The Non-Bucket List: The Bucket List I Never Planned On

The hardest part about maintaining a second-rate blog is not a shortage of ideas. It is actually prioritizing the stupidity of my life and trying to determine what to write about. The other day I was enjoying a cool afternoon in the embassy garden. I was thinking about how I ended up here. I was reminiscing about when Emily and I got married and moved to Missoula. If you had told me at that point that I would pack up and leave Montana I would have called you a liar.

As I sat in the garden, I thought about how living in Islamabad was never even on my mind…..ever. It is not that it is a bad place. In fact, if the security situation was a lot better, it would actually be a nice place to visit. But alas, I would not be here if that were the situation. I began to think about the movie "The Bucket List" and all of the things that they had on their list that they wanted to do before they died. Having little initiative and having low expectations I have achieved everything on my bucket list, in case you are wondering they are:

1. Get a job

2. Live past 30

There was no particular order to my bucket list; however, I have managed to achieve both and as a bonus I actually got a girl to marry me!

Living a life of mediocrity has its privileges. Since neither one of those topics are overly exciting to write about I have decided that I would make a list of things I never wanted to do, that I am currently doing and have accomplished with any level of success. I call it my "Non-Bucket List" and will discuss them as I think about them or when they occur.

Today's Non-Bucket List (NBL) is something that most people would probably not plan for. Why would they…..Livestock pooping in my house:

Pakistan is home to exotic animals like goats, cows, chickens, and monkeys. You can probably already see where this is heading. Some very good friends of mine were leaving Pakistan, so naturally I decided to host a party at my house. My house mates focused on details like food, plastic plates, and utensils. I on the other hand focused my attention on getting the guy that walks around town with the goat and the monkey.

I spent the better part of the week obsessing about getting a goat and a monkey for the shindig. At D minus 1, I still did not have a goat or a monkey. I had exhausted all of my contacts in Islamabad. I have experienced pressure before and failure was not an option. I went to a friend and asked if he knew a contact for a goat/monkey man (yes there is more than one). It turned out that Nadeem my tailor knew a monkey/goat guy. All that time and all I had to do, call the guy that makes my suits.

All I really wanted was the monkey; who doesn't like a Monkey that does tricks. The monkey was amazing, it did back flips, played soldier, fell over dead, did amazing pushups, and for a finale walked and sat like a "gentlemen." Following that the monkey was available for photos. Everyone was reluctant to sit next to the monkey, especially since G-Money still has a scar from the last time he went to a party with a monkey. Being the big man that I am went first, I made a crucial mistake; a mistake that I will never make again. As I approached the monkey, I looked at it and smiled. NEVER look a monkey in the eye. It came at me. My fight or flight instincts kicked in and I ran screaming. G-Money then informed me that you should never look a monkey in the eye, after all he has the scar to prove it.

While the "Gentlemen" monkey was entertaining the goat was amazing but relatively boring. It did two tricks; the first was that it stood on very small wood pedestals. The monkey/goat guy would put another block on and the goat would balance. The second trick was that it crapped on my floor, which seemed to get more laughs than anything. That was pretty much it for the goat. Below are the pictures.

What social gathering would be complete without goat crap on the floor?

Hot or Not: queue the crying game

I have seriously neglected this blog. I apologize to my mom, since she is most likely the only one that reads this. “Sorry Mom.”

That out of the way, it has been a while since I have posted, this is due to the fact that I sent my computer in for repair and HP lost it. Since most of my time at work is spent pushing paper around I do not really have time to blog.

There is no shortage of material since I attract awkward situations. Admittedly some of it is the result of being a big dumb animal, the rest is purely circumstantial. Take last night for instance. I had some friends over for pizza and a movie. What could be awkward about that? Let me tell you……..

I called the local Pizza Hut, (yes it is an actual Pizza Hut) to order, which is always difficult because I speak Montana English and they speak Pakistan English. This leads to what we refer to as “satisfraction” as we get a “Paksimile” of Pizza Hut (an explanation of these terms will be in a future post). Thirty minutes plus twenty minutes or so later I get a phone call from the pizza delivery guy stating that stating that he is at the gate and my guard won’t let him in.

I pay the pizza man and then we go to great discussion about how I ordered diet Pepsi and that he brought regular Pepsi. I finally realized that the customer is not right and accepted the regular Pepsi, complete “satisfraction.” We eat most of the pizza, completely ignoring the one that has a swirl of mayonnaise, again pizza here is a perfect example of a “Paksimile.”

Let’s fast forward to Monday morning. The first awkward event occurs at 4:34 a.m. when my phone chirps. It is a text message that states “Mr brant u r very beautiful man.” While this message would alarm the average person, I rolled over and went back to sleep thinking it was a friend from work; it is common for us to cold call people and harass them at night.

The second awkward event occured when I woke up several hours later. I went to the kitchen where I was greeted by my cook, Niamot. Niamot takes very good care of us, mainly because we pay him. The morning routine starts with him offering me a “Paksimile” of a smoothie; he calls it big power, as in “you must drink big power.” Instead I was greeted as if I was a cheating spouse that just got caught with lipstick on my collar. “You ordered Pizza Hut, what was wrong with the pizza I made you?” I replied that we had many people over and that we needed more pizza. The flaw with that was that no one touched his pizza. He then asked me what I wanted for lunch which is usually the second discussion of the morning. I being the big dumb animal said “just pack me some pizza; we have a ton left over.” He asked me which pizza I wanted; mistake number two I responded with “There is a ton of Pizza Hut left, just give me a couple of slices.” Now I am really in the dog house.

Fast forward a couple of hours. I approach my friend at work and said “hey, thanks for the text at 4:34 a.m.” He looked at me strange. There was an awkward silence and I went out to look at the message. I didn’t recognize the number, so I called it. There was no answer so I went to work. Then I ate my controversial pizza for lunch.

After a grueling day of shredding paper and making coffee, a friend and I went to dinner, tempting fate because our cook’s food will remain untouched (I cannot wait for tomorrow morning). I told her about the text, she laughed and told me to call it again. I got no answer so she dialed the number and a local man picked up the phone. She said sorry wrong number and hung up. A few minutes later my phone rings. It is the mysterious number. I answered the phone and said, “good evening, you texted me this morning, who is this.”

This is where it goes beyond awkward and becomes downright uncomfortable. The man begins to giggle and says “I delivered your pizza last night.” I said “oooohhhhh” and promptly hung up. I handed my phone to my friend and asked her to verify that the number on the text was the same that I just received. Not knowing whether to delight in the “satisfraction” that I am "beautiful man" or poor some boiling water over my body I called our commo guy and arranged to get a new phone number first thing in the morning.

I then stopped at the store on the way home and purchased scouring pads and bleach. Don't call, I won't answer as I will be in the shower for the next couple of hours.

My wife is the greatest. Even though she refuses to send pictures on a regular basis, she is a nice person. We have been married for 12 years and I can honestly say that during that time we have only had two arguments, one was the new big t.v. which I didn’t want. The other was about a fishing trip that she said I could go on but then the day before she said she needed the truck. Even after a month of daily remainders, she still forgot. But she has gotten much better; sometimes she even calls people and tells them that I need to go fishing before I drive her insane. Another neat thing about my wife is that she supports my bike habit even though a meth or crack habit would be cheaper.

It has become a tradition that whenever I reach a milestone in life I get to buy a bike. My Iraq bike is the Salsa Las Cruces.



The next bike I purchase is what I like to call the "I am pretty much signing on for another crap tour overseas.” The first ever Army Officer Captains Retention Incentive bonus purchased the Salsa El Mariachi 29er. I even allowed Emily to purchase a new furnace for the house, mainly so the tire pressure would remain consistent due to temperature changes.

I am not sure why I bought the Basso other than the fact I like it. I call it "the Mistress" which of course Emily dislikes due to the fact that I tell people I am going to go spend some quality time with my "Mistress." I do not know what the big deal is but my wife is #1 in my world.

As soon as I arrived in Pakistan I began shopping for the “Pakistan” bike. I called my local bike shop and he had just the bike for me, the 2011 Giant Anthem X 29er.

He basically said that it would be a great bike for a guy my size (big). Which is basically saying that “based on your size you probably ride like a hippo does ballet, you just hit everything in your way.” Although he has never ridden with me this is true.

Getting back to my nice wife, one day as we spoke on the phone she asked me where I was going to put the fourth bike. We do not have a garage, two are hanging on the wall in the family room, one is in the basement with her bike. It is a reasonable question. My first thought was move kid number four into kid number one’s room and create the BIKE ROOM. I was informed that would not be an option. I then suggested that we get rid of the washer and dryer, further suggesting that Emily go the laundry mat. She did not buy my efficiency argument which basically suggested that she could do 10 loads in the time it takes to do one. I am just trying to help.

This is where it gets really great. She said "maybe if we move the Basso over we can make room on the wall for the new one." She is the greatest wife ever!

The Problem of 1 Ply Toilet Tissue

During this post I will be pushing the limits of decency. The intent is not to discuss a taboo topic but to help you grasp some of the issues that those in the service face daily. As a member of the United States military, I have taken an oath to defend the nation against enemies both foreign and domestic. I am currently deployed to Pakistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom (Afghanistan for those who may have lived in a cave, no pun intended, for the last 10 years).
There are certain advantages to this location; the biggest difference is the living conditions in Pakistan are far better than that of Iraq or Afghanistan. The drawback of course is living off of the economy, which is military speak for “there is no chow hall so good luck.” The obvious drawback to this is that we get to eat exotic foods, by exotic I mean poorly stored and prepared in less than sanitary conditions. It also means that the water is bad. By bad I mean the tanks at our house currently have green stuff and bugs growing in them.

While Pakistan is considered a high risk environment, I am not afraid of road side bombs, mortars, or rocket attacks. Now I am concerned with another type of explosion, one that can be just as devastating to moral and mental wellbeing. Yes, I am talking about explosive diarrhea. Feel free to continue reading because this blog will not focus on that and I will not go into further detail about color or consistency. But it is important to my post, “the problem with 1 ply toilet paper.” The reason I bring this up is that it is hard for the average person to relate to.

“What” you say, no extra soft quilted multi-ply toilet tissue (ESQMPTT) in Pakistan? The answer is yes but it is hard to find and it is not cheap. I know that is hard to relate when you live in the land of Quilted Northern, but here in the U.S. Embassy, Islamabad, Pakistan we get only the finest (and cheapest) 1 ply tissue. You can actually see through it. Which brings me to the real point, can it actually be cheaper for the government to buy Chuck Norris toilet paper then ESQMPTT. After all, we are spending billions of dollars a year to help Pakistan.

Here is my point, let us say you eat or drink something that seeks to annihilate your large and small intestines. Let us also say that you go to the bathroom at least 8-10 times a day because if you gamble you know the house always wins. Let us say that on average it takes 5 decent wipes (the output breaks the sound barrier based on the sonic boom at the end). Each wipe takes a solid 10 wraps of 1 ply tissue to ensure proper coverage and absorption (after all it is in the liquid form). Then you add the number of Embassy employees, we will round it off at an even 500, most of which are in the same fight whether they are state department of ODRP. So let’s do the math.

Ten times to the john multiplied by 5 decent wipes equals 50 decent wipes.
50 decent wipes multiplied by 10 solid wraps of 1 ply tissue equals 500 solid wraps.
500 solid wraps of 1 ply multiplied by 500 people equals 250,000 solid wraps of 1 ply.
Think about that 250,000 wraps of 1 ply.

Now consider that you could reduce that by half using ESQMPTT. True it would be the same amount of paper overall, but the element of comfort has been added. My point is that we probably go through the same amount of paper whether it is single or ESQMPTT. Plus I believe it would reduce chafing by 30%.

I know that there is possibly a margin of error in my estimates, but no more than +/- 5% but that I wanted to keep you informed of some of the sacrifices service members make to defend our great country.

Another Day

Emily has been pushing me to update my blog since she doesn’t like to be the focus of my attention. The problem is, there really isn’t that much to talk about. It is not that my job is secret or something cool like that. It is actually the opposite. After three months, I still squat at any open desk and my title of “the guy that does stuff” remains. There is only one task that has remained consistent throughout the time I have been here. In case you are wondering what that task is, it is carrying around a box with my stuff looking for the next open desk.

The other day I was sitting in a meeting while filling in for someone who was not there. A common topic came up. In typical military fashion, our vision sometimes does not extend very far past the front sight post of the rifle. In this case our organization is growing rapidly and there is no room in the chancery for us. The solution is simple, build a temporary facility to house us until a more permanent solution is available. The problem is, the facility they are planning to build still has fewer seats then we have butts.

The boss then mentioned that the building will not be complete for some time and that we are getting some inbounds. This is where it gets great “We are getting two more people this week. I know that we are already 5 computers/desks short but we will have to start planning this. Big guy, you are going to need to find a new seat to make room for the person coming tonight.” In case you are wondering this individual calls me “big guy.”

What I found particularly odd about this was that he knows I don’t have my own desk. So am I supposed to find a new other desk or what…..I am just confused.

On a positive note, I have found great pleasure in my work as well. The other day I was asked to staple a couple of pieces of paper together, although many would find that to be a daunting task, I wielded my Swingline like the warrior I am and stapled those pieces of paper. Rewarding, absolutely rewarding.

I have also found a new love for running. Running is a painful activity especially when it is really hot. But running gets me out of the office and the pain produced by running actually distracts from the pain of the office. I hope I step on a nail one day, which would be pure bliss compared to sitting in my borrowed chair for 12 hours.

The other day I saw a man on a bike, I was jealous. I stopped him to see if he would sell me his beat up Peugeot 10 speed, but alas, he did not speak English.

A Tale of Epic Romance: Part 2

For those of you who have logged on late, please make sure you read part one of this fabulous love story. I would also like to add, that this is based on my memory, the years are accurate but over time my I may have forgotten some of the specific details. However, to the best of my recollection this is both true and accurate.

Fast forward to 1994, I had finally gotten the urge to take the leap. Emily and I began dating. Much to her parents chagrin, we began to date regularly, but instead of notes and phone calls it was movies and late nights. The summer of 1994 I left for New Mexico for a couple of months. Emily wrote me letters and sent me stale cookies in a shoe box (in her defense they probably were not stale when they were put in the box and sent). I think I wrote to her once. Emily had even joined Cross Country that year so we could be together, unbeknownst to her I did not intend to do Cross Country anymore. I kind of felt bad about that because running sucks and she did it for me.

Things were going great but for some reason things began to fade. I still liked Emily but the though of being with the same person forever is somewhat overwhelming to a young man who was barely maintaining a 2.0 GPA and just wanted to ride a bike and fish. Then came a fateful day, Emily called me on the phone after we had some issues and she said “do you want to make this work or not.” Being an 18 year old male I was scared and still somewhat hurt from the first time she dumped me. So I said “No.” I was devastated. I do not blame Emily for the anger and hostility she had towards me (even if her anger was unjustly aimed at me) but I was confused.

The truth was my eye was on another girl who was working very hard at romancing me. Again, it is somewhat true that I had been avoiding Emily and figured she was going to end it eventually, but in the end, she twisted it and put it on me. I was the bad guy. What hurt the most was that her anger was unjustified because this was the way she had treated me before. You would have thought that she would have been more understanding having pulled this on me.

I was planning a trip to go visit a friend in Denmark, although my memory has faded it might have been the girl that Emily broke up with me over because of her ravenous jealousy. I didn't know how Emily knew that I was going to Denmark, but she called the day before I left to tell me to have a good trip. Little did I know but Emily was scheming. I think it is in the bible somewhere saying that there is nothing more bad then a scheming woman. I think.

A couple of months later I returned from Denmark. I was a 19 year old man with no ambition and bagging groceries/frying donuts at Safeway. I was clearly on a path to shift manager. I was hanging out with a friend Dan who was rising through the ranks of life about as fast as I was. We hung out in his basement and mountain biked, a lot. One day after a trip to Hastings to spend my hard earned donut money on a CD, Dan and I pulled up to his house there was a tall beautiful woman knocking on his door. It was Emily. She heard I was back in town and was scheming; never mess with a scheming woman. It says it in the bible.

We watched a movie in Dan’s basement. After it was over I drove her home and we sat there late into the night talking. I do not remember what we talked about, but I do remember how beautiful she was. I was about to leave, after all she was still in high school and I had to get up early to bag groceries when Emily leaned over and asked if we were back together. I said yes and she kissed me. It was not a small peck but a long passionate kiss. I thought it was a bit forward and borderline inappropriate but I went with it anyway. After all I hadn’t seen her in almost a year.

I was smitten; I was in a state of deep smit. Each day as I bagged groceries I could not wait until Emily got done with school so we could be together (much to her parents chagrin). Being with her was special I loved every moment of it. It was feeling I had never had. You know the one I am talking about. Your hands sweat, your heart beats uncontrollably (not that you really have a say in how it normally beats, but you know what I mean). Just the thought of being around her makes time slow down until you are with her and then it seems to speed up so your time together is so short it seems like seconds. We spent all of our free time together and then it happened. One day, Emily and I were sitting on the stairs going to Dan’s basement, I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned over and told Emily I loved her. She was somewhat taken aback. But I think she liked me.

Then she went to college in Billings, I missed her every day she was gone and she rarely came home because of the distance. I had been promoted to donut fryer at Safeway. Every morning while frosting the maple bars, I was afraid that she would be romanced away. But we made it work.

The next year, she transferred to the University of Montana and we saw each other on the weekends for a couple of years. I looked forward to seeing her every weekend. The drives to Missoula seemed to take forever, and the weekends flew by. When she drove to Helena, she could not arrive soon enough. During that time I had moved up in the world and was now working at Morning Light Coffee and fishing every day. One day I was kind of bored, so on my home I stopped and bought a wedding ring. I couldn’t wait for her to come home so I could give it to her. It was nothing fancy, after all our relationship was built on love (and I didn’t make much money serving lattes). Much to her parents chagrin she said yes. We got married on 22 August, 1998 and I have not had a single regret.

Every relationship has a one that reaches and one that settles. I am clearly the reacher and appreciate Emily for settling on me.


Happy 12th Anniversary Emily

A Tale of Epic Romance: Part 1

Today I would like to tell a story about a woman who changed my life. Her name is Emily, but not the Emily I married. One day when I was in the 7th Grade, Emily approached me and said that there was a 6th grade girl that she rode the bus with and she thought that I would like her. So the next day she introduced me to a girl named Emily. Based on a two minute discussion with Emily, I decided I liked her (probably based on hormones, how much can you learn about a 6th grade girl in two minutes), so I asked her to be my girlfriend and of course she said yes. As I look back to 1989/90 about all a 13 year old could do was exchange notes and talk for endless hours on the phone. She even came to my 14th birthday party. So that is what we did……until one fateful day, Emily broke my heart.

She called me on the phone; after all, that is what we did. She told me that she had met another guy and wanted to be his girlfriend, however, if he declined she still wanted to be my girlfriend. I was devastated. As I held back my tears and tried to quell the pain in my chest, I told her that she had already made her choice and that I would not be a contingency plan. And that was it.
The year was 1992, it was the first day of my sophomore year at Helena High. I was walking down the hall to class when I saw a beautiful girl. She was smartly dressed and her blue eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights of the hallway as she looked at her class schedule. The look on her face clearly indicated that she was stressed. I approached the beautiful freshman and putting away the hurt which had scarred me for years I asked “Hi Emily, do you need some help.” Emily stated “yes, I do not know where this room is.” So I walked her to the classroom and bid adieu. For several years I desperately wanted to ask her out, however, I could not get past the pain of the last time. Trust is a difficult thing to repair once it has been broken.

True Hardship

The past few weeks have been interesting. It started off with a housemate plugging my XBOX 360 directly into the wall, frying the power pack. Then a plane with 152 people crashed into a mountain less than a mile from my house. Then the flooding started that displaced ½ a million people with thousands missing and dead. What next, locusts? No, the worst possible scenario…..my laptop died. After spending an hour on the phone with a guy from India (should have been a local call), he determined that the motherboard was shot and it would cost $400 to repair. A new one is cheaper than that. But I will have it fixed.

I know that the floods and plane crash pale in comparison to the suffering I have to endure by going one month or more without a computer at home (not my real home, my Pakistan home which I liket to refer to as my "Time Share"). Please don’t worry too much, I will overcome. I hope that in the end it makes me a stronger more resilient person.

In the mean time I will be limited to my iPod and 40” flat screen for entertainment. The only thing else that could go wrong is that my blackberry goes down. I know that many of you cannot even to begin to understand the hardships I am currently enduring and you may be spending a large amount of time wondering what you can do to alleviate some of the discomfort. However, I fear that there is nothing anyone can do to help me through this phase. Well, maybe Hot Tamales and Mike and Ikes.

Brent

Another Day in Paradise

At the time of writing, I am sitting at my borrowed desk in the U.S. Embassy fulfilling my official duty as “the guy that does stuff.” Technically I am doing stuff. Although this is an odd deployment, I am in Islamabad, Pakistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom it is a satisfying feeling to serve a cause greater then oneself. Of course this comes with great personal sacrifice.

But there are few things more rewarding than knowing that not only are you needed, but that you are wanted and appreciated. Take today for instance, we have one scheduled meeting per week, it is on Saturday. Which rocks. Since I am “the guy that does stuff” I have been attending the meeting for the guys that I do stuff for while they are away.

After the boss got done putting out the information that was important to all of us, it was each of the sections turn to brief issues and projects. So there I sat taking notes when my actual supervisor got his turn and stated the following “I will be leaving tomorrow to go the Nellis, AFB and I have briefed Captain Irish on projects. Don’t expect him to be very proactive though.”

I don’t think that he realized that I was sitting right behind him because normally I wouldn't be, however, since I am doing another person's job that would attend, I was there. It was at that point that someone said “You know he is sitting right behind you.” Which everyone in the room seemed to know except him. He then said “What I mean is that he doesn’t know what he is doing…I mean he is …….” At that point it didn’t matter what he said and everyone was laughing.

Keep in mind, I have been here for one month (of which he was gone for two weeks) and I am doing two other peoples jobs, which take priority over whatever tasks he gives me. The look on my face must have been priceless.

Once again, there is nothing as satisfying as knowing that not only am I making a difference in this world, but that I am needed (which is established by the fact that I don’t have a permanent computer or desk) and that I am appreciated (based on today’s experience and yesterdays crappy Girl Scout Cookies).

Signed by,

“the guy that sits at many desks and does stuff”

Another Battle in Life

I have been in Islamabad for one month now and every day I am reminded of how great we have it in the U.S.A. The work is challenging, long, and mostly boring. There are more people then desks and we have to "hot desk" which means that if you leave for five minutes, you had better save what ever you were doing because someone will restart the computer and go to work. One day I sat at three different desks.

In case you are wondering what my official title is, I am "the guy that sits at many desks and does stuff." It is both an honor and privilege to have that duty title. Nothing makes a person more proud to serve in Operation Enduring Freedom than hearing, "Hey Brent, I am tired of standing here and I need you to fax this to Pakistan Air Force Headquarters," and "I know that you just spend 3 hours working on that project and even though you burnt five bridges to get it done, we are going to scrap it." What can I say, "I am proud to serve."

But rather then bore you with "war stories" I would like to address a much more serious topic. Something that I believe affects hundreds of people, maybe even thousands of people. While this may seem somewhat petty to some please, don't judge unless you have worn the shoes. Today, someone received a package of girl scout cookies that were intended to boost moral. Instead it started a long and controversial debate, no doubt started by me. As many of you know, I live my life according to a number of steadfast rules and what happened today clearly violated one of them.

Today confirmed something that I have always believed to be true. In fact I believe that it is no longer a hypothesis, but rather it is a cold and hard fact; people care, however, most do not care enough to send the very best. "But they sent Girl Scout Cookies" that is so sweet. The issue was not that we were sent Girl Scout Cookies, but that we were sent the crappy varieties. In case you are wondering what the crappy varieties are, I will clarify that anything other then "Samoas, Thin Mints, or the chocolate covered peanut butter ones" are crap.

This was the basis of my argument: I am never given Samoas as a gift. Think about it, when was the last time that someone brought Thin Mints to the office? What about Samoas to a social gathering? Exactly, it is always those Lemon sandwich ones (which by the way had a recall this year, yet the ended up in Islamabad Pakistan today). Is it possible to make a terrible tasting shortbread cookie? Why yes it is, I ate some today and actually thought, "man, I didn't think anything could make Pakistan more miserable until now." Admittedly, I am a short bread snob and only Walker's Shortbread from Scotland will do, but come on man.

Once again no judgement until you have put on my custom made Pakistani Cobra cowboy boots.

While many thought it was a nice gesture, I stated "If they don't want this crap, why would I?" A perfectly good question. It was there that the debate began. At one point someone said "If they are so bad why are you eating them?" By the way, that had nothing to do with the argument. At one point somebody actually produced a box of Samoas and said "Look, I got Samoas." I said "Well every now and then someone wins the powerball and walks away with hundreds of millions, but most people lose." So the debate went on. Later that day while fulfilling my official title of the "guy that does stuff" I found the following information. A website that promotes the sales of the cookies in California, here is a snip from the bottom of the page:

Gift of Caring

Girl Scout cookies not only taste good -- they do good, too, thanks to our Gift of Caring community service project. In addition to buying cookies for yourself, you can purchase boxes and have them donated to the military to bring a taste of home to troops overseas, or to local food banks or the American Red Cross to bring cheer to victims of disaster or families in need.

Gift of Caring is simple: you purchase the gift receipt, and Girl Scouts will make sure your gift puts a smile on someone's face, whether they're far from home in Iraq or just around the corner.

This is purly Girl Scout propaganda designed to get rid of their crappy cookies. I am here to tell you, if you care and I mean really care, I want Samoas!!!!!

Aim High

I have been extremely busy lately, in fact, I am so busy that it barely felt like a 12.5 hour workday. We have been working hard trying to get the Pakistan Airforce to the United States for a large training exercise. My contribution is trying to save the tax payers tens of thousands of dollars, and if I fail at that then my job is to spend tens of thousands of taxpayer dollars. It is funny to work in an environment where you round off to the nearest million or hundred thousand dollars. Anyway, my latest trip took me on a Chinese made Y 12 air craft. The picture below is what you do when the air goes out on a plane. Instead of the little round air vents, some thrifty maintenance person put these fans in and then wired them to the no smoking/fasten seatbelt signs. Don't worry, my seat belt was fastened.

Also notice that the fan is not pointed at anyone. Oh and if you are not in the first row......sorry.

The Tsunami in Action

Since I am still trying to get my act together I thought I would post a quick video of the Tsunami.

Wait until they are teenagers and the three of them are going at it. Maybe I will be deployed to another exotic location.

a very short post

This is a very short post. There will be more soon, but for the last week I have been fighting an internal battle of epic proportions. A David and Goliath story of sorts, where a small intestine is fighting a much larger opponent, the large intestine. Unfortunately, the only winners of this battle so far are the people from Charmin Ultra, Wet Ones w/aloe, and various pharmaceutical companies. If you were wise, buy stock in these companies I still have eleven months to eat off of the economy. I am no longer running an uber-temperature and can actually sit upright for more then 10 minutes. I will write more later. Thank you for your patience.

The First Week, or was it one long day?

I have been in Pakistan for a little over a week, it feels like several months. Islamabad is an interesting city. I don’t know what I expected, but it has certainly exceeded all expectations that I had. My office is like a beehive, a classified, chaotic, crazy beehive. Only instead of producing honey we produce……not honey. I have adjusted well, while many of the people that arrived around the same time as I, have gotten the Pakistan poops. I continue to order out regularly and try new things and have had no issues. Additionally, I got the two hour crash course of driving on the right side car on the left side of the road in a city where traffic laws are more of a suggestion then a rule.

Take the traffic circle for example. You go around in a clockwise fashion and you turn when you get to your street. Take a traffic circle with three lanes; you would think that it would be intuitive to use the outside lane to turn out of, not in Pakistan. Below is an illustration. I am the red line, trying to stay in my lane. The black lines are everyone else. Remember, we are going in a clockwise motion to get to our turns. Notice how the arrows go in every direction at once and nobody is driving in the 12-3 o'clock area. They take the most direct route which includes the inside lane directly out.

This particular traffic circle requires a special driving style. Close your eyes and punch the gas, hoping that you don’t get t-boned. Seriously, I left my eyes opened and I screamed. I had to recreate the "down with USA" Jersey Barrier because it is hard to drive and take pictures with my eyes closed. Of course the Simon-David is not the center of the circle, but I think it should be.

In addition crazy circles, there a ton of check points in the city which cause major jams, nothing like 5 lanes turning into one. Once again, common courtesy and traffic laws are optional at this point. Additionally, I find if particularly fun to have machine guns pointed at me while they search my trunk. Once the trunk is close it is time to go, but wait, you must look to the left and right because the motorcycles whip around. Take the following picture, when I scanned it and sent it to e-mail it sent black and white, but I think you get the point.

Nothing Like a family outing to the Dairy Queen.

They tell us to take a different route to and from work each day, varrying the times of arrival. This helps prevent setting patterns which make us easy to kill. While I think it is a great theory, I don't think it goes beyond that. Unfortunately I do not have my ODHSGPS because it is only compatible with left hand drive. Besides, I get lost so much no one could ever establish a pattern.

The nice thing about my job and the city is that you must keep moving, much like the lizard that lives inside my house. We made eye contact and then he ran up the wall and behind the curtain. I hope he eats some of the bugs that will potentially give me malaria. Not that I am concerned about malaria. No I am concerned about skin cancer since the medication I am to prevent malaria causes easy burning.

My next post will focus on my house and living conditions. Stay tuned.

Tough and Unforgiving

My wife is a wonderful woman. She has been referred to as tough and unforgiving (you probably thought I was talking about Islamabad). She actually liked that designation. Within 24 hours of giving birth to a 9lb 8oz baby she drove herself home from the hospital. Someone from church actually said that if we ever had to cross the plains with handcarts he would want her in his group.

I simply describe her as stubborn. It is possible that she is the most stubborn person in the world. I run a close second, only because I ultimately succumb to her stubbornness. My current dilemma is that I am a long ways away and I noticed that I have very few pictures of her. I have thousands of the kids and dog. The source of the problem is that she never stops moving. Seriously, perpetual motion, if I could find a way to tap that energy I could solve the world’s energy crisis and be a millionaire.

That would be cool. But it still does not solve my picture problems. Since I can’t afford those high speed cameras that allow people to photograph a frogs tongue grabbing an insect or a bullet flying through the air I will continue to be picture deficient. Vance loves to take pictures so I told Emily that she could occupy him with picture duty and she could sit still while he snapped photos. I thought it sounded great, but she is stubborn, so all I get are the memories in my mind. These are fading fast due to my current work environment.

I love you Emily and I miss you dearly. Unlike many men, I actually enjoy monogamy and family life. So this song is dedicated to you. Maybe it will inspire you to introduce beauty into my not so beautiful existence here in Islamabad.

Welcome to Islamabad?!?!?!?!?

I don't even know where to start. This will be a relatively short post, not because of a lack of excitement, but rather way to much. All I can say is welcome to Islamabad, Pakistan. Between the 9 hour time change and the 12-15 hour work days I am going to limit posts to once or twice a week. I also plan on maintaining a bike theme by living vicariously through others. You will see what I mean. I also plan on showing a crazy picture each time. Trust me, there will be more than enough. I am going to bed.

I Am the Butterfly

I apologize for the animosity towards butterflies. I was suffering from sleep deprivation and that sort of anger directed at any of God's creatures is truly unwarranted under any circumstance. That being said the butterfly is an essential piece to the chaos theory and as it turns out, so am I. Could it be that I am a butterfly? Not one of those fru fru ones, but one with a menacing pattern that looks like a face or skull or something….menacing.

Yesterday I boarded a flight to Dubai and experienced something that I have never experienced before. The flight had about 250 people on it; the majority looked like they were from India based on their attire. But since I am not an expert I will base my assumption on that. The bottom line is that they clearly do not abide by the rules that the majority of Americans hold to be both true and sacred. Boarding the plane was a nightmare based on the fact that most could not reach the over head bin and had to step on the seats to put their stuff away (multiplied times a couple of hundred). Of course the standard government fare put in the very back of the plane and when I got to my seat someone was sitting in it. I am a nice guy, well I did a nice thing one time, but considering I was about to embark on a 13 hour nonstop flight, I was pretty serious about having my aisle seat so I could stand and stretch from time to time.

The man stood up, to about my waist, and said in broken English "we trade you sit there." He then pointed to the middle section where there was an empty seat with 2 or so people to either side. I said "You short, I tall, get out of my seat." He didn't take me seriously so I took my hat of displaying my cleanly shorn scalp and I said "I want my seat." This time I remembered the key to international communication, speak really slowly and loud. The problem was that the men on the flight insisted on sitting with their women, but like all airlines, they are not necessarily booked that way. So he moved and began bargaining. At some point some guy moved so they could sit together and it was at that point that I noticed the majority of the people were trying to do the same. It was nuts.

The flight attendants were working hard to get people to sit, as they would get one, two more would get up and move around. It came to one man who refused to sit unless his wife was next to him. The flight attendants politely asked the man to sit and stated that they would sort it out once we go into the air and that it was necessary for the flight to take off. The man refused.

I became the butterfly (menaced of course) and flapped my mighty wings. I wish it had looked that cool, however, I don't know how to describe what happened, or exactly what I said. Imagine if you will, a 6'3" man weighing in at 225 pounds with a freshly shaved head standing up in an airplane and going berserk. Well, that was me I got up and yelled "for the love of everything holy, everybody sits down. I will give you my seat if you will just sit down." A hush came across the plane, everyone sat….and stared. It was silent; I grabbed my stuff and crawled across two people to my new seat.

What happened next is almost unbelievable; a flight attendant approached me and said she owed me a drink. While I don't drink I was just glad they didn't kick me off. Then another attendant approached and said that after the seatbelt sign went off that I could move to an empty aisle seat a couple of rows forward. As the plane began to taxi on the runway and take off people got up and started moving around again and someone moved to my soon to be seat. This was insanity and I would have 13 hours in my sub-compact seat.

Once we were in the air a woman approached me and said "I need to speak with you privately in the back." So I crawled to the aisle and went to the back where I figured an air marshal was waiting for me. When I got there, the flight attendant said "We appreciate what you did for us, my girlfriend spoke to the boss and we scored you a seat in 1^st class." That was the last thing I expected from freaking out on an airplane.

I was a hero, when I got to my new super huge seat that reclined and had massive amounts of room I nearly cried. An older flight attendant who I assume was the head person said "we appreciate what you did, what can I get you to drink." She even gave me the whole can of tonic water. The ladies from the back periodically checked up on me.

Much like the butterfly, I have the ability to set things in motion and while my outbursts usually end in chaos, this ended up in a nice chair with free comfort socks and a delicious meal. They even had all you could eat Walker's Shortbread in the hard to find variety with chocolate chips.

I am the butterfly! (Queue menacing tune).

The Butterfly Effect

Ok, so I didn't make it very far today. Appearently a butterfly flapped its wings at a small island in the South Atlantic and it caused a major storm in Chicago. That in turn caused a delay in flights to Atlanta, which in turn caused a delay to everywhere in the world. I hate butterflies. The result for me was that I missed my flight by 20 minutes which cost me a day of travel and instead of wearing the same underwear for two days it will now be three plus. Freaking butterflies. I got off my plane at 10:30 p.m. and stood in a "customer service" line for two hours. I said I was going to Islamabad and the woman did one of those "yeahhhhhh" things which are never good. We sat for the next hour and when I say sat I mean that she sat and I stood, trying to figure it out. Then she would say things like "well if we do this, it would put in Istanbul at….." To which I would reply "I am not going to Istanbul." She would then let out one of those long ominous "hhhhhhmmmmm" sounds. At that point I just said put me on the day after flight and I will be fine, then all of a sudden it worked, sort of. It appears that my long held suspicions are true, that the airlines are like insurance companies and are full of ways to make your life miserable and that they also have loopholes. They are also affected by butterflies, flipping butterflies…I hate them.

Turns out that even though the flight I was trying to get was overbooked and adding me overbooked it by one more there is a secret loophole. I am proudly releasing a secret industry secret. If you are booked for a seat that is booked already and you are the first to check in you get the seat. While this is clearly not as good as making the original flight, at least I am not some loser that may have to give up a seat on an overbooked flight.

I was however the loser that was standing (still) in the Dulles airport at 1:30 in the morning with a minor problem, because one of the connecting flights had to be released there was a mysterious problem with ticket issuance and I was told to see an "expert in the morning." I makes you wonder who I was talking to at 1:30 a.m. in the Dulles airport "customer service." I was hoping that by expert she meant that the person knew the difference between Istanbul and Islamabad. Because the delay was butterfly induced they would not spring for a room, besides, at 2 a.m. by the time I get to the room and get up at 4 a.m. to see the "expert" at 6:00 it would be more painful. I crashed in the D1 Gate waiting area and woke up several hours later to people staring at me. As I wiped the drool from my face, the airport person was announcing the boarding call for the flight to Chicago…… butterflies suck.

It begins!!!!

I was sitting in the Columbus, Georgia airport trying to figure out how I could spice up my blog. Then it occurred to me that if I added a post that might actually help. I will have plenty of opportunities to do this as I spend the next two days traveling from one hot place to another. The amazing thing is that I will be leaving one hot place where I cannot understand what anyone is saying (Columbus) to go to another hot place where I cannot understand anyone (Pakistan). Even more amazing is that being a former British colony (both of them by the way) I expect the English spoken in Pakistan to be much more understandable than that of Columbus, Georgia. In addition I have started my malaria medication which states on the bottle that I should avoid direct sunlight.

Another bonus to easier communication is that I get to wear the same clothes for two days. Who doesn’t love that? I also got an e-mail from the person picking me up once I am half way around the world. He stated that I would get an opportunity to get cleaned up and change before we go to work. Wow, imagine 38 hours of travel, 9 hours time difference and I get to go to work as soon as I change my two day old underwear! I am trying to come up with a catch phrase that I can apply to situations like this. Super, oh joy, why not? If you can come up with something let me know I have a feeling I will be using that phrase a lot this year.

The next task will be to work out the bicycle situation. I will report back once I get my life in order.

Father and Son

I would like to present you with the following photos. Friday night, Vance and I participated in a Father/Son Camp out. This is part one of a two part series. Vance is fond of photography and he stole my camera while I was sleeping. Yes, I let my son run around unattended while I napped. It was not intentional and the river was several yards away so I didn't have to worry about that. Anyway, he stole my camera out of the case on my belt and began a career as a photojournalist. I would like to explain the pictures, but I can't, even with my mad Art Appreciation Skillz from Carroll College I am at a stupor. Enjoy.

Here is the case on my belt, notice there is no camera.



Vance was very proud of this one, he asked me if I saw the picture of the people. Then he said it was a beautiful picture.




Me sleeping, thanks Vance!



When I woke up I looked out of the mesh window and Vance was standing there. I asked "what are you doing." He said, "I am peeing." Sure enough he was standing there trow down peeing on a tree. Good thing he didn't take a picture of that!

I am a proud father.

Purgatory

Well it is official, I am in Visa Purgatory. While I wait for my Official Passport to get stamped I am now working at Fort Belvoir. I am a couple hour drive from home, so I can visit on the weekends. In the mean time I am living in a much nicer room. Additionally, about 1 mile from my hotel there is a 15 mile bike path that starts at Mount Vernon, following the Potomac, ending by D.C. Pretty nice for a guy like me.

I sleep much better in this hotel. Check out the KING size bed. It also has a mix of pillows so I can choose my favorite firmness. I even brought my Salsa Las Cruces (for those that don't speak Spanish that translates to "THE Cruces"). If you can't have your family, you might as well have the most wonderful bicycle in the world.

It is a huge room and has a nice flat screen t.v. in the middle so it can swivel. The only problem is that my bike demanded the bed and I had to fold out the love seat bed. Then it occurred to me, sleep with the bike, either way I would have a bar in my back.

It is still less painful then Vance's elbows when he sneaks into our bed at night.

All was well until we started arguing about who got to hold the remote. I lost and we had to watch "Quick Silver" with Kevin Bacon.

Virtuous Friends

I had the opportunity to visit a friend, a great friend. I always believed that it was important to be around great people who would have a positive impact on my life. I always thought that greatness was equal to position, rank, or prominence. However, it was not until recently that I understood who “great” people are. The past few years I have felt a lot of loneliness, a personal isolation of sorts; a void, like an emotional black hole. I have never had many friends because I held certain beliefs that served as discriminators against people. Basically, if you had certain habits or qualities, I did not want to interact with certain people in any way other than a professional or minor social way. It was not that I was too good, I was just image conscience. The rank structure of the Army doesn’t help much either, as was the case with Alex.

However, after visiting Alex and his family this weekend I found that life experience has changed my views as to what constitutes "great." To begin with, Alex is a war buddy, the best kind of friend you can have. After all, we have been through some crap together. Friendship in the Army is tough. He was a subordinate (purely in rank only, as a person he is much better than I) and because of that it made it difficult to call him a “friend.” He was one hell of a Soldier and because of that we were always in the thick of it together and we have a bond; remember, always be surrounded with great people.

He is out of the Army now and I am proud to say we are friends. I wish that I could surround myself with more people like him. We stayed up late into the night talking about Mosul, Iraq and the Battle of Baghdad, as well as, the others we served with. Sure enough, every event he brought up, bad and good, we were there together at times right next to each other. We did a lot of laughing. Some things the average person, or mildly insane, would not laugh at; like the unique sound of brains sizzling as they dripped on the metal of a car after the fire had been put out and a friend of ours “Foots Mahoney” who I will not even begin to describe.

I was sad to leave since I do not have many friends and he is clearly one of the best. True friendship, since he knows the other side of me, and I of him. War changes people and the friendships that are developed are true friendships. I now truly understand Aristotle’s concept of virtuous friendship which is roughly “I will do for you for your sake, and you do for me for my sake.” We share common experiences that others have not and cannot even begin to understand.

Thank you Alex (and of course Megan for letting me invade your house) I feel as though some of the void has been filled. Most important of all, I am proud that he calls me a friend. I only wish we lived closer.

Ohio, need I say more.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to tour Ohio. While Ohio is one of the most populated and industrial states, it is also extremely flat and boring. Unless you like farmland and trees. I have forgotten how nice it is to travel without children. While I enjoy going places with my kids and seeing their eyes light up when they see something new and different, it is much more peaceful to go it alone. Anyone with kids knows exactly what I am talking about.

My trip began with the rental car, I violated my policy of driving something that had KIA (killed in action) on it and rented a Rio. Not only are KIA's surprisingly uncomfortable and really small, but they are absolutely the most gutless car in the world. I think I saw donkey carts in Iraq that accelerated faster. Anyhow, my destination was Toledo to visit a friend of mine. So I punched the address into the On Dash High Speed GPS (ODHSGPS). Hey, I am in the Army, everything has to be an acronym.

ODHSGPS. Come on, its a KIA Rio!

I cranked up my Electronica/Trance favorites (OK, I just came out, I like Electronica/Trance like Moby, Gabriel and Dresden, Armin Van Burren.....) and I hit the road determined to see all that the area had to offer. I was not disappointed, for the most part. It also turns out that Ohio is the unofficial official bicycle capital of America. Being the history buff that I am, I quickly discovered that Dayton, Ohio was home to Huffy Bicycles, possibly the worlds greatest bikes. With commercials like those, it is a wonder that Huffy ever had problems.

Bicycling was so popular in Dayton that the Wright Brothers built four bike shops and used their money and bicycle experience in the development of the first powered flight. I saw a sign that directed me to one of their shops. It was surprisingly boring. Seriously. But I took a picture anyway.

Boring!!!!!!

Unlike some people, probably most, I like to drive and see where the road takes me. Well it took me into a not so nice part of Dayton. While searching for the interstate on my ODHSGPS I encountered an area that would frighten the average person, but being slightly above average and having a very strict policy on crying (I was in a Rio not the shower) I punched the accelerator and nothing happened (I was in a Rio).

Once back on the interstate I headed north. At one point I got so bored I started counting grain elevators. Boring!!!!! Then I saw a sign pointing out the Bicycle Museum of America. Not having a kids or wife I made the turn and drove thirteen miles off of the interstate to New Bremen, Ohio. This museum was pretty cool, the guy who owns it bought out Schwinn's collection when they went out of business.

I also got the opportunity to eat a Tony Packo's, a Toledo specialty.

The return trip was equally uneventful. My ODHSGPS works just as well going the other way.

There was only one major issue that left me unsatisfied. I kept seeing advertisements on Billboards for a special beverage, yet when I stopped at convenience stores and asked, they looked at me funny.