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Saturday, February 27, 2010
Drink your Cabbage. . . . Shelby!
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Monday, February 22, 2010
Cricket Anyone?
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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…
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..
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...
Friday, February 19, 2010
Round & Round we go, Where we'll end up nobody knows!
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- Where are going to stay?
- Where are we going to eat?
- What are we gonna do?
Monday, February 15, 2010
Esss Broken
Broken versus Unbroken…
Tsk…tsk…tsk….meeester….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….
onetwothreefourfivsixseveigtni
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 100th 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…..
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!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
To Fly or Not to Fly...That is the Question
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
After the Nap.... Zurich Teil Zwei
Starbucks or Zurich, Switzerland??
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Monday, February 8, 2010
Crammed Buuf Gone?
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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!
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... 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... 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.............. 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... Charlie Brown....signing off NEXT MONDAY: "Broken" |
Monday, February 1, 2010
Can I Sell you sumteeng meeester??
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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...
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