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Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Jim Beaver meets childlike officer....calls him "sir" ROFLMAO

Dammit Jim Beaver,
You called him WHAT!?  *snortle*
I saw a kid in line for his gear and couldn't resist...he invited me to let him have it with a blush.
And I was THAT short and couldn't resist asking the child-like officer ...
"Son, does your mother know you ran off and joined the Navy?"

I'm laughing cuz he activated my condition and I'd blogged about my short-timer's disease in the parachute shop.  I was making flight badges and passing out flight gear AFTER dropping the ex off at the Forrestfire during workups every morning and mostly avoided news cameras when I picked him up.  If Mother carried me like I carried my daughter, she probably didn't show for awhile.  I did step aerobics without the stepper until the end of my second trimester when my schedule changed.  Only the instructor knew I was expecting, since I'd only gotten thick and appeared to be failing the class.  My last day in the service was 1/17/91, Ben Franklin's birthday.  A running joke in my family was how messed up it was to name my brother Vincent DePaul when he was born on a hedonist's birthday.  I was checking out, when all hell was breaking loose.
 
They called the Gulf Mess part one cease-fire while BB1 arrived on Feb 27th and he pulled in on Valentine's Day.  Before that, I didn't now if he was going to be there to coach me through it or not.  Dad refused to fill in because he wasn't birthin' no mo babies after Guam's baby-boom during Korea.  I'd woken up with contractions that day and broke my water right after he went to work.  This time it wasn't a false alarm and we knew the baby would be huge by then.  We counted it back to nearly the day he returned from sea and we'd decided to try again after the miscarriage.


So now he done did it.   
(mood = watching Super Troopers)
(via class of '83 Levittown@Belair)

During the DADT days at the butt end of my tour o' waste my child-bearing years,
folks knew better than to ask me, cuz I wasn't tellin'.....
unless justice/hilarity or extreme case of CYA was at stake, naturally.
We were not newb to dealing with class warfare and intellectual differences and how to deal with them.  Many of our supervisors joined the Navy to avoid poverty or prison.  Most of their sea stories involved where they'd gotten drunk and passed out.  We had two guy's nicknamed "Bump" and "Speed Bump" after falling into the streets where little European cars could run them over without hurting them much.

(Houdini Garnett, KS 1896 after his mother's death) 
After Super Troopers, the History Channel played a new show about Houdini.  I was a HUGE fan of his growing up.
If it were a secret everybody knew....like No Such Agency's transition to No Secret Anymore
again, no harm no foul.  And it's no secret people simply can't handle the truth, especially when it's THAT lame.  Dad most definitely sent out mixed signals.  He rolled up to Levittown in a VW Bug and a VW Squareback.  He said the bug was a college man's best friend.  I hoped to have one when I went to college....even if he rated a Karma Ghia.

I truly felt bad for Dad when the lameness set in.
The cheats set in his day were lame enough.
Sure, he could have remained Baptist, but his mother was fine when he chose to be Roman Catholic....still in cult status.  I recall a stink about mass being given in English instead of Latin.

He explained the health care dodge when I first saw "The Bishop's Wife".
The Church couldn't afford to cover Catholic families....set on perpetual "Go forth and multiply".


The bullied fringe were my folks.  "She's kewl, she's 'family'." made me blush.
My ex-to be was on and off the USS Forrestfire on workups.
I spent part of my wimp duty days (3rd trimester) in VP-30s parachute shop....deciding what to name "BB1".  My ex and I were making the "bucket list" of the things we'd do once we were free.  I'd finish my degree and he was gonna be an architect when he grew up.
CAD+Networking=virtual world 3D social network
That's what I had in mind for the flight simulator software I'd never see considering my billet.  I wasn't likely to pilot anything but a golf cart due to my O-level maintenance rating.  I wanted I-level (circuit board)
My Nav-Comm C-school locked me to the flight-line.
So, it was my second try, and I'd been stopped in the I-95 dead zone between Miami and Jax, FL for passing people going 50 in the 70 zone.
I think it was near the Jupiter or Sanford exits but the fool pulled me over just short of the exit for the gas station I needed because the '83 Mustang GT5.0 (POS pall and quadrant) was burning oil again.
 
I'd even stood captain's mast for not taking the PO2 test.  They made me take it and I think I PNA'd it by drawing a Xmas tree.
The fuzziest rat's ass couldn't have swayed me to stay in during Gulf Mess part 1..or EVER again. Since my ex was up for shore duty and outranked me, I would have been a landlubber for another 4 years.  I opted to get out for the 'convenience of the Navy'.
*cough, wheeze*
With no certs or clearances (9/87 to 1/91) FAA wasn't an option because they wanted to keep us nice and cheap-like. 
(Marxism cough)
Suffice it to say, I had serious short-timer's disease and my skates were in prime condition.  The ovarian fortitude of the PO1 in charge was impressive.  I don't know what they told the Muslim pilots in that hour, but after refusing to take instruction from a woman, they were calling ME "Ma'am" as well.  I couldn't talk them out of it.  Dad was a 'sir', I was PISSED!