Ghurka Meter

Memorial Day is upon us again & I'm honored to add to my blog today, Words from my better half in Kabul, Afghanistan!!

Honey, You are my HERO, I adore you.....Hurry Home~

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I love my guys from Nepal…….but…….they are definitely different from us (expats)…..just go in the mess hall…you will see what I mean…I don’t mind eating by myself…I actually prefer it….its my quiet time..so I find a table way in the back….there is a bookshelf about five feet tall behind it…and that is where I sit…ahhh….peace and quiet……then it happens……“Meester meester…why u heer….you no freends“….”No really…I’m fine!”

“Weee come seet wid you….okay!!”….”Really guys…I’m alright!!”……I now have thirteen Ghurkas sitting next to me at a table designed for eight…..its very cozy…sigh…..they all practice their english on me…..they think they are speaking english…I have no idea what they are saying…I just nod a lot…

I pray for night shift..here is why…during the day at my outside posts…..I am surrounded by Ghurkas…..I have one off to my left…about 20 feet away…..I have one behind me..he’s 50 feet away…and let’s not forget the one to the right…about 30 feet away…

Now this wouldn’t be a problem except…you guessed it….they want to talk…..and after speaking with me for five minutes…I’m exhausted….they then talk with each other….I now have Ghurka stereo for the next hour and ten minutes….yahhhhh!!!
Now these are the same guys that were on break together during the last rotation…I can only imagine what they’re saying….”So Nishka…..have you heard from your family back in Nepal…I mean since we last talked ten minutes ago….noo….that is too bad…..Ghangi…I am looking forward to my curry baloney sandwich for lunch….I will trade you my sandwich for your unrecognizable cabbage hotdog and a pound of rice…..

“Kinko…….I am looking forward to sitting with the poor American who has no friends….the one with no hair and big head…yes..he is very ugly…….he must be very saaad…maybe tonight we can get 18 Ghurka at the table instead of 13...this will make him very happy…I think!!

As I sit stand there at my post…putting in my earplugs….I think we should do an experiment….here’s my plan……each hour slowly move the Ghurka post farther from each other….you know …lets say ten feet…..initially what would happen is my Ghurkas would just talk louder….and louder…..now shouting…then there would be beautiful silence…..I’m thinking 100 feet will do the trick…

This is about the same range I can throw a grenade or shoot my pistol accurately (unlike my better half….I am a lousy shot with my pistol…that is why I figure they give me three magazines)….so now you see the importance of my findings….right…okay let me explain…my Ghurka meter is like having my own range finder….I now know the range to engage the bad guys or make myself another cup of coffee…

I going to the boss with my thesis…..maybe I’ll get a coin…..like Billy….and all he did was detain the wrong guy who happened to look a lot like a terrorist…..loser!
until then…

stereo boy signing off….

Angry Joe

WARNING; NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT OR PG RATED...READ AT OWN RISK!

Angry Joe..

On the project..it would be safe to say that we have some real characters….but think about it…characters are the type of people who come to these God-forsaken places…they tend not to do so well in general society…

I would see this time and time again in the military…guys who were your star performers in a tactical situation…would be the first ones on the MP blotter report when we received a little free time back at the fort. Doing wheelies on your motorcycle through the Post Headquarter’s flowerbed does not help a soldier’s popularity rating…except among his peers…we all thought it was funny!

Here in Kabul…One of our characters here is fondly referred to as Angry Joe….Joe has over 26 years active military service…retired as a First Sergeant versus a Sergeant Major because he probably told a General to get bent!

No matter what kind of horrible day you might be having…Angry Joe will always top it….”Joe I think I sprained my ankle on the curb outside.” “That aint shit…..the g--damn Afghan Police clipped me with his f---ing motorcycle and now I think I’ve compressed my spinal cord…I probably have a concussion and I’m constipated… so stop your whining you sissy!”

Now a conversation like this will happen at least once a day…therefore….the endearing nickname “Angry Joe” has stuck for our retired First Sergeant….oh…and one other thing…Joe is homophobic….which is great ammo for Billy and I….it’s actually impossible for us not to put a jab in…just to see Joe’s expressions and of course the replies he always has for us…which are colorful to say the least…

Joe talks like John Wayne…he uses that pause in his presentation to really place special emphasis on a certain swear word….you know…so it has extra special meaning…unlike the other hundred times you hear the word !!

Now here is the best part…Joe likes me….it’s not that I have done anything special to gain his acceptance…I think he just dislikes me less than anybody else here…so now were buds. …he barely tolerates Billy…(Joe doesn’t like people who live in Colorado…thinks they‘re uppity)

Off to Camp Eggers today….why you ask….because we can!” Plus Billy needed a case of his Monster energy drinks…so he drags me along to help him carry them….I usually get a coffee (ground not instant) out of the deal…I’m in!

As were walking past Angry Joe’s barracks….he is almost finished with his first pack of cigarettes (it’s 9am)…the butts are heaped up into a neat little pile by his foot. ”Hey Sh-tbirds….where the hell are you two going.” …. “Were going to Eggers”…..”Well hell…I think I’ll tag along…you two retards don’t have a problem with that…do you?”

“No First Sergeant…I mean Joe (old habits die hard)…..our driver pulls up…he is actually the relief driver….he is replacing Mohammad……are you ready for this…his name is Mohammad Mohammad….no joking! So off in the van we go with Mohammad Mohammad….us three and four terrified Ghurkas….I believe they think Joe eats Ghurkas for a light snack…”Get in the back…and be quiet!”….and this is Joe talking to Billy and I.

I was going to protest but I actually like the view from the third seat….really!!

We get to Eggers..no drama to mention…same as always…the roads were completely congested and packed with humanity…everything from toyota vans…bicycles…dump trucks…pedestrians…donkey carts…so we did what we normally do…we call our driver all sorts of questionable names…of course we question his manhood….and basically be complete morons to this poor guy….this causes Mohammad Mohammad to prove us wrong….he drives like a certified madman! On the median…over a sidewalk…through a field….across a ditch…watch the goat!…..you know…the normal stuff.

We think he doesn’t mind our harmless pranks…I guess when he doesn’t show up to take us back to Sully…we’ll know he’s reached his limit…until then…he’s ours!!

As planned…Billy gets his Monster drinks…I get my coffee…and Joe buys all the cigarettes behind the counter…like 12 cases….that should last him a week or so…

We get back to the pick-up area for the van…..for some reason….the little hoodlums that normally pester us are keeping their distance……I think they have had dealings with Joe and don’t need the aggravation….they would be better off trading with the Taliban!

Oh Gee...our driver is late (what a surprise!)…..Joe now feels the need to bond…..

”Hey Jack…you ever serve in Germany?”….

“Yeah Joe…I was in the Berlin Brigade…

“Oh..you were in that spit-n-polish sissy unit…no wonder you’re the way you are!“…(Joe has such a special way of making you feel part of the conversation.)

“You see Jack…I was in a man’s unit….I was a Cav Soldier….and I better not hear any laughing from you two D-ckwads!….blah….blah….blah…blah“

I sip on my coffee…..nod politely…..that is what you do with Joe…

Joe now has come to the most crucial part of any soldier story…describing the women that he supposedly dated....describing the wild parties that only exist in a soldier’s over active imagination....

At this point in the conversation Joe is talking directly to me….as if I was actually interested….

“Yeah Jack….the reason I did so well with the ladies is because I had two rules about dating …..but dammit….one time I violated my own rules….the first one was never date a chick in your own unit……and…..(this is where Joe used his John Wayne pause)…..well too bad for Joe because Billy jumps in and says “And the other one was to never have sex with a man!”

Immediately coffee comes shooting out of every orifice in my head….unfortunately I was in mid gulp when Billy dropped this bombshell…

The look on Joe’s face was priceless…..I’m not sure if the comment bothered him that much…but me laughing so hard kinda got to him....I actually think I peed on myself..

“So Sh-tHead…this is the way it is…and I thought we were f--------- buds!”

“Joe…I didn’t say anything!”

“Just for that…..we’re not buds anymore!!”

THANK YOU BILLY!

Angry Joe’s former bud…signing off…

Next Monday: Roger's Rangers

Nice Watch?

So, Today is MilitaryMonday & My GuestBlogger, BestFriend & FavoriteHusband didn't write a blog for me to post, That got me to thinking of this recent email he sent me: Topic

"How his day was going"

....on my last mission to the Afghanistan Airport, The police guard wouldn't open the gate...he went over to my driver, they had a heated discussion for about two minutes....the guard finally threw up his hands and open the gate...as we are pulling out I asked my driver "What the heck that was all about?"

Are you ready for this, my driver said the police officer wanted his shoes before he would open the gate....

Now, Let's put this in prospective...You are driving thru the toll booth at DFW International Airport, You pull up & the booth operator looks into your car and says..> "Nice Watch".....

BBQ . . . . . Afgan Style. . .

BBQ …Afghan Style…

I was recently was talking to my Better Half…and I was being scolded for being tardy with my blog…my comment “Honey…haven’t you been watching the news…bad people are trying to blow up Kabul…I’ve been a little busy.”….she informed me..the war could wait…do your blog!...so here it is…

I was making good time on my crocodiles…I had firmly placed my feet between the shoulders of my two behemoths (cuff n link)…the better half is waving to me from an island..she is wearing her red flannel jammies with the built in footies..…I can almost hear her…..shhhhhh….

BAM BAM….DUMB ASS…WAKE UP…I respond accordingly…GO AWAY….

You’re sleeping the day away (it is now 10am…got off night shift at 7am)..you can sleep when you’re dead (what a ridiculous saying!)

I pull myself out of my bunk…walk over to the door…open it…oh it’s the Coin Bitch (let me explain)...Billy is from Texas…he’s Texan thru and thru…from his 250 pound frame…twangy accent..crooked smile..and Texas tattoo the size of a salad plate…that’s Billy

He is sort of a celebrity…Billy detained an eastern European dude who looked exactly like one of the terrorist we are looking for….blonde hair..big head..blue eyes…pointy ears…oh great!...I just described me!

Anyway…he grabs this guy out of the car and sits on him…poor guy…as it turns out his credentials check out and he really is who he said he was…but when you don't speak Albanian..it sort of gets lost in the translation..anyway the bosses at the top were extremely impressed with Billy’s alertness…even if it was the wrong guy….so we had a ceremony and Billy got a coin…Billy is now fondly called the Coin Bitch…I think I am going to get him a T-shirt with that printed on it…I just haven’t found a t-shirt the size of a small family sedan to print it on…

Back to reality…In the doorway…Billy is grinning…come on…let’s go to Eggers….I reply…no…he replies..we’ll take the new guy….you mean the one who said he would never leave the compound because its not safe out there….yeah…I’ll be dressed in five minutes..…

We now proceed to the new guy’s room…he has violated the first rule of all security professional…always lock your door because people like Billy and me will bother you when you least expect it…this poor kid had only been in country less than a week…and didn’t like what he saw….Billy and I feel it’s time for a little shock treatment to get him “up to speed”…it’s the least we can do…being fellow comrades and all..

We open the door and he sleeping like an angel…Billy grabs one leg and I get the other…we commence to drag him out of bed..one small problem…my leg somehow got on the other side of the bunk post and we were sort of breaking him like a chicken wish bone…about this time..he woke up..screaming….which actually is a good sign…I think…I immediately tried to calm him…”you can sleep when you’re dead!”….for some reason this comment sounds better when I’m saying it……

As I said earlier..Billy easily goes 250 and I am a svelte 225..our victim weighs around 160…I’ve had rucksacks weigh more than this kid…our victim is holding on to the bunk as it skids across the floor…we’ve almost got him in the hallway except the bunk wont fit thru the door…so this is when we attempted to mentor and coach him… “get up girly man…put your big boy pants on…does your Va Jay Jay hurt…..cluck cluck!!”……you all know how this goes…like getting you brother to canoe down the calm river with you..which turns into rapids..which turns into a waterfall…something like that..

Finally..I pull out the big guns…okay chicken boy…you can drive….really?...yes really..now get dressed! We will meet you in 5 minutes at the parking are…and clean this room up…it’s a mess!!

As we’re walking down the stairs Billy whispers to me…are we really going to let him drive?....are you kidding!!...Billy felt better…

Somehow we had acquired the Surf…it’s similar to a Toyota suv…but on the outside of the vehicle there is a big word “Surf” on the side of the vehicle…go figure…going on this foray is four old timers and the new kid…as promised he shows up on time…like a lamb to the slaughter…he walks up and immediately heads for the driver side..my boss blurts out…”what in the world are you doing?”….Jack said I could drive….boss replies…”well there’s two things wrong with that…first..you haven't been thru the driver’s training course and second…never listen to Jack…now get in the back! I get the look… but its from a new guy so it doesn’t count…Billy and I put him between us in the backseat..

The boss starts the suv…we start rolling forward….brakes!!......okay..who has a weapon…front guy shows his pistol…Billy shows his pistol…I show my hands in my best Karate pose…Boss’s response....”you’re kidding me right”…I show my pistol….now the new kid’s eyes get huge…”I don’t have a pistol!!...Billy explained….don't worry…we have plenty….this didn’t seem to calm him….we also explained to him that historically vehicles are taken out by massive improvised explosive devices (IED’s) and not small arms fire…this also didn’t calm him…okay…hold mine you little wussy baby!!...(very professional dialogue as you can see)

The ride to Eggers was uneventful…we only had eight or nine close calls…about the norm….as we pull into Eggers…we are promptly informed that our vehicle did not have the proper plates to enter the compound…what made this so funny was the fact that we had NO plates on the vehicle…

We are told we must go to the “special” gate and get a “special” pass….of course we are not near the “special” gate…so off we go…we drive about a mile and to our surprise (not really)..there is a detour…then another…and one more…we are now a gadzillion miles from the “special” gate and that’s as the donkey trots….so we decide we really didn’t want to go to Eggers anyway…Boss…”hey guys..lets get some steaks and have a BBQ”…who am I to say no to a BBQ….let’s go!!

Jumping three concrete medians…and going the wrong way on two traffic circles…we end up out side an un-assuming building with a sign… “Fat Fred’s Meat Forest”…..really..I can’t make this stuff up….the shop is owned by an American…but run by Afghans..its on a four lane highway with no parking…we pull up on the curb…slash sidewalk…we leave the suv running with one old timer and the new guy…the rest of us pile out and trot into the shop…we are greeted by three great guys who are only too proud to show us their products….after a small debate…we decide on the sirloin steaks….they bring out a quarter of a cow and commence to carve off our steaks….Holy Moly!!!...close to two inches thick and the size of a hubcap off of a 1958 Buick Road-master… I begin salivating…

We pack our trophy meat into a bag and head back out to the suv….and then I spot him…he’s on the other side of the road…..he has a cart loaded with hundreds of those skinny long balloons…you know…the ones you saw at the rich kid’s birthday party where the clown with a hangover made little animals from them….I had the strongest urge to make a crocodile…..or poodle…

I get halfway across the road and I’m waving a dollar bill….this is like a flame for a moth…..the man quickly pushes his cart out into the road and we begin to barter…I knew I would get at least three or four…but I want more!!

We now have traffic backed up for half a kilometer and my boss has now threatened me with KP duty if I didn’t “get my ass back here now!” (party pooper)…I returned empty handed…jumped into the Surf…and off we go…another five or six close calls and we are back at camp…

The charcoal had been left out in the rain….so we did what every man would do…..diesel….lots of it…gas was also an option…it just so happened that the diesel was closer (economy of effort.. right guys)

Now in our defense…we think we only put a quart on the charcoal…but I wasn’t there when the first quart was put on…so I put a quart on….and I think Billy might have put some on…so I can say with some authority that the following incident was Billy’s fault..

When we finally threw the lighted stick onto the grill and witnessed the fireball and heard the woosh from all the oxygen being sucked out of the air…I was particularly impressed with the way the shade screen on the gazebo melted back…simultaneously…the Ghurka in the far gun tower sounded the fire alarm…personally I think the Ghurka over reacted… and when Billy and I got up from the ground.. we discussed his premature use of the alarm..then started throwing dirt on the rose bush across the road which had caught fire…

After just an hour..we were able to get close enough to the grill to burn..I mean grill our sides of beef..I’m sure the glow from our grill could have been seen from space….it could have been used for some type of navigational aid for aircraft transversing our area…

I drag my charred meat off the grill and without a plate or utensils…I eat my side of beef with my bare hands…now this is real man food…I also noticed I no longer had any hair on my knuckles or forearms…from my elbows down…I’m as bare as a new-born baby….I really don’t mind…except the new guys even thinks it’s funny….no balloon for him!

Grillmaster signing off…

Cricket Anyone?

It's Monday & My Guest Blogger, My Better Half & My Best Friend will now share his Humor from Afghanistan with us: Please Enjoy, I know I am enjoying his words.

I must say…we have a plethora of entertainment option here at Camp Sully…we can watch TV….go to the gym….or watch TV…..hmmm…I’m not sure but I think we’ve got a pattern here.

So today…I think I will watch TV…and now for the choices…

First…we have the five Indian channels…I’m not sure why we need five…since basically the same thing is being shown on every channel….now for my initial observation….if you just want relaxing and peaceful TV….DON’T WATCH THIS!!

The women…are always dressed to the nines…even in the most remote village with nothing but goat paths and these women all look like they’re going to the High School Prom..…

Now the women are a bit over the top on the drama side…they all seem to be crying…or making some other woman cry…the men are usually yelling at the women (who are crying)….or slapping another man who has displayed some type of social mishap …..you know…like serving curry with peanut butter….you just never are quite sure why the poor guy is getting beat up…but it seemed to fit the plot…so slap away!!

This slapping thing then progresses to a full blown street fight….with Kung Fu kicking ….Karate chopping….and yes…slapping…

This fight scene involves about a gazillion guys….not sure where they all came from…because they were not present during the initial crying-slapping phase of the plot….distant cousins I guess…

Eventually, one side commences to get the dirty end of the stick….this is when the guns come out….yeah babeee!!

These guns all appear out of nowhere….and we’re not just talking Saturday Night Special Pea Shooters…

We’re talking AK-47s….shotguns…grenades…flamethrowers….samurai swords….you know…just the normal stuff that you might find in a Texan’s closet…

This battle rages on for a good 20 minutes…with a generous portion of the time dedicated to facial expressions (my favorite part)…you know what I’m talking about…..like when you are sixteen and get caught in your dad’s liquor cabinet…in my case it was more like a cardboard box full of PBR…only the best for my dad…oh yeah…and don’t forget the sound effects….Yaaaahhh!! Oweeearrrgh! Waaahiii!!…and that’s just during the warm-up slapping phase..

Once the Kung Fu shooting portion is complete then the final scene usually involves a huge dance sequence where everybody get’s back up and dances….usually in front of a fountain or a cow pasture…it just depends if the people involved are city or country folk…makes sense to me….The End

Then there is Nepalese TV…we have two channels of that…the first one consists of a lot of praying…..and some humming….then it shows the national flag flying…then it repeats itself…ohhhh about every twenty minutes….I’m good for about three..

Now here is where the Indians either copied from the Nepalese or visa versa…that’s right…we’re back in the pasture for a song number…..the leading lady is always attractive…slim and pretty…now her back-up singers are a different story…they look “plow ready”…and I’m being kind.

All the lead male dancers look like…well…Elvis…they can’t seem to grow sideburns so they just grow their hair to look like sideburns…gee…nobody will be able to tell!!

Oh yeah…and the best part…they sound like they’re on helium….moving on…

The last channel…and not my favorite…is the international sports channel…this is where they play all the sports that Americans go…..HUH!!??!!??

First, we have soccer…as one of our famous football coaches said…If God had wanted us to play soccer…he would not have given us arms…enough said about soccer…

Then we have Rugby…unfortunately they don’t show this nearly enough…it’s actually a pretty cool sport….has everything us guys want…blood…hard hits…strategy…fast-pace…but..no cheerleaders…so they lose points on that…

Then we have Cricket…if you recall…I have mentioned this hideous sport in an earlier account…..let me go into some detail at this time…which is quite painful for me..

The sport entails two teams…dressed exactly the same….all white clothes with really preppy sweaters…I still haven’t figured out how they keep the teams straight…

Anyway…one of these preppy fellows throws a rubber ball at another preppy fellow …now this guy is holding a stick…it actually looks a lot like a half of a kayak paddle…he then wails on this rubber ball….the best part is when everybody acts like they know where the ball is going to go….of course it has other ideas…..so the ball lands way out in this manicured field (Nepalese could use it for a dance number)…and then everybody claps…

I asked my South Africans…do they really enjoy or understand the sport…and they finally admitted to me....that a particular game may go on for days…..so this allows them to miss a lot of work and drink enormous quantities of beer….

NOTE: The following is from the official rules Other ways runs can be scored according to the cricket rules include no balls, wide balls, byes & leg byes. Cricket rules state that all runs scored by these methods are awarded to the batting team but not the individual batters.

I prefer the wide ball and No Ball scoring method…versus the notorious Leg Byes…I mean…that should be clear to everybody!!

When I watch Cricket…I tend to go into a coma after six or seven minutes and fall onto the floor…at which time somebody has to get the defibrillator off the wall and revive me…this has happened so many times that I have gone ahead and shaved my chest and put little X’s on my torso where the pads should be positioned…...my South Africans appreciate this…it cuts down on their non-beer drinking time…

Cricket boy signing off...

Esss Broken

** It's Monday & That means it's time for "Humor from Afghanistan" and my Husband has not failed us, His tail of going shopping left me in stitches!,,, I hope you enjoy & If you do please leave Jack a Comment **

Broken versus Unbroken…

Tsk…tsk…tsk….meeester….tsk…tsk…tsk!!!

I’m in an alley surrounded by mud huts….concrete barriers and four bony fingers pointing at me and scolding me…..you remember…like when you get caught dressing the family dog in your sister’s clothes…plus our dog only had three legs (not kidding) …her name was Sugar…she was like a Blue Tick Healer except a mongrel…so it was always a challenge to get everything to stay on until she ran down the street in front of all my sister’s friends (thank goodness for duct tape)…I believe I am the cause for my sister being held back a grade that year….yes!!

By the way….everything in the first sentence is my wife’s fault…….really!!

I bought a purse from a small Afghan boy which is hand sewn by the locals…it isn’t very big….but the workmanship is first rate and it is absolutely beautiful…besides…it was three bucks…

My bride never calls me cheap…just extremely frugal…..hmmm…I think it was taking her to the “dollar” theater after we first met….and yes…I had her smuggle in popcorn in her purse….I obviously couldn’t get it in my wallet…(hey…good excuse to carry a man purse like they do in Europe…..NOT!…..but I digress)…that stuff at the movies is outrageous!!……..everything was fine until we added the butter…you figure it out..

So the wife and I are skyping and I make the mistake of showing her present….”oh honey…that is sooo cute….you must get me more….you must!”…..ok….now I have a “honey do” mission and I am only 9000 freakin miles away…geesh!

So I have a day off…..no rest for the weary…..I sign up to ride the eight passenger van of death to complete my mission….first…I must trick the 15 or so Ghurkas into letting me have a seat so I don’t have to ride on the roof rack like the last time…just as the van pulls up I throw down two handfuls of tootsie rolls…HA…that oughta hold them for a second…I jump over the scrambling mass of squirming humanity and dive into the van…and I have seat…YES!…I wrap my arm around the seatbelt in case I doze off and they try to throw me out while the van is moving…

I am HIGH SPEED LOW DRAG…..ok…if you are not an Army type…that’s ok…I’ll explain…the term refers to a thing or person who at that particular moment is “all that and a bag of chips“….…I’m not sure if the Marines use that particular saying…but I bet they have something similar….that’s just the way we roll!!

Now this van is nothing special…it is one of those Toyota mini vans where the driver sits over the front wheel like some kind of sick circus ride….and they are all dog-butt ugly in about every way……...except one…..and that is exactly why I need ONE!

I make fun of the better half for buying bottled water because the bottle is “pretty”…..well…I’m no better….I have succumbed to the same vice…except for me it’s the name….yep….these mini vans look identical in every way except for their names….

“SUPER ACE VELOCITY…..LIMITED

“TURBO POWER SUPER HYPER………LIMITED

My favorite “TOURISIMO MAXIMUS EXOTICA…..LIMITED

Not sure what the LIMITED is all about….but they all have it….so I guess I need the LIMITED….right?

Where were we…oh yeah…..I get to Camp Eggers…..imagine a double E ride at Disney world on steroids…now you have some idea of what it is like to ride with our “designated” driver…of course a local…he is a cross between Eviel Knievel and Mario Andretti….with a little Spunge Bob thrown in for interest…I’m not sure where we found this guy…I think when the war first started we bombed an Insane Asylum and he wandered out of his padded cell to Camp Sully…

I am now wandering thru the maze of hescos (google) to get to the Post Exchange…PX…now most PX’s actually have useful things to buy….unfortunately Eggers doesn’t fall into that category…I really didn’t need any feminine hygiene products, Pringles or a magazine on how to trick out a Humvee….so I went to the coffee shop…..

You can actually get a fresh cup of really good coffee (The Green Bean)…..

and now the moment I dread…its time to catch the van (I like to call it Exotica) back to Sully….but wait…….there he is….lurking in the shadows…my little seven year old Sharkster….with his henchmen….which consisted of another seven year old, eight year old and a niner…….my leeetle friend has purses to sell me…….

So we begin to haggle over the price…this is my favorite part…it involves a lot of fist shaking…arm waving…kicking the dirt and spitting (my favorite part)….I’m just glad I’m not required to whistle…let’s just say I’m challenged in that department…I pucker up and blow and absolutely nothing comes out except air….it’s quite sad to witness this defect and I usually must be bribed with some type of adult beverage before I willingly humiliate myself…

We agree on a price ….I am pleased with my efforts…I wipe the sweat from my brow and pay my purse vender exactly what I paid him the last time…I was robbed….again!!

I hand him a fist full of wadded up ones and we shake on the transaction…this is where the situation went south on me…as I turn to walk away… my leeetle friend nonchalantly asks me if I would like to trade him a $20 dollar bill for all the $1 dollar bills I just gave him (they get a better exchange rate from the money changer dude)….sure why not……he excitedly pulls out all his $1 dollar bills and commences to count them out….he was amazing….nobody in Vegas has the dexterity of this kid….he counted out those bills so fast it sounded like a card taped to a bicycle wheel…..tictictictictictic…

And he was counting so fast it ran all together….

onetwothreefourfivsixseveigtnintenelevtwelvthirtnfrtnfiftnsxtnsevntneightnnintnTWENTEEEE

He really liked emphasizing the TWENTEEE…what a showman…

So I pull out my $20 dollar bill and attempt to hand it to the ringleader….this is when it happened….Spanky and the Gang all took a step back…took a deep breath and began to tsk tsk tsk tsk me… and point at me with their pointy little digits! They all stared at my $20 dollar bill like a bunch of goats staring at a new fence…

Meeester…Meesster….it is broken!!

This particular $20 bill had a tear in it approximately 100^th of a millimeter on the edge….it eees broken!! Well I tell you…this kid was madder than the guy who found out his blind date was with Janet Reno..

So I dig into my man purse (just joking) and I give my leeetle friend a fresh new crisp $20 bill which wasn’t broken….whew!!

I was exhausted… I looked at friend who was doubled over in Hyena-style

Laughter….I persuaded him not to talk on how I was run roughshod by a seven year old..…I promised him a tube of Pringles and I would show him my shiny bullet…

We see the van….its coming our way….we begin to walk towards it….out of the corner of my eye I see a woman with an armful of scarves….she is walking like a mad woman…tracking my friend and I like a wire-guided missile….the van…the women…BLAM!!…the woman wins….she is out of breath (but so are we)….she’s speaks….Pashmina…Pashmina…..now we’re talking!!

She is holding on to the side of the van as it is trying to pull away… Pashmina….Pashimina….I yell…how much….she replies….four dollar for you special meester……STOP THE VAN!!!….screech…thump…(van stopped…woman didn’t)

Ahaaa…finally…I’m not the one getting taken to the cleaners….this poor women…my superior intellect and business prowess has finally won the day…..well….that’s what I thought anyway….as we drive off I pull my Scarf out of the plastic (that should have been the first sign)…and read the label…it doesn’t say Pashmina……it says Pash--Ninja……I am told by the driver as he went over the curb to try and hit a pedestrian…that my scarf was made from the finest cat hair available….

I do love my scarf…but…..I have the strongest urge to cough up a hair ball every time I wear it…

Broken Boy….signing off

*************

Thank you my frugal husband, I can't wait to see my purses,,,,,I Love You!

Crammed Buuf Gone?

It's Monday & you know what that means, The Better Half, My guest blogger has brought us another view into his life while in Afghanistan!!,,, I hope you are enjoying these blogs as much as his family are! Routine... Life would be anarchy without routine....please...let me explain....on my work days I get up extra early in the morning...this is part of my routine....and you ask...”But why Jack?” trust me...I'm not trying to be the over-achiever that nobody can stand...you know...the guy in class who continually has his hand up to ask another stupid question when the break period is only ten minutes long... The reason I get up extra early is this....when I first got here I would wake up when everybody else did...I would then go to the mess hall...wait in line my mandatory 13 minutes......and get my breakfast...while in line...every Ghurka in Afghanistan...some I don't think are even based at my camp will come up to me while in line and wish me a “very good morning!”......ok....it's 0345.....why is it a good morning again?? The one thing that causes me to go to breakfast is two words.....CREAMED BEEF.....I dont know where my Afghan cook learned how to make it but it is to die for!! Ahhh...my favorite cook is on the line...”Ali...good morning I will have the creamed beef please over some of those potatoes that look like they were part of the Irish potato famine of 1842....he replies...”crammed buuuf gone”......”No Ali....I dont want the beans or the fried tomatos...just the creamed beef please....”crammed buuf gone”......”ok...I will wait for more crammed...I mean creamed beef...ok”.......”sir...sir...crammed buuf gone gone!”......... OK....if I didnt know better Ali is trying to tell me I am not going to get “crammed buuf” this morning...instead I had the “lice with oge”....(rice and egg).... NOW...you know the reason why I get up extra early....I dont want the “lice with oge”....I want the “crammed buuf” dammit! It is a different day...I am actually the first person in the mess hall except for Ali....(I really need a life dont I)....I get my “crammed buuf”.....I get my eggs to order...I get my instant coffee laced generously with hot milk....I pour honey over everything and I sit down against the back wall facing the wrong way.....ahhhh....alone...quiet.....and a special treat for me.....on the wall in front of me is a large flat screen tv...it is on......and for some reason it is on the lingerie channel....”bad Ali”.....you see...we dont get this channel in our room...it only comes on in the mess hall....I think Ali bribed the IT guy with “lice and oge” for life and free donkey rides.... Now for the visual....hang with me...there is a young lady....attractive enough....got that eastern European high cheek bone thing going on... she is in Paris.....early morning....on a wet cobble stone street....wearing a corset, black net nylons and thigh high boots with 5 inch heels....are we tracking??...........and she has fallen...sorta like what a skate boarder looks like after not clearing the handrail at the local park....she is sprawled across the wet pavement....and does not seem to be in hurry to get up...and nobody is helping her.................GOOOD!! So I'm taking this all in...sippin my coffee...eating my buuf..........and down sit my Afrikaners on either side of me...Hinee (the big ugly one...oh wait..they're all big and ugly)...grabs the remote a switches the channel to the International Channel for Cricket Tournaments..............immediately two things happen... First Thing...I begin to choke on my crammed buuf.... Second Thing...I reach for my Glock 19 semi-automatic pistol located in my Model 6000 Safariland thigh drop holster (I think a totally natural and justifiable reaction).......it shoots the famous 9x19 mm caliber and holds 15 rounds in the magazine...except I can only get 14 in the mag...so I carry the extra bullet in my shirt pocket and shine it when I get bored...(Barney was my hero).. Lucky for Hinee...I had left my Glock in the room since I didnt think I was going to need a sidearm at breakfast!!......I was wrong in this case...I am now in a daze....you know...like after a cow kicks you when your milking her...we've all been there... havent we?? I get my gear....attend the briefing...words were said...but I was more like the teacher on the Charlie Brown cartoons....whaaaa...whaaaa....whaaa.......I get in the truck....this morning was one of the few times I hoped we would find trouble...I needed to shoot something!! Charlie Brown....signing off NEXT MONDAY: "Broken"

Can I Sell you sumteeng meeester??

Well, It's Monday & you know what that means,,, Below is the latest installment of Humor from Afghanistan from The Better Half... Take it away Jack!

The only rude Afghan I have ever met was one of their government ministers....I believe this guy was the Minister of Something Important...I'm sure he is knee deep in the goat swapping trade, this Head Goat Herder is extremely rude..arrogant..and way to impressed with his own inflated importance.....with that said...all other Afghans I've met are extremely polite, soft-spoken, courteous, generous... and they trying to make a buck like the rest of us..

These entrepreneurs come to the embassy wanting to see whoever can get them a contract for whatever they are selling...from whidgets to wheelbarrows...and they come in their finest threads......this is where it gets interesting...

you see...the Afghans seem to be stuck in a fashion time warp....somewhere between “Grease” and “Saturday Night Fever”....my favorite are the mens' suits....it seems that shiny is in.....now I'm not talking satin shiny...I'm talking Reynolds Wrap or Airstream shiny...literally...the sun reflects light off these suits...and the color doesnt seem to be an issue....grey..blue..brown...pink....yes pink!!

The best part is by far the sweater vest which they must possess to complete the ensemble......I have come to the conclusion that the color...pattern or material is secondary to just having a vest....my favorite has been a dark pin strip shiny suit...black and white polka dotted tie with a white plaid sweater vest....it was a feast for the eyes...two things could have happened...I could let him in ...or...I could have played checkers on his chest...

IMPORTANT NOTE: There is a place close to our compound where a local tailor can also make me a special shiny suit....and understand..only the finest synthetic materials not found in nature are to be used....and the turn around time is only 24 hours.......so I'm thinking........thinking GREEN...no...not the green found on a tree leaf...oh noooo.....more like the green found on a 1978 Lincoln Mark V....oh yeah baby...now that's pimpin!!.......now for the shoes....I'm thinking Yak...

From the front...signing off...

Next Monday: Crammmed Buuuf

Don't touch that Valve!!!!!!

I've decided to make Monday

My Military Monday, on my Blog

So every Monday I will run a Blog from my Better Half. . .

Yes, I'm aware he's not in the Military anymore, but he is still serving his country, In a Civilian capacity, & I am so very proud of him. .

The words he shares of his time in Afghanistan reflect his views alone & do not reflect his current employer...

Toady's Story: Don't touch that Valve....

OK...”when in Rome”...we have all heard that expression..It's my first day and I want to fit in....another cog in the big wheel...yep, that's me...

So I walk into our outdoor bathroom (KOA Style)....for the very first time...and as always there were two or three Ghurkas at the sinks...a few more in the show area washing their feet...don't ask....and a couple more “taking care of business”....are we tracking so far??....good!

The first three stall are Eastern style....just a ceramic hole in the shape of a cow's head....oh...and two foot grip areas on each side of the hole...sorta self-explanatory I think...initially I would avoid these toilets and always proceed to the western style commodes....however, I have found that by using the Eastern style toilet for #1..is an excellent way of getting some target practice in...so now I actually look forward to those forays...

I am not sure how anybody does the #2 with this model.......for starters...I would require hand grips on the wall and a rear-view mirror....no thanks

After passing the first stalls you then come upon the normal toilets....well...I thought they were normal...I am now “taking care of business”...so far so good...my little stall is quite cozy....just savoring the moment...la la la....oh look...a valve...what does this......

Before finishing my sentence...out of curiosity...I had rotated the valve located next to me...and three things immediately happened......First...a burst of ice cold water from under the toilet seat makes a direct hit upon a part of my anatomy which was not expecting this.....

Second...As Einstein so eloquently stated “for every action there is an equal reaction”....my reaction was to instinctively leap to my feet...at a very high rate of speed...this speed was so high...that I actually saw my reflection in the mirror above the sink...over the stall door...which is over six feet high...........I'm 5'10”...I believe that I might have qualified for the new sport of commode jumping in the upcoming Olympics....

Third...Something verbal passed my lips...nothing human mind you...more like something from a wounded animal....or Daffy Duck...take your pick...

My Ghurkas had never seen this new game from America and after much clapping..they asked me to perform it one more time for the benefit of the men washing their feet...it seems they did not have a clear view of my misfortune as did the men at the sinks...

I then explain to them that this custom was hopefully only performed once in one's life...and that they had witnessed something very special that day...So as I backed out of the bathroom....with a wet spot running from the small of my back to my ankles..I bid farewell to my admirers and promised myself that I would never touch the valve again!!

signing off....Commode Boy...

Next Monday: Can I Sell you sumteeng meeester??

If you enjoy writing this, Please leave a comment, Jack would love to hear from you!

We don't need no stinking badges....Humor from Afghanistan

The Following Blog is from my Guest Blogger:

My Husband, His humor from Afghanistan I feel is just to funny not to Share ,,,

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..So there we were...all of us “newbees” getting our official Local Badges. This badge shows everybody that I am licensed, authorized and dangerous to carry firearms that I have been adequately trained to operate and shoot....of course the key word “adequately” was a bit of a downer...instead of just Glock 19 and M4 Assault Rifle...I thought it would be nice to have something like BAZOOKA or VIKING BATTLE AXE on my badge..no such luck......there doesn't seem to be enough space on the badge for extra stuff...oh darn

The five of us are at the Embassy and a very busy lady is trying to get us through the process as quickly as possible...(I think it was time for lunch)....of course this badge will have our photo place upon it for proper identification at all times.....as each person stepped in front of the sheet to get his picture taken...I remember my Wife telling me about my “MEAN LOOK”....she claims it is pretty convincing...of course I have never seen this look since I'm usually not close to a mirror during the display of the “MEAN LOOK”.....now I am in unchartered territory...because I need that look on the badge...I must have it!

Before you can whistle Dixie...(Can't whistle so not sure how long that would take...stop laughing!)...it is now my turn for the photo shoot... I imagine what my “MEAN LOOK” must be and the busy lady begins to count...one two click and I blink!!......

The busy lady disappears for a short time and then comes back out with all the photos for us to proof...I thought I had heard some giggling behind the door but then maybe it was my imagination.....then I saw my picture....of course my eyes are closed and instead of a grimace...it was more like a twisted Joker from Batman smile....no kidding...I looked like an Elmer Fudd Look-A-Like Cartoon Character...all I needed was a special bus...geesh!

She says..”oh sir..we must retake this....this will not do...this is unacceptable...this is.....” ALRIGHT ALREADY!!...I get the hint...

Now I am really concentrating to keep my eyes open because it really is time for chow....Click...

“oh sir...much better”.......I take the badge and off to chow we go....I get my meat from a Newt Hindquarter and commence to eat.....”hey Elmer let me see your pic”...I proudly show my badge...he then commences to cough up a lung and passes around my badge to the other insensitive louts...you see...I just took the badge never really gave it a close look...sigh...imagine Curly Joe from the Three Stooges eating a hot tomale....or Grandpa from the Munsters getting his over 50 exam...now you have some idea of my facial expression in the photo...as if that isn't bad enough.....on the badge they filled the entire space with my head....the light is coming from behind so my head actually looks like an eclipse of...oh I don't know...Mars maybe!!.....I honestly believe I could cause young children to pee on themselves with this photo....or cure the hiccups...yikes!

To say I looked deranged would be extremely flattering.......but lets look at the bright side...I probably will never have to fire my weapon in anger...instead...I'll just show my badge....that should do the trick!!

Signing off for now....Badgeman

Stay Tuned: Next Blog: "Don't touch that Valve"