As the World Turns: So Are the Days of My Life

I am not one to take a calendar and cross out days. There are several reasons for this, the main one is that as time goes on I change the criteria by which I determine the end of a day. You would think that it would be fairly clear cut; Midnight is the end of one day and the beginning of the next. It is not that easy. You may wait until the morning when you wake up to cross out the day before? Or maybe you look forward to crossing out the day just before bed, satisfied that you have won the battle. Or maybe you are like me and consider the day over the moment the work ends. For instance, if I have something that takes me late into the night and into the next day, I don’t like to cross off the day because it is not really over.

Using the same logic, some days end early when I say “to heck with it” and throw in the towel. But that only works if I am not stuck at the office because I cannot actually go home at 10:15 a.m. when the towel is thrown. The best solution I have is an excel worksheet someone created titled “the Circle of Freedom.” This is an up to the day, second by second tracking device. If there is any question as to how long I have been here, I press F9. While it may seem that looking at time served by seconds may not seem like the best way to see time go by it is better than trying to decide when the day ends, especially this week, it could be just one long day.

Movember

A group of my friends and I were eating lunch on a mid-October day when I mentioned that we were rapidly approaching “Movember.” I have a reputation of being a prankster and making up random facts about history, so everyone quickly wrote me off. Later that day I sent them a link to the Movember website. The only problem is that mustaches are not held in high regard in the Air Force or Army; I am not sure about the Navy, but I don’t think anyone really is sure about the Navy. We agreed that we would all grow mustaches even if it meant dealing with prejudice in the form of supervisors harasing us about being out of regulation.

It was an instant success, with local Pakistanis and throughout the U.S. Embassy (at least at our level). In fact I think it actually boosted productivity. One of the participants G-Money (not his real name) stated that he actually looked forward to coming to work for once so he could see the progress. He then stated “Movember is the best idea we have had.” He even mentioned the utility of the mustache; it is something to fiddle with during long meetings. People I barely knew would say things like “hey, nice Movember” or “You are very handsome” (which was definitely due to the mustache, since I am not normally handsome).

I finally got my computer back from HP and went online to skype. Vance could hardly contain himself, he laughed and asked if I bought my "mushmash" or if I grew it. Which is a legitimate question in the region of the world where the fake mustache is an integral part of Bollywood.

One of the best highlights of Movember was the day that Billy (not his real name) was walking through the security check point. It is manned by Pakistani guards, many of who speak broken English. “Billy” was walking through the checkpoint when he noticed an article of interest in a newspaper sitting on a counter top. He stopped briefly to read it. He was suddenly drawn out of the article; he thought he heard someone say “Movember.” It was early in the morning and he knew he was the only American in the room. He turned around and the guard, who could barely speak English, was smiling and others were laughing at the new addition to his vocabulary. “Billy” even kept his through the middle of December so he could show his wife during Rest and Recuperation leave. Though I believe he had to dry shave in the airport as soon as she saw it.

The best thing about being in an organization that frowns upon facial hair is that it is obvious and leads to a very important question, “WHY?” Especially when we are clearly in violation of grooming standards (a mustache cannot extend past the corners of the mouth). This no doubt opened the door for the real message, cancer awareness. Many of the local Pakistanis we interact with regularly took notice and always commented on our mustaches (it is a cultural thing) and frequently would ask the question, which got the same explanation, awareness.

Although we had to keep them as close to tolerance as possible, in the end it boosted moral and awareness as we slug away through a year of monotony and frustration.

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.