Tis' the Season

Christmas Recap

After watching football late on Christmas Eve, I spent Christmas Day sleeping in late, talking to Gwen (who is currently having the best holiday season EVER in Hit, Iraq, I might add), and finally going up to my friend Libby's house where she and a couple of house guests from out of town kindly cooked dinner for myself and several other local currently-away-from-family refugees. It was a fine meal, accompanied by good wine, and the night ended up in several giggly games of Taboo in which the team I was on absolutely destroyed the other poor team to the point of head-shaking high comedy. I'm guessing those were some of the most lop-sided games in Taboo history. (We're talking scores of like 35 to 6 here.)

Oh Christmas Tree


And, as always, my yule tide season has been anchored by the assembly and decoration of my kick-ass Star Wars Christmas Tree, which has been in existence and put up for five straight seasons now. (Although technically I've only put it up for FOUR seasons, because I never took it down after the first season, leaving it up for over a year (nearly 18 months in all actually) for various reasons. Mostly I just never got around to taking it down. But it's continuous presence did make for some interesting conversation throughout that year. For example, have you ever toasted your Christmas tree while staring at it on the fourth of July? I have.) My mom continues to be my Christmas accessory drug dealer of sorts, and has dutifully supplied me with not only the initial purchase of the tree itself, but also all the ornaments and all the yearly updates as well, ensuring that my tree stays continually fresh, hip, and edgy.

Now the sad part of this tale is that Gwen also loves this tree, and has been an instrumental part of its set-up and overall production/enjoyment the past few years, and so with her still gone it was with a bit of a heavy heart and a multitude of sighs (not to mention about a bottle of wine) that I undertook - all by myself this year - the chore of unpacking, constructing, lighting, and decorating this amazing tree for the 2006 Christmas season. And though the process of putting it up was somewhat sad, I remain pleased with the result. Now the tree stands stolidly in the corner of the family room, symbolizing this year the bitter-sweet dichotomy of my being back and Gwen's continued absence.

Happy Holidays.




Best Tree Ever





AT-AT with circling snow speeder - one of this year's new pieces





TIE Fighter - A Classic






Push that button on the side and you can hear the big news that Darth has for Luke!





"Is the dark side stronger?"

Hiatus Over

Its been a while, but here we are. When I last posted on this blog, my situation was a little, uh, different. But I'm back, as promised, and after comparing Blogger to Typepad (and with the need for uber-security diminished quite a bit) I've decided to switch the bulk of my "operation" back here. The Hidden Lair remains, however, for those super-secret-defcon-five posts, and the link remains conveniently on the sidebar.

December has gone by quickly for me, and I realize that I haven't been posting much. I started working again at Landstuhl several weeks ago, and that has been going well. I've also been having some fun on the weekends, traveling a little bit, hanging out with Pete and some other friends, taking a more serious stab at learning the German language and basically just trying to enjoy myself while getting my "normal" life fully up and running again. I'd say I'm about 75% there.

Hopefully I'll catch up on the details in the coming weeks, and sadly I have several half-written "draft" posts saved over at the other site, which for one reason or another never got completed and posted. Also, I'm several weeks behind on emails as well - so my apologies - I'll be trying to respond to most of them in the near future.

And with that, here's some pics. Anji took Pete and I Kegeling a few weeks ago, which was a blast.














Hiatus

The Lord of the Funboys is taking a break. While in Iraq, this all-too-public site is going to go on hiatus. But fear not, upon my return to Germany, the Lord of the Funboys will be back - and be better than ever.

Thanks to all for the readership, thoughts and support. Email me if you'd like more information (or leave a comment below), and enjoy the archives and older posts until I get back.


As my mom would say, behave, be nice, and be good. And always remember, watching "Friends" is really just another form of letting the terrorists win....

CPT Funboy, out.

Hot enough for ya?

Monday, May 1st, Deployment Day 37

Baghdad, Iraq



Another day in paradise.

We are starting to get a whiff of what full blown summer will be like here. Yesterday, according to our GI Joe super-action wet-and-dry bulb Army thermometer (translation: lowest bidder piece of crap) that we have set up outside the aid station, it was about 105 degrees. That's hot. How hot? Well, I guess hot enough that the 4-minute walk to the room from the aid station is enough to sap the life out of me. Hot enough that the wind makes it feel hotter, not cooler. Luckily, we're only required to wear full length pants, jacket, hat, and boots. Wouldn't want to get cold.

That said, I must admit that one of my new favorite annoyances out here is talking about how hot it is. Sadly, I'm prone to do it just like anyone else, but in a group I always end up kicking myself because the conversation inevitably turns into somebody saying how "this is nothing" and "last time I was here, it reached 150 degrees in the shade!" or some such similar thing. Then it becomes a pissing contest between people who have been previously deployed, and stubborn Army-guy A refuses to be outdone by stubborn-Army- guy B and what ensues is a ridiculous exchange along the lines of: (there has to be cursing, or this wouldn't be an accurate descpription of infantry guys)

Guy A: "Shit, this ain't nothing, last time I was here it got up to 150 degrees in the shade!"

Guy B: "Yeah, back in Kuwait, though, that shit'll hit 165 degrees like what happened to us..."

Guy A: "Hell, I think one time we was at like 170 degrees in our barracks..."

Meanwhile, I just kind of shake my head and try and stop myself from interjecting with something like, "Shit, one time I tunneled to the center of the Earth and my face melted off - that was hot." Only I'm afraid that the conversation would stop, both parties would stare at me, then after a brief silence, Guy A would say, "Shit, that ain't nothing, sir - one time we was convoyin' in the center of the sun and..."

So anyway its hot out. But apparently not that hot. Yet. Dually noted.

The dogs are no longer a problem in the FOB. I spoke with Ronnie about the resolution of the situation. He was happy they were gone, but he sounded unsatisfied. I guess he and some Seargant went out in a Hum V and Ronnie clipped two of the dogs with his pistol. The other dogs supposedly escaped through a hole in the wall of the outer perimter of the FOB, which is apparently the entry point those dogs were using (i.e. planning their tactical ops from). That's all well and good, I suppose, but the tale raised my eyebrows because there was a "hole in the wall" in the first place. And if those dogs could come in, then what else could? Anyway, the problem has been addressed and I think there shouldn't be any more dogs j- or anything else - coming through the opening. But who knows?

And that's it. Just a quick update today. Also wanted to give a shout out to all my package-senders (Mama Stup, Gwen, Eryn/Liz/PPR, Johny Lesh (Postcard), and James Martin - who wins the head-shaking "what the hell?!" package award. Of course, despite him sending pantyhose, a reggae hat, a coloring book, hair dye, GAY PORN (I'm NOT kidding - I didn't even know there was a magazine called Blueboy....) and other random stuff just for giggles, he also sent multiple books/DVDs/Computer stuff/PSP games most importantly a large bottle of "Listerine" which smelled funny, tasted weird, and tasted strangely well with coke... so awesome work. Boy, did we use that stuff up quick - and our breath has never been fresher. People keep asking what I need - but I don't NEED anything. All the necessities are covered.

Oh, and my unofficial email award of the week goes to Chris Vinnard, who wrote the following line:


"i was eating a steak last night in brooklyn, right after enjoying a
cold beer in my favorite neighborhood bar, and i thought to myself, "you
know, i feel like my freedom isn't quite defended hard enough right now". so
get to work on it mike."


Nice work, Chris. I'm going to re-double my efforts. Jerk.

OK, I'm out - more later.

"It's Groundhog's Day....Again."

Wednesday, April 26th, 2006

Deployment Day 32

Baghdad, Iraq


"STRIKE UP THE MUSIC, WE'LL HAVE LOTS OF FUN..(bum-bum-bum-bum) - A PENN-SYL-VANIA POL-KA!"

Before I ever arrived here at the "cradle of civilization", I had heard many times about how deployment is a lot like the movie, "Groundhog's Day". Its the same day, over and over again, with only minor differences here and there that all blur together anyway when one looks back over any significant span of time. I would say that this outlook is mostly true, though with the caveat (at least in my own case), that a sort of Groundhog's week seems like a more appropriate expression. The weekdays all blend together, for sure. But the weekends have enough of a difference to make them markers of progress, or at least markers of difference. Allow me, kind people, to break down my week for you.

[Side Note: I'm going to be purposely a little vague here. On the one hand I don't want to invite the ire of the Orwellian higher-ups who may or may not be scanning this thing from time to time. (Click on the "Rinard" link on the side if you want to know what I mean.) And more importantly, I honestly don't want to give away any information which some insurgent could potentially use to find a good time or place to mortar us. So specific times, locales, and other details are going to be deliberately vague (or even false) on purpose. Further, I know many of you probably want me to "go off" on the Army and the situation a little more than I'm probably doing. I'm holding back on that front for many reasons. One is my constantly evolving and shifting opinion of this whole thing. Another is the whole Orwellian thing as above. And there are other issues. But rest assured, there will be a time and a place for all those things, and it may or may not be on this blog.]

Monday Thru Friday


Most of the weekdays are prettty similar. My typical day goes a little something like this. (*strums guitar*). I wake up fairly early (but not too early). Go to breakfast and eat oatmeal and get coffee. Then I roll over to sick call and end up spending the bulk of my day at the aid station. There is a 1-2 hour lunch break in there to break up the day. When I first got here, sick call was seeing about 1-3 people on average per day. So that's not very many at all. More recently, our numbers have jumped, and we see like 5-6 per day. That's still not many. Jeff, my PA, is also there, so we're really splitting the "workload" between two people. And technically, only one provider (i.e Jeff or I) is required to be there, so one of us will occasionally take a morning off to sleep in, or an afternoon off to run errands or something.

When its dead in sick call (and it often is), I spend my time either reading, drinking coffee and shooting the breeze, emailing, or playing a mindless-but-fun puzzle game called "Zuma" on the aid station computer. We also find time every day to get the "Stars and Stripes", which is the daily (and totally unbiased!) military newspaper. So I read through that and about the wonderful job we're doing over here, and then do the jumble, crossword, sudoku, and cryptic. At times someone will bring DVDs in, and I've certainly gotten through many sick calls watching episodes of South Park with my medics.

After sick call, I usually head back to the room and chill out a bit. Nap, read, email, whatever. The government computers at the aid station are good for email and work stuff but little else. So any power surfing needs to be done back in my room. Its kind of nice because they have a wireless service here at the FOB, which is called FUBI, and unnervingly stands for "For Us By Iraqis". The service works OK, and costs me about 2 bucks an hour to be logged in. But as we all know, sweet internet is worth just about any price. Apparently there is a huge dish here on the FOB which beams out the signal, and the company is actually French run. That said, I still don't do any online billing on it. (I can actually do that stuff on the government computer, which I'm betting is far more secure.)

After work and before dinner I'm just about always at the gym for an hour or two. This is my favorite part of deployment, thus far. That is, the ability to get back in really good shape. I've been in Iraq for about 28 days now, and I'm proud to say that I've missed going to the gym on only 3 of those days. (Oh, I'm toning up baby, and everyone out there better be READY for when I get back!) All the exercise is definitely good for body and mind, and I seriously haven't been working out like this since my senior year of college on the track team. I'm already seeing results - its kind of interesting what you can do in this arena if you have the time. In fact, between the constancy of diet and the regularity of exercise out here, there are many potential physiologic experiments to be performed.

After working out, its time to hit the showers (insert one of infinitely possible homo-erotic jokes here). Actually, the showers here are pretty damn nasty, and don't really lend themselves to any sort of erotic encounter. I have to wear flip flops (aka "shower shoes") the entire time. There is dirt and mud on the floor of the showers and on the floor of the general shower area. There is no where to sit, and so transitioning from toweled near-nudity to wearing underwear requires delicate balance and a precisely-timed, bastardized hop-step version of a Daniel Larusso crane kick, lest one's underwear touches ones still-dirty foot upon donning the garment. (I keep having visions of myself losing my balance at the critical moment of this process, and then taking a horrifically unceremonious spill onto the ground, rolling face first in Iraqi mud and bathroom muck, and then going fetal for about a week until they MEDEVAC me to the Landstuhl psych floor...but I digress.)

After the shower, its dinner time. I usually meet up and eat with Jeff and some of the other providers. The meals at the DFAC are pretty repetitive, with the exception of the aforementioned Friday "Surf and Turf". More on the generalized insidiousness of the DFAC in a later post. After dinner its strictly down time for the most part. Unlike some other providers at other locations, Jeff and I aren't really supposed to be going to any military meetings or the like, and thank heavens. (Poor Gwen is stuck doing this.) So upon getting back to the room, I have to make a decision about emailing, surfing, reading, playing on Jeff's X-box, listening to Jeff play on his X-box (For Nordoc!), playing the PSP, or watching DVDs. More on "the room" and our diversions there in a later post as well. Also, there is a movie night once a week over at the TMC for the providers as well. That's where we saw "The Beating of the Christ".

The Weekend

Everybody's working for it, and Friday night begins the transition to said weekend. Saturday is somewhat similar to other days - there is still sick call all day with lunch etc., exactly like the other days. Sunday is a nice break because there is no morning sick call, and thus its the only day in which I'm guaranteed to be able to sleep in. There is a short two hour afternoon sick call which is usually painless. Poker night occurs on the weekend (not saying which night, or what time, or where we play - got that mortar-happy insurgent jerks?), and that is my favorite part of the week. Its a providers-only game, usually including some docs, some PA's, our physical therapist, our psychologist, and our dentist. Sometimes less people, but never more than 12. We play Hold Em. Remember, we're Not Gambling (we're just pointing). Its kind of a tournament style set up. We theoretically (but again, only in theory) "buy in". Then everyone gets the same number of red, blue, white, and black chips. The blinds increase every twenty minutes and we play until there is one winner. Theoretical winnings (which again, don't actually exist) go to first and second place. I have no particular love of poker, but I don't dislike it either, and the game and the aura of the night itself are fun. We all sit around, open up a little, listen to music, drink near-beer, and smoke a stogie or two. (Or if you're Jeff, my roommate, you smoke about 4 stogies.)

And that's basically an average week. There is overnight call at the TMC, which all the providers (docs and PAs) split, and it comes up once every 6-9 days or so, depending on the schedule. Jeff and I have it worked out so that if either of us is on call, then the other gets a break for sick call on the before and after days, and it all works out pretty well.

And there it is - the average routine. All I need is a little daily Sonny and Cher on my wake up alarm...

This Past Week - Highlights

Poker

So I won at poker this last week, which rocked. A day or so before the game, I got a package which included some absolutely SICK cigars from the one and only Papa Roston. And there I was, sitting back at poker night, going to town on this retardedly high-quality and expensive cigar, and I'm just getting dealt hand after hand of solid cards. It had to be the PPR mojo, I'm telling you. It came down to me and my roommate for first and second, and he went "all in" on the turn card. I thought he might have a full house (there were two fours on the flop, and he went all in after a five came out on the turn), but I thought he might be bluffing too. I had a four in my hand (giving me three of a kind), and after an agonizing five minutes of debate, I called his "all in". He had two pair, but could have beaten me on the river with a jack, which would have given him said full house, but he didn't get it and I won. Greatest poker moment of my life. (Though admittedly there's not many to choose from) Anyway, I got a bunch of pats on the back and it wasn't too bad a night. And damn that cigar was mighty good.

Mortar Attack

We got mortared this past week. Or possibly it was a rocket attack. Can't say where it hit, but I can say that I was about a two minute walk from the place at the time. So not that far. Jeff and I were playing the X-box in the room, and there was this huge BOOM. Oh shit, we thought. (In a weird aside, we were playing this co-op Tom Clancy first person shooter at the time, and only a moment before we had been killed in the game by a sudden RPG ambush, which actually startled me with its suddeness. So when the real boom went off, though it was much louder and I felt in in my chest and shit in our room actually bounced a little, for a split second I thought it was the game again. But just for an instant.) So we turned the game off, and went outside. To be honest, at first we didn't know WHAT it was - for all we knew it could have been another controlled detonation of a discovered IED, which happens all the time. But when we got outside, we saw some people running around in "full battle rattle" and thus we sped off to the TMC to await casualties. Thankfully, there were absolutely NO casualties. But it shook us up a little all the same. Just another day in Iraq, I guess.

Orange Storm

There is something nutty and almost biblical about some of the various rainstorms here. A few days ago, we had a sudden thunder-storm, which lasted only an hour or so, but which drenched everything. I'm told that when these things start out here, there is a dust storm several hundred feet up in the air prior to the rain. The sky looks overcast, but its different, very hazy. And then everything goes completely ORANGE. Its very strange, like a movie set, where everything appears almost backlit by orange. This orange starts to intensify to a fiery reddish orange, surpassing even sunset orange, (and this will happen in the very middle of the day) to the point where I felt like this place was transforming itself into a portal to the very gaping maw of Hell. And then boom, the rain starts coming down with a vengeance. And its not just rain - each drop has particular sand and dust in it - forming a sort of mini sand hail so that you can see bounce off the turf as it hits. Its very, very strange. I took a few pictures of the build up, though they don't do it justice.

(PS - In the next post I'll update about the dogs - right now I have to go wail on my pecs...)



"Orange Death", prior to the storm




Immediately after, same camera settings




About a half hour after, same camera settings...