Why You Should Clean Out Your Fridge

You know that quart of milk you buy and forget about? You drink half of it, but it gets shoved into the back of your refrigerator behind the beer and your leftover Chinese take out (don't judge me, I'm a bachelor), and you look three weeks later and it's still there?

Yeah. This evening was that "three weeks later" part for me.

Instead of taking the sensible route by throwing the unopened container away in a dumpster (or the Jack route and chucking it out of a moving car, thereby creating a Milk Molotov), I decided I'd dump it down the sink and avoid having to put on pants. Ahh, laziness, sometimes you fuck me good.

Until you've experienced that particular smell, you can't quite imagine the sight of me coughing, gagging, and laughing hysterically at my own stupidity as chunks of spoiled milk slopped into the sink. Chunks. Of milk. I had to wash them down the drain with hot water. I'm not going to be able to drink milk for awhile after that... seriously traumatized.

Anyway. That's my PSA for the day, I guess. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

So Dental Work Sucks

I have a wicked kind of headache from getting a filling today... feels like someone drilled into my skull and then did a bunch of welding. Weird.

Still better than being at work, though.

I Have Issues

I think I'm getting full-blown addicted to fly fishing again, except more so than I used to be. This is dangerous territory.

I've already reconned and planned out a likely trip for this three-day weekend; back up to SMNP but on the North Carolina side. The weather forecast is decent, the water looks great (and there's a damn lot of it), I've found a suitable fly shop nearby, and I'm buying my NC annual license today after work. The roads are all accessible by Corvette, so no worries there. My gear is ready to throw in the car and just go. In addition, if I go I have a free place to stay and access to the local female populace. There is no end to the perfection of my plan...

Apparently the [name withheld for fishing OPSEC] Creek where I'll be starting is one of the least fished stretches of water in the entire park, but has some of the biggest Browns and Rainbows in the region. Nice, open water for most of it - I'll be throwing lots of line, which always feels sexy as hell because I'm quite good at it. Regardless, there likely won't be anyone there to observe my awesome skills, but that's nothing to complain about. Quite the opposite. I despise having some gaper all up in my AO flailing a stick about like a retard with a paintbrush. Anyway.

I'm super excited about this trip, in case you missed that. This place does have some redeeming features after all!

Ah hell, back to work for me. All for now.

Edited to add: Went to [strip club] last night for military appreciation night. Got to see a possibly pregnant near-midget stripper (!) and a girl dance to a super-bass remix Brokencyde's Freaxxx, which is just so... fuck, words don't quite do it justice. Youtube that shit. Let's get fuckin' freaky now.

Back To Reality

... damnit. Another few days of that would have been really nice. Not sure I can afford another couple days of bar tabs like that though - hot damn did I drink a lot. Whiskey will be the death of me.

I did get to spend Saturday on the water; not on the Clinch but on some smaller mountain streams in beautiful Smokey Mountain National Park. The water there is clear as a Sapphire and Tonic, the fish are wild and skittish. Catch and release only, naturally. It is as close to "pure" fly fishing as one can get and presents quite an enjoyable challenge to those willing to learn. Though the fish are small compared to many bigger waters, catching them holds its own reward - and there are some big Browns hiding in places, though few ever catch them.

It's a very different environment than I'm used to. Instead of meandering through a high mountain hay meadow, these creeks cascade rapidly down narrow canyons, choked on either side by brush and trees waiting to entangle your fly on a careless back cast. I was glad to have the 9' 5 weight that my dad built on a Sage blank, as its stiff backbone makes roll- and side-casting a breeze compared to smaller rods. Still looking into getting a dedicated Smokeys rod. I'm thinking a 7'6" 4 weight will do the trick nicely - maneuverability being the objective there. Perhaps I can pressure my dad into building me one, as I'd much prefer that to something factory-built. It will certainly cost me a very nice bottle of single malt, however.

Well look at me getting all poetic here... must be the exhaustion catching up with me. My drive back was actually fairly pleasant, much nicer than my usual I-95 hatefest going to/from New York. If you've never driven I-40, there's 30-40 mile stretch (if that) which crosses the NC/TN border and the Smokey Mountains. It is damn hilly and windy, though not quite like the famous Dragon which parallels it approximately 20 miles to the south (note to self: take the detour next time). Anyway, I'm fairly certain that I never dropped below 75 mph for that whole stretch, even with traffic. I was watching my G-meter (yes, my car has a G-meter, suck it) and I never even broke .60... I'm convinced that, under ideal conditions, this road can be done at speeds of no less than 90 mph. Conservatively. For the record, I've gotten the meter to nearly double the aforementioned number - 1.15g is my best, or at least the best when my retinas weren't in the process of detaching, thereby preventing me from reading said gauge. I do love the twisty roads.

My clock informs me that I have work in approximately seven hours. Suppose I had better have one last Fat Tire, fold my laundry and get some rest. Cheers.

Dear Knoxville, TN

I love you. I never want to leave. Will you be mine?

For real, this city rocks. I'm drinking quite well for pretty cheap and the weather is beautiful. I got my car very nicely detailed for $20, and gorgeous girls are honking and blowing kisses at me. I feel like a fucking stud right now. The possibilities for this weekend are looking good.

Yours,

Jack

Canadia, Fuck Yeah

Wooo! Got some more bling for my ASUs - Canadian Airborne wings. Bad ass.

Had all day yesterday off as compensation for our jump on Sunday. It went pretty well, except for the part where I knocked myself slightly unconscious... shit happens when you throw yourself from moving aircraft. I was lucky enough to get a ride in the Cadillac (C-17) with a Canadian Jumpmaster - hence the new swag.

Spent that night out in a field in 21 degree weather with nearly constant winds, wrapped in nothing but my snivel gear, a poncho, and liner for said poncho ("woobie", a silky lightly insulated blanket, for you civilians). That was very nearly the coldest I've ever been. Sleep was fleeting and miserable. Between the cold, C-17s landing and taking off about a click away, and nearly getting run over by an armored HMMWV, I probably got somewhere around an hour of actual shut-eye. And some nice pneumonia-like symptoms to boot.

Well, my gear's ready and my bags are packed for my upcoming four-day weekend in Knoxville. I haven't been this excited to go anywhere in quite awhile. Hopefully the fishing will be halfway decent, but I'll be content just to throw some line out and get back into the swing of things. The forecast calls for unseasonably pleasant weather, so either way it should be a nice, relaxing weekend! Can't wait.

Hopefully my next post will contain pictures of some giant fish next to my fly rod on the bank. It's either that or some good fish stories!

Deuces.

Mommas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Airborne

My ruck weighs approximately 70 pounds... sans ammo. Note to self: kill self.

Not looking forward to jumping into 2-3 days of miserable weather with this bitch strapped to me. Not to mention my 10 lb radio, M4, etc, etc. Then we get to walk back! Air fucking borne.

I'm incredibly butthurt about this whole situation, as you can tell. Gah. Should've been an intel analyst. Live and learn.

Five days til Tennessee and (hopefully) some good fishing... and maybe a little 'shine, if I'm lucky. But for now...

GONE PARATROOPING

One Week Til I'm In My Happy Place

My happy place being knee deep in a trout stream, 5-weight Sage in my hand, fly in the water, and halfway through a flask of single malt. I'll be taking advantage of our four day President's Day weekend and heading up to Knoxville, TN to fish the tailwaters of the world-famous Clinch River with some great old friends. I've basically spent my entire life fly fishing the high mountain streams and lakes of Colorado, so I'm looking forward to a new experience in some unexplored territory. Supposedly the Clinch is very technical due to the volume of attention it receives, so it'll be light leaders and tiny nymphs for the most part. May the fly fishing gods grant me patience and precision.

Last time I put a line to water was... October 2010, when I pulled a 23" Brown out of the Roaring Fork of the North Platte River.

I shall burn in fly fishing hell for not getting out more.

Woo Super Bowl. Almost As Cool As My New Phone.

I'm really hoping I'll get to see Tom Brady cry like a little bitch. Not tears of joy, either - I want to see those six year old, my-puppy-got-hit-by-an-18-wheeler tears. Cruel? Bitch I might be.

Been playing with my new phone a lot lately. It's pretty amazing. If you're in the market for a new smartphone, I'd definitely check out the Razr Maxx. Sure, it's kinda giant, but it's also incredibly fast, light, and tough. The battery life is insane in the membrane - just unbelievable (21 hours of talk time, or 15 hours of video. That shit cray). Full HD video for making amateur porn recording yourself doing idiotic things, and 4G service to speed said idiotic footage to the internet! You'll be making yourself look like an asshole in no time!

This, of course, invites the inevitable comparison to Apple's market-dominating iPhone. Razr Maxx > iPhone 4s, no contest.

I prefer Android's user friendliness and customizability (is that a word? google says no, but I'M THE GODDAMN CAPTAIN ON THIS SHIP, not google) rather than the iPhone/iPod's dumbed-down and seemingly forced functionality. Maybe it's just me though. What about Siri, you say? Who gives a fuck, ever heard of the internet and voice to text? If I wanted a female voice to go everywhere with me, bitch constantly and give me unwanted advice, I'd go buy a girlfriend.

I also got the extra-douchey windshield mount for it so I can land nav like a pro... or turn it sideways, activate said full HD video camera, and record me raping and pillaging whatever idiot thinks he can take me in his Mustang. Muwahahaha. This can only end well.

So uh, go Giants, etc

Why I Don't Go to Gun Shows

Dude.

If you've never been to a gun show, it is, well... an experience. If you have, you know what I'm talking about.

For starters, the "people" that inhabit these strange places are, to put it delicately, fucking weirdos. Okay, that wasn't delicate at all. But it is accurate. Ever seen a CLEARLY (read: fat shaggy fuckstick) non-military guy walking around in full ACUs poorly bloused into black combat boots, admiring Nazi memorabilia? Because I definitely witnessed that today.

He was probably the worst I saw, but seriously, I have no idea where these things hide when they're not at gun shows. What do they do? What do they eat? And why do they walk and talk like us? Daddy, I'm scared.

Then there's the random assortment of shit for sale. Not just the absolutely absurd prices and horrible quality of firearms, but the stuff that just rings that little WTF? alarm in your brain. The aforementioned Nazi memorabilia is fucking weird, creepy, and inappropriate. Fucking ninja swords and shit? Really? Airsoft... okay, I guess. Coins? Pretty sure those have not a goddamn thing to do with guns. Beef jerky and hot sauce get a pass just because, well, it's beef jerky and hot sauce, and if you don't like those then you're probably a freedom-hating terrorist. I can't even think what other random crap there inevitably is (because now I'm thinking about beef jerky... mmm), but it's definitely well inside "full retard" territory.

On the plus side, I did score some hard-to-find ammo for a pretty decent price. Got some of my carry loads for my 1911 (Win PDX-1 bonded HP .45 ACP, if anyone cares) and some Remington FMJ range stuff for my 10mm Glock.

There were a couple things I would have purchased if funding was no issue. First was a mint unfired '70s Colt SP1 AR15 for $1650... useless, but a solid investment. Some guy had a very nice Ithaca 37 Deerslayer 12 gauge for like $450, which would kick ass at dealing with any home intruders. Finally was a Rock River 1911 - a truly beautiful and completely handbuilt work of functional art, set up exactly as if I'd built it myself... if I'd had the $2700 for it, I'd be posting pictures of it right now.

All for now. I'm going to go drink now. Stay classy.

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

So any form of hard alcohol has been banned in my barracks, time: 2100 last night. Reason? I've not confirmed this, but completely believable sources inform me that division's had five (5) suicides over the 24 hour period leading up to the ban.

Yes, five out of ~22,000 paratroopers independently decided that yesterday was their day to take their own lives. Here's some other interesting statistics: As of Thursday, 2 Feb, my corps (~50k people) had experienced six (6) suicides and 25 cases of domestic violence for the calendar year.

Yet somehow we're the "best corps in the entire U.S. Army" (CO's words, not mine). Right. This place is so amazing that when people go home from work, they beat their wives and kill themselves at an absolutely staggering rate.

But back to the alcohol ban. Instead of this being a wake-up call as it should be, it's being swept under the rug and given the same old tired and ineffective blanket policy approach. "Oh, they're killing themselves at a pace that would make cultists blush? It's obviously not anything we're doing here... it's gotta be the booze. Yeah, that's it. Gotta be the booze." Face, meet palm.

What NEEDS to happen is that someone needs to give even half a fuck about the welfare of our soldiers and recognize that changes must be made in the way we approach issues like anger and depression. Suicide and domestic abuse are symptoms of a larger problem, especially when they occur at such dramatic rates. While alcohol certainly will exacerbate the situation, alcohol alone is not to blame for someone suck-starting their pistol or putting a hoe in her place abusing their significant other.

Fuck this place. Fuck this place so hard.

I'm going to the gun show... may post something there from my new super pimp dope-ass phone (Razr MAXX). Seriously, this thing is amazing.