to be with people.  He has since healed from the loss of his wife, and remarried.  He now has a beautiful family whom I hope to meet soon.

 

The babies and...

the wife!

 

James now lives in his native New Mexico working his ass off to provide for the people shown above.  As far as I know he is happy with his life, and family.  Good stuff!  I’m sure there are inaccuracies in this story, but I did my best to capture who I saw James as.  He is a great guy who I will be having a beer with once again soon enough.

On to other business…..

I recently took test over the phone for a position with ITT as a satellite technician.  Let me make this clear to all who stumble upon this post, I may work with satellite techs, I may work with satellite operators, but I am not nor have I ever been a satellite anything.  I failed that test life it was a fucking XBox achievement.

 

 

as shown on my mental HUD during the test

 

 

 

I took this test in the hopes that it would lead to something other than failure.  I knew I wasn’t a sat tech, but just maybe I could work thing and find a job anyway doing SOMETHING.  I asked how I did on the test, and I was told in so many words that I sucked balls.  Noted fuckers, this is not what I’ve been doing for the last 9 years.  I then asked if they needed any Technical Control guys, and they got all excited and said that they were in dire need of Tech Controllers.  WTF?!  My resume says Technical Control Chief, not Satellite Maintenance Specialist.  Either way, this led to being asked about one of the pieces of gear I DO operate quite frequently.  The Promina.  They asked if I knew how to operate a Promina.  I said yes.  They asked which Prominas I’ve worked with.  I told the Promina 400 and 800.  They got super excited.  I now have another phone interview/test next week.  Good things can come from shitty situations if you refuse to lose.

Next week I start my separations classes, do my pre-surgery work up, and take another phone test.  Quite the busy week.  The following week I have to drive my daughter 2 hours to a plastic surgeon so we can finally close the book on her dog bite and move forward.  They next day, I go under the knife and repair one more defect in my body.  Damned this shitty warranty.  Things are coming together quite nicely.  I think we will be set for success by the time the govt stops paying me as an active Marine, and starts as a guy who’s body got the shit kicked out of in over a 13 year military career.  Oh, I plan to have a job by the time that happens as well.

Time for the reward for reading this far down…..

 

she will somehow blame someone else for this, but when she tries using her lasso as a belt, she will fess up.

Feel free to leave a comment.  Have a great day.