Seriously, that's the only explanation.
If you haven't gathered by now, I enjoy my vices. A lot. Smoking, drinking, late nights, little sleep, and endless coffee. I'm sure it'll all catch up to me one day, spear-tackling me into my grave (and probably spilling my Manhattan in the process), but for now, the perks of my wicked ways outweigh the looming consequences.
In the meantime, I can keep living large while still waking up at 0530 every morning, running five miles, and then working another ten hours. It's good to be young and bulletproof.
...
Some douche in a GTO tried to get me to race him on post today. I ignored him, because I've seen that movie before, and it ends with me getting my balls smoked off and the other guy getting a horrible speeding/reckless driving ticket.
Besides that, GTOs are slow, so what's the point?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Cheetohs and Beer?
My life seems to be a Shakespearean drama lately. Seriously, what the fuck.
Well... at least I have these wonderful all natural Cheetohs to keep me company. I feel like a fat girl.
Sorry. I can't really disclose the details of my incredibly complicated life right now, for a variety of reasons. Sigh.
Well... at least I have these wonderful all natural Cheetohs to keep me company. I feel like a fat girl.
Sorry. I can't really disclose the details of my incredibly complicated life right now, for a variety of reasons. Sigh.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Jack's State of the Union
Hey guys! Shit's fucked up! So we're going to take more of your money and redistribute it to an ever-growing legion of shitbag federal employees who will make sure you get absolutely no return on your involuntary investment. Haha, fuck you all!
Just kidding. Seriously, though, we're all fucked.
Just kidding. Seriously, though, we're all fucked.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Only In Fayetteville...
... could last night have played out like it did.
I can't say much due to potentially impending legal action (not against me, fortunately), but let's just say that any reasonably sane and marginally intelligent human would stay away from those pits of despair and misery known as gentleman's clubs. However, some of us (myself included) lack those traits, so we go anyway. Last night is the result of such actions.
I can say that there was a very, very attractive girl working last night that wanted me to come home with her, and I was not at all opposed to the idea. Sadly those plans got placed on hold when the aforementioned clusterfuck happened (homeboy got a free ride in the backseat of a cruiser... with my car and house keys in his pocket). Sigh.
Probably the most tragic result of last night is that my clothes and favorite jacket now smell strongly of stripper. It's quite pungent. Off to the laundry, then.
That was enough entertainment for one weekend... deuces
I can't say much due to potentially impending legal action (not against me, fortunately), but let's just say that any reasonably sane and marginally intelligent human would stay away from those pits of despair and misery known as gentleman's clubs. However, some of us (myself included) lack those traits, so we go anyway. Last night is the result of such actions.
I can say that there was a very, very attractive girl working last night that wanted me to come home with her, and I was not at all opposed to the idea. Sadly those plans got placed on hold when the aforementioned clusterfuck happened (homeboy got a free ride in the backseat of a cruiser... with my car and house keys in his pocket). Sigh.
Probably the most tragic result of last night is that my clothes and favorite jacket now smell strongly of stripper. It's quite pungent. Off to the laundry, then.
That was enough entertainment for one weekend... deuces
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Feeling Uninspired.
Maybe it was all the bullshit I put up with this week, or the lack of sleep, or this incredibly depressing weather, but I just don't feel any creativity right now. Maybe a few drinks will inspire me to write later tonight or tomorrow.
Until that time... stay classy
Until that time... stay classy
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
How to Not be a Giant Douchebag on the Road
After my drive today, I realized one thing:
All of you fucking people suck at driving. Seriously.
So, despite the irony of me offering advice on how to NOT be a complete prick, I'm willing to offer up a few free lessons on a subject I am truly an expert on - highway driving etiquette. Welcome to the introductory level course.
The biggest thing is to not start a Mexican roadblock in the passing lane. If you are in the left lane, and several cars are riding your ass or vehicles are passing you, you are fucking wrong. Solution: while gripping the steering wheel, extend your left middle finger until it finds the turn signal switch. Raise said finger 1/2" or until the switch locks, causing your blinker (yes, you have those on your car, I swear) to indicate a right lane change. After checking to make sure you aren't going to run anyone off the road (actually look over your shoulder, you lazy piece of shit), move your car smoothly into the right lane. And stay there. BAM. You have just completed the hardest test of highway driving 101. I now grant you permission to continue breathing, which requires slightly more effort than the maneuver described above.
The next thing is somewhat advanced... if your IQ is equal to your shoe size. It's known as passing. So, let's say you're in moderate traffic, with drivers moving at speeds varying from 68-80 MPH - very realistic for a highway with a 70 MPH speed limit.
So you're doing 72, and you think, "Oh, I'm going above the speed limit. I can chill in the passing lane!" WRONG BITCH. While you're doing 72 on the way back from your grandkids house to cash your social security check, the rest of us with jobs actually have places to be. Like Yours Truly, who has to drive ten fucking hours each way just to get a break from work, and has to get back before he's reported AWOL. So. Traffic's moving, you've got your cruise control set at 72, and come upon a truck going 71. This truck has other vehicles in front of him. You get into the left lane to pass. At this rate, it will take you several minutes to overtake the two to three vehicles in front of you... in the meantime, those of us with said jobs and/or radar detectors (they're cheap and effective!) are stacked up behind you, wondering whether we need to call 911 and report that the dipshit in front of us is having an aneurism behind the wheel. Lesson here: if you are passing someone at 1-2 MPH above their speed, and even 1 or 2 cars stack up behind you, it's time to hop on the accelerator (it's the pedal on your right), gain a little speed, pass, and get back into the right lane - all before the rest of us die of old age. At this point, you may go back to your highly risky and/or scandalous 2 MPH over.
Another thing. I always hear people, who are inevitably pussies, ask why anyone would need to go faster than the limit - "after all, that is the speed LIMIT." Yeah, well speed limits, like all laws, are designed to compensate for the lowest common denominator in society; that being you. Speed limits are in fact a realistic minimum. So jog off.
Oh, and you don't have to slow down to 10 MPH under the limit every time you see a cop on the side of the road. I promise, they don't give out extra points for brown-nosing. And half the time, they don't even have their radar on; they're just sitting there because they know all the idiot sheep will slam on the brakes at the mere sight of them.
Hope you got something out of that class. Night.
All of you fucking people suck at driving. Seriously.
So, despite the irony of me offering advice on how to NOT be a complete prick, I'm willing to offer up a few free lessons on a subject I am truly an expert on - highway driving etiquette. Welcome to the introductory level course.
The biggest thing is to not start a Mexican roadblock in the passing lane. If you are in the left lane, and several cars are riding your ass or vehicles are passing you, you are fucking wrong. Solution: while gripping the steering wheel, extend your left middle finger until it finds the turn signal switch. Raise said finger 1/2" or until the switch locks, causing your blinker (yes, you have those on your car, I swear) to indicate a right lane change. After checking to make sure you aren't going to run anyone off the road (actually look over your shoulder, you lazy piece of shit), move your car smoothly into the right lane. And stay there. BAM. You have just completed the hardest test of highway driving 101. I now grant you permission to continue breathing, which requires slightly more effort than the maneuver described above.
The next thing is somewhat advanced... if your IQ is equal to your shoe size. It's known as passing. So, let's say you're in moderate traffic, with drivers moving at speeds varying from 68-80 MPH - very realistic for a highway with a 70 MPH speed limit.
So you're doing 72, and you think, "Oh, I'm going above the speed limit. I can chill in the passing lane!" WRONG BITCH. While you're doing 72 on the way back from your grandkids house to cash your social security check, the rest of us with jobs actually have places to be. Like Yours Truly, who has to drive ten fucking hours each way just to get a break from work, and has to get back before he's reported AWOL. So. Traffic's moving, you've got your cruise control set at 72, and come upon a truck going 71. This truck has other vehicles in front of him. You get into the left lane to pass. At this rate, it will take you several minutes to overtake the two to three vehicles in front of you... in the meantime, those of us with said jobs and/or radar detectors (they're cheap and effective!) are stacked up behind you, wondering whether we need to call 911 and report that the dipshit in front of us is having an aneurism behind the wheel. Lesson here: if you are passing someone at 1-2 MPH above their speed, and even 1 or 2 cars stack up behind you, it's time to hop on the accelerator (it's the pedal on your right), gain a little speed, pass, and get back into the right lane - all before the rest of us die of old age. At this point, you may go back to your highly risky and/or scandalous 2 MPH over.
Another thing. I always hear people, who are inevitably pussies, ask why anyone would need to go faster than the limit - "after all, that is the speed LIMIT." Yeah, well speed limits, like all laws, are designed to compensate for the lowest common denominator in society; that being you. Speed limits are in fact a realistic minimum. So jog off.
Oh, and you don't have to slow down to 10 MPH under the limit every time you see a cop on the side of the road. I promise, they don't give out extra points for brown-nosing. And half the time, they don't even have their radar on; they're just sitting there because they know all the idiot sheep will slam on the brakes at the mere sight of them.
Hope you got something out of that class. Night.
Monday, January 16, 2012
My Life Is A Country Song, And Other Lies
So I'm sitting here at my house in New York, drinking my fourth(?) glass of this delicious Pure Kentucky single barrel bourbon, contemplating the shit drive I have to make tomorrow so I can go back to work. Not excited, but whatever.
The drive is nine-ish hours of I-95, Jersey Turnpike, and GSP. It sucks, but it's worth it, and it also gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts for awhile. I'm down - between work and social life, I rarely get more than a few minutes to myself at a time. Of course, exploring my brain for hours at a time can be a very scary activity, but it is at least interesting. During the drive up, I came to the conclusion that one could write an excellent country song (or album) about my life. Check it out:
Work long hours at a shitty job for shit pay? Check, check, and check.
Drive a long-ass way to see loved ones? Yup.
Drink to an extent that would literally kill most people? Most days.
American country boy? You'd better fuckin' believe it.
Is generally an asshole? For the most part, yes.
Run and/or drink moonshine? No comment.
etc.
I ran out of brain power there. I swear I had a whole long list, but anyway you get the idea. I haven't determined whether it's profoundly depressing or somewhat inspiring that I can relate to so many country songs on such a personal level.
The cold weather today (~20-25 degrees F) meant that my tires were basically frozen all day, meaning I can do on-demand first and sometimes second gear burnouts just by hammering the throttle. Nothing quite like it. That car makes me so irresponsible.
Well, I'd better get some sleep... long drive tomorrow.
The drive is nine-ish hours of I-95, Jersey Turnpike, and GSP. It sucks, but it's worth it, and it also gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts for awhile. I'm down - between work and social life, I rarely get more than a few minutes to myself at a time. Of course, exploring my brain for hours at a time can be a very scary activity, but it is at least interesting. During the drive up, I came to the conclusion that one could write an excellent country song (or album) about my life. Check it out:
Work long hours at a shitty job for shit pay? Check, check, and check.
Drive a long-ass way to see loved ones? Yup.
Drink to an extent that would literally kill most people? Most days.
American country boy? You'd better fuckin' believe it.
Is generally an asshole? For the most part, yes.
Run and/or drink moonshine? No comment.
etc.
I ran out of brain power there. I swear I had a whole long list, but anyway you get the idea. I haven't determined whether it's profoundly depressing or somewhat inspiring that I can relate to so many country songs on such a personal level.
The cold weather today (~20-25 degrees F) meant that my tires were basically frozen all day, meaning I can do on-demand first and sometimes second gear burnouts just by hammering the throttle. Nothing quite like it. That car makes me so irresponsible.
Well, I'd better get some sleep... long drive tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Back to NY Tomorrow
So this morning around 1000 I put in my pass to drive up to NY for our upcoming four day weekend. None of us were expecting it to get approved, for a variety of undisclosed reasons (OPSEC, bitches). Lo and behold, it comes back to me five hours later with the CO's signature on it! Fuck yeah.
As soon as we get off work I'm bailing out this bitch. Already packed up and everything, just need to grab my bags and roll. That is, of course, assuming I can get my car back tomorrow morning.
Anyway, looking forward to a very worthwhile ten hour drive up the Eastern seaboard to chill out for a few days!
As soon as we get off work I'm bailing out this bitch. Already packed up and everything, just need to grab my bags and roll. That is, of course, assuming I can get my car back tomorrow morning.
Anyway, looking forward to a very worthwhile ten hour drive up the Eastern seaboard to chill out for a few days!
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Boring Details of My Life, and Thoughts On Politics
This weekend was just what I needed after that intense week. I drank a fair amount, slept in til noon every day, and was generally worthless. Some excellent shitbagging.
I was pleasantly surprised to watch my Broncos beat Shitsburgh in OT yesterday. Now on to New England... won't say what my predictions are for that game, but they aren't good. We shall see.
I went down to the local Chevy stealership today to schedule my 30k service on the 'vette. Fuckers want $450, but it needs to be done, so she's going in Wednesday morning. Seeing as I'm probably going to keep that car for awhile, I figure it's worth it to keep her running like a Swiss watch. Much like a high-end watch, it does need regular and expensive servicing but will run nearly forever if properly maintained. Speaking of which, I need to send my Blancpain in. Is it odd that service on my watch is more expensive than the 30k on my car? It's the price of having nice things, I guess. First world problems for certain.
I'm getting everything ready (namely my finances) to start some moderate modifications to my car. First up is an off-the-shelf tuner from Diablosport, which should net me 30-40hp with my current intake and exhaust. After that will be a set of Borla XR-1 long tube headers and X-pipe which, combined with good tuning, should get me to a little over 500hp at the flywheel, so maybe 475-ish at the wheels. It's going to be a bit loud due to removing all the catalytic converters (not at all street legal, but she's emissions exempt so it's all good), but the wonderful sounds emanating from my car will make girls moist for miles around. Which is, obviously, the desired end result here. What, you thought it was just a hobby?
Tomorrow marks one year in the Army. It's certainly been the most interesting year of my life thus far, though not the most enjoyable by any stretch of the imagination. I don't really know how I feel about it. It is somewhat calming to know that I'm roughly 25% of the way done with my contractual obligation to Uncle Sam. The civilian world seems like a lifetime ago, yet the past year has flown by faster than any preceding it. Sometimes there are moments where I look around and think "How the FUCK did I get here?", but there are days when I wouldn't trade this life for anything (okay, anything except piles of money). Anyway.
I was considering not writing about this, but I can't let it go. Disclaimer: I'm neither a Republican or a Democrat, and despise both parties equally for various reasons.
I'm convinced the Republican National Committee is led either by halfwits or by Democrats (not mutually exclusive, but I digress). What other explanation could there be for the quality of candidates they're presenting to challenge O's reelection bid?
-Mitt Romney, who will inevitably win the nomination, is a borderline socialist and truly a Republican In Name Only (RINO). On top of that he's heavily anti-gun, which is a HUGE no-no for an R candidate and will turn lots of people (like myself) away. In addition, and I hate to badmouth someone's faith since I like to at least pretend I'm a tolerant person, but have any of you actually taken the time to research what the Mormons believe? [this section redacted, it was too offensive even for me] Let's just say this: if the Bible is a work of creative nonfiction, the Book of Mormon is Alice in Wonderland. On mushrooms.
-Michelle Bachmann, who is mercifully out of the race, makes Sarah Palin look brilliant by comparison. The fact that she was taken even remotely seriously by the RNC is a fucking slap in the face to everyone, everywhere.
-Rick Perry, same, but not nearly to the same extent. He at least has a Texan's charisma. Again, overplaying the faith card.
-Rick Santorum. Motherfucker just looks like he wants to molest you, me, and maybe a farm animal or two. Seriously, he gives me the creeps. Not exactly a scientific analysis, I know, but I'm just being honest here. Plus I fucking HATE government interference in my personal life (aren't conservatives supposed to be for small government?), and his voting record shows an alarming trend of faith-based government regulation on our personal lives. Hell with that, I should be able to sin if I so please, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. This is America.
Man, I need a cigarette after that... I got angry for a second. Time for a smoke followed by a night of Sons of Anarchy on Netflix.
Adios
I was pleasantly surprised to watch my Broncos beat Shitsburgh in OT yesterday. Now on to New England... won't say what my predictions are for that game, but they aren't good. We shall see.
I went down to the local Chevy stealership today to schedule my 30k service on the 'vette. Fuckers want $450, but it needs to be done, so she's going in Wednesday morning. Seeing as I'm probably going to keep that car for awhile, I figure it's worth it to keep her running like a Swiss watch. Much like a high-end watch, it does need regular and expensive servicing but will run nearly forever if properly maintained. Speaking of which, I need to send my Blancpain in. Is it odd that service on my watch is more expensive than the 30k on my car? It's the price of having nice things, I guess. First world problems for certain.
I'm getting everything ready (namely my finances) to start some moderate modifications to my car. First up is an off-the-shelf tuner from Diablosport, which should net me 30-40hp with my current intake and exhaust. After that will be a set of Borla XR-1 long tube headers and X-pipe which, combined with good tuning, should get me to a little over 500hp at the flywheel, so maybe 475-ish at the wheels. It's going to be a bit loud due to removing all the catalytic converters (not at all street legal, but she's emissions exempt so it's all good), but the wonderful sounds emanating from my car will make girls moist for miles around. Which is, obviously, the desired end result here. What, you thought it was just a hobby?
Tomorrow marks one year in the Army. It's certainly been the most interesting year of my life thus far, though not the most enjoyable by any stretch of the imagination. I don't really know how I feel about it. It is somewhat calming to know that I'm roughly 25% of the way done with my contractual obligation to Uncle Sam. The civilian world seems like a lifetime ago, yet the past year has flown by faster than any preceding it. Sometimes there are moments where I look around and think "How the FUCK did I get here?", but there are days when I wouldn't trade this life for anything (okay, anything except piles of money). Anyway.
I was considering not writing about this, but I can't let it go. Disclaimer: I'm neither a Republican or a Democrat, and despise both parties equally for various reasons.
I'm convinced the Republican National Committee is led either by halfwits or by Democrats (not mutually exclusive, but I digress). What other explanation could there be for the quality of candidates they're presenting to challenge O's reelection bid?
-Mitt Romney, who will inevitably win the nomination, is a borderline socialist and truly a Republican In Name Only (RINO). On top of that he's heavily anti-gun, which is a HUGE no-no for an R candidate and will turn lots of people (like myself) away. In addition, and I hate to badmouth someone's faith since I like to at least pretend I'm a tolerant person, but have any of you actually taken the time to research what the Mormons believe? [this section redacted, it was too offensive even for me] Let's just say this: if the Bible is a work of creative nonfiction, the Book of Mormon is Alice in Wonderland. On mushrooms.
-Michelle Bachmann, who is mercifully out of the race, makes Sarah Palin look brilliant by comparison. The fact that she was taken even remotely seriously by the RNC is a fucking slap in the face to everyone, everywhere.
-Rick Perry, same, but not nearly to the same extent. He at least has a Texan's charisma. Again, overplaying the faith card.
-Rick Santorum. Motherfucker just looks like he wants to molest you, me, and maybe a farm animal or two. Seriously, he gives me the creeps. Not exactly a scientific analysis, I know, but I'm just being honest here. Plus I fucking HATE government interference in my personal life (aren't conservatives supposed to be for small government?), and his voting record shows an alarming trend of faith-based government regulation on our personal lives. Hell with that, I should be able to sin if I so please, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. This is America.
Man, I need a cigarette after that... I got angry for a second. Time for a smoke followed by a night of Sons of Anarchy on Netflix.
Adios
Saturday, January 7, 2012
"Don't Smoke Bowls in the XO's Office"
...direct quote from this afternoon's three-day-weekend safety brief. Words to live by...? Kinda seems like a no-brainer to me.
Anyway, my crazy week of range time is over at long last. Some notes:
- I could really use some more range time and competent instruction. I'm pretty damn decent, but I could be a lot better and a lot faster.
- I absolutely loathe being told how to shoot by people who know less than me. Seriously, check the group size before you open your mouth about my technique. When I'm printing 1" controlled pairs, quickly, center mass at 25m, I think my recoil control is just fine, thank you.
- Sprinting 50m back and forth on a lane (in full kit) during a stress shoot while you wait for the guy in front of you to correct his never ending weapon malfunctions fucking sucks. Now with Iron Mikes mixed in, for added fun! My quads feel like they may explode at any time.
- A semi-broken M4 will still run as long as you oil the shit out of the bolt and bolt carrier. Yes, my weapon finally broke... think I jinxed it with that last post. My bolt carrier is falling apart and some of the replaceable parts are well past their service life. I'm quite sure it'll never actually get fixed.
- My body has learned to hydrate itself when I feed it cheap beer. Honestly, I can drink PBR/BL/KL and wake up more hydrated than I was the day before. Real beer (IPAs, stouts, etc), however, still require a chaser of water if I expect to be able to run without dry heaving the entire time.
That's about it for that. What else...
Did a little racing with a buddy in his moderately modded SRT-4 earlier tonight. We did several from a roll (35, 45, 50) and he was remarkably able to keep pace up to about 60 mph, at which point he'd have to shift while I still had 15 mph left in second gear. We knew the outcome before we began, but it was fun nonetheless and I was rather impressed with that thing's quickness.
Note to self: turn off traction control when attempting a 4k clutch drop launch. Amateur hour. Still won that one, though.
Jokingly raced two pretty attractive strippers in a red '08 convertible. I gave her half a length on the roll and maintained that until we backed off... not bad, considering the LS3 is rated to have 30ish more HP than my LS2 does. Hooray for bolt-ons. For the curious, how I know they were strippers: Nate and I were rolling with these girls, then I pulled off at a gas station while she went on her way. When we got back in the car, I voiced my opinion that they were quite obviously strippers just due to the car, the attitude, the neighborhood and the fact that it was 0100. Sure as hell, we get like 1/4 mile down the road, and low and behold said red 'Vette parked right next to the front door at [redacted] gentleman's club. Go me.
Well, it's long past my bedtime. I'm going to sleep until like noon tomorrow (today?) and attempt to wash and detail Vanessa - god knows she needs some TLC, the poor thing. Maybe another coat of wax is in order if I'm feeling especially motivated.
'Night
Anyway, my crazy week of range time is over at long last. Some notes:
- I could really use some more range time and competent instruction. I'm pretty damn decent, but I could be a lot better and a lot faster.
- I absolutely loathe being told how to shoot by people who know less than me. Seriously, check the group size before you open your mouth about my technique. When I'm printing 1" controlled pairs, quickly, center mass at 25m, I think my recoil control is just fine, thank you.
- Sprinting 50m back and forth on a lane (in full kit) during a stress shoot while you wait for the guy in front of you to correct his never ending weapon malfunctions fucking sucks. Now with Iron Mikes mixed in, for added fun! My quads feel like they may explode at any time.
- A semi-broken M4 will still run as long as you oil the shit out of the bolt and bolt carrier. Yes, my weapon finally broke... think I jinxed it with that last post. My bolt carrier is falling apart and some of the replaceable parts are well past their service life. I'm quite sure it'll never actually get fixed.
- My body has learned to hydrate itself when I feed it cheap beer. Honestly, I can drink PBR/BL/KL and wake up more hydrated than I was the day before. Real beer (IPAs, stouts, etc), however, still require a chaser of water if I expect to be able to run without dry heaving the entire time.
That's about it for that. What else...
Did a little racing with a buddy in his moderately modded SRT-4 earlier tonight. We did several from a roll (35, 45, 50) and he was remarkably able to keep pace up to about 60 mph, at which point he'd have to shift while I still had 15 mph left in second gear. We knew the outcome before we began, but it was fun nonetheless and I was rather impressed with that thing's quickness.
Note to self: turn off traction control when attempting a 4k clutch drop launch. Amateur hour. Still won that one, though.
Jokingly raced two pretty attractive strippers in a red '08 convertible. I gave her half a length on the roll and maintained that until we backed off... not bad, considering the LS3 is rated to have 30ish more HP than my LS2 does. Hooray for bolt-ons. For the curious, how I know they were strippers: Nate and I were rolling with these girls, then I pulled off at a gas station while she went on her way. When we got back in the car, I voiced my opinion that they were quite obviously strippers just due to the car, the attitude, the neighborhood and the fact that it was 0100. Sure as hell, we get like 1/4 mile down the road, and low and behold said red 'Vette parked right next to the front door at [redacted] gentleman's club. Go me.
Well, it's long past my bedtime. I'm going to sleep until like noon tomorrow (today?) and attempt to wash and detail Vanessa - god knows she needs some TLC, the poor thing. Maybe another coat of wax is in order if I'm feeling especially motivated.
'Night
Thursday, January 5, 2012
My Face Hurts
Seriously. My face really fucking hurts. Another full day in the wind, no bueno... probably doesn't help that I passed out for like an hour facing the sun for warmth. I look pretty ridiculous right now.
Didn't do shit today except qualify with my carbine - another score of 39/40, continuing my trend since basic. Sigh. One day the planets will align, range control will actually mow the goddamn waist-high grass downrange, the computer scoring system will work correctly, and I'll shoot a 40.
We did another night shoot through NODs (night vision) with our infrared laser sights (only visible through said NODs), which would have been fun except for the general icy numbness of my various extremities, including my brain. As per usual, my trusty M4 came through for me and I was dropping targets like it was my job (ha ha), which brings me to an interesting point:
I love my M4. There, I said it. I love the shit out of that thing. See, in various circles, notably those populated by wannabe tacticool blowhard fuckfaces, the M4 gets a ton of hate. This is not entirely without reason, since it is a bit outdated and slightly underpowered, but it is still a hell of a weapon. Both of the M4s I've been issued have been well worn, shot endlessly, and looked like something you might pay 300 bucks for at some back-alley pawn shop. The trigger is inevitably shit, the upper and lower receiver are looser than gorilla pussy, and it's kind of a bitch to clean. But despite all that, both of mine have been absolutely unfailingly reliable and murderously accurate. My current one is often mistreated: dumped in the sand, dropped on hard surfaces, given an "I-really-don't-fucking-care-right-now" cleaning after a long day at the range, et cetera - but put a few drops of CLP on the bolt carrier and feed it with PMags and green tip, and that bitch will run all day without a hiccup and kill everything it's pointed at. What more could a man ask for?
That's supposed to be a rhetorical question, smartasses. I KNOW, the answer is free beer. Obviously.
Speaking of beer, as I write this I'm finishing a glass of Great Divide's Titan IPA, and it's heartbreaking because that was my last one. Next up is a pirate's favorite beer... P B Arrrrggggghhh (Pabst Blue Ribbon, for the unenlightened). $5.95 (no tax) for a 12 pack at the PX! Suck it civilians - and stock up while you can, paratroopers! I don't think I've paid under 50 cents apiece for any drinkable beer since high school... that's assuming Key Light is, in fact, beer. I have my doubts.
On a completely random note, did you know that on the list of ingredients for Goldfish, it starts out with "MADE WITH SMILES AND..." What the hell? I don't want your smiles in my food, guy. Go smile-rape someone else. Creeper.
'night
Didn't do shit today except qualify with my carbine - another score of 39/40, continuing my trend since basic. Sigh. One day the planets will align, range control will actually mow the goddamn waist-high grass downrange, the computer scoring system will work correctly, and I'll shoot a 40.
We did another night shoot through NODs (night vision) with our infrared laser sights (only visible through said NODs), which would have been fun except for the general icy numbness of my various extremities, including my brain. As per usual, my trusty M4 came through for me and I was dropping targets like it was my job (ha ha), which brings me to an interesting point:
I love my M4. There, I said it. I love the shit out of that thing. See, in various circles, notably those populated by wannabe tacticool blowhard fuckfaces, the M4 gets a ton of hate. This is not entirely without reason, since it is a bit outdated and slightly underpowered, but it is still a hell of a weapon. Both of the M4s I've been issued have been well worn, shot endlessly, and looked like something you might pay 300 bucks for at some back-alley pawn shop. The trigger is inevitably shit, the upper and lower receiver are looser than gorilla pussy, and it's kind of a bitch to clean. But despite all that, both of mine have been absolutely unfailingly reliable and murderously accurate. My current one is often mistreated: dumped in the sand, dropped on hard surfaces, given an "I-really-don't-fucking-care-right-now" cleaning after a long day at the range, et cetera - but put a few drops of CLP on the bolt carrier and feed it with PMags and green tip, and that bitch will run all day without a hiccup and kill everything it's pointed at. What more could a man ask for?
That's supposed to be a rhetorical question, smartasses. I KNOW, the answer is free beer. Obviously.
Speaking of beer, as I write this I'm finishing a glass of Great Divide's Titan IPA, and it's heartbreaking because that was my last one. Next up is a pirate's favorite beer... P B Arrrrggggghhh (Pabst Blue Ribbon, for the unenlightened). $5.95 (no tax) for a 12 pack at the PX! Suck it civilians - and stock up while you can, paratroopers! I don't think I've paid under 50 cents apiece for any drinkable beer since high school... that's assuming Key Light is, in fact, beer. I have my doubts.
On a completely random note, did you know that on the list of ingredients for Goldfish, it starts out with "MADE WITH SMILES AND..." What the hell? I don't want your smiles in my food, guy. Go smile-rape someone else. Creeper.
'night
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Welcome Back, We Hate You
Well today sucked.
We spent twelve hours at two different ranges today, doing such badass, hardcore Infantry shit as zeroing our M4s (at 25m) and shooting from the prone at known distance targets. Twelve. Hours. That's a full half of a twenty-four hour day, in case you hadn't noticed. Basic Rifle Marksmanship, how fun you aren't.
Now mind you, I wouldn't normally be complaining (as much) about a range day - after all, trigger time is our raison d'etre, and shooting is almost always fun when someone else picks up the ammo bill. Today, however, was completely ruined by a cold front blowing humid, 30 degree air at approximately 25 knots all goddamn day. That, my friends, will suck the fundamental will to exist out of a person after a couple hours, especially when it keeps shifting directions so violently and frequently that you can't even take effective shelter behind a building. At some point, you just give into despair and curse whatever god happens to be punishing you. That was nearly as cold as I've ever been in my life... and I'm from Northern Colorado.
The sole light in the darkness of this day was that despite not having fired a single round since the last time I qualified (in September! I know, it's terrible, but it's not my fault they gave me a radio and said "make this shit work"), I completely dominated the known distance range. Unsupported prone at 200m, I put ten rounds into a group the size of a cantaloupe, perfectly center mass on the silhouette. At 300m, I still managed to keep all ten in the black - and all this in the aforementioned wind while trying to control my shivering into some predictable pattern. I was very, very pleasantly surprised how quickly I knocked the dust off. But that's about enough bragging for one post.
I should probably get some sleep. It's been a long, crazy, roller coaster ride over the past two weeks or so, but all good things must come to an end.
Goodnight weirdos
We spent twelve hours at two different ranges today, doing such badass, hardcore Infantry shit as zeroing our M4s (at 25m) and shooting from the prone at known distance targets. Twelve. Hours. That's a full half of a twenty-four hour day, in case you hadn't noticed. Basic Rifle Marksmanship, how fun you aren't.
Now mind you, I wouldn't normally be complaining (as much) about a range day - after all, trigger time is our raison d'etre, and shooting is almost always fun when someone else picks up the ammo bill. Today, however, was completely ruined by a cold front blowing humid, 30 degree air at approximately 25 knots all goddamn day. That, my friends, will suck the fundamental will to exist out of a person after a couple hours, especially when it keeps shifting directions so violently and frequently that you can't even take effective shelter behind a building. At some point, you just give into despair and curse whatever god happens to be punishing you. That was nearly as cold as I've ever been in my life... and I'm from Northern Colorado.
The sole light in the darkness of this day was that despite not having fired a single round since the last time I qualified (in September! I know, it's terrible, but it's not my fault they gave me a radio and said "make this shit work"), I completely dominated the known distance range. Unsupported prone at 200m, I put ten rounds into a group the size of a cantaloupe, perfectly center mass on the silhouette. At 300m, I still managed to keep all ten in the black - and all this in the aforementioned wind while trying to control my shivering into some predictable pattern. I was very, very pleasantly surprised how quickly I knocked the dust off. But that's about enough bragging for one post.
I should probably get some sleep. It's been a long, crazy, roller coaster ride over the past two weeks or so, but all good things must come to an end.
Goodnight weirdos
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