You're talking about the innuendo, of course. Not the "madly, passionately and utterly in love with" thinig...
Because no way are you going to stop that.:no:
Happily old balls of the college student world currently. June 1986.
Back on topic, stay safe Phaed. You truly have a gift with writing, and your jack of all trades life sounds like heaven to someone deathly afraid of getting stuck behind a desk for the rest of my life!
I discovered Phaedrus when reading "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". And I agree with Robert Pirsig in that Socrates misrepresented the Sophists.
Facts do not represent Truth, Progress does not automatically mean Good, and Science may work, but it's not Sufficient. Of course, to deny Facts, Progress and Science is also folly. But people prefer to oppose (and embrace) simplicity, not complexity, so the natural order of things is to create straw man out of those with whom you disagree.
Huh. Short question, long answer. If you REALLY want to dive into this stuff, surf on over to another friend of mine's web-site and meet Dr. Marc Tyrell, who is a Symbolic Anthropologist from Ottawa.
Glad to see that the "military" world has upgraded their equipment. The tactical vest rocks! Sure beats the "LBE" from my days in uniform. Am I really that old? :wideeyed:
Thanks for the posts. Great reading (still love the military history and such)!
By the way, out of curiosity, may I ask what the sidearm and rifle are that you are carrying (if it is not sensitive information)?
It was fun seeing both sides. Then I joined the 734th Maintenance BN, and they were preparing to field SINCGARS. Blows me away.
But we still run M4s and M9s. Though my M9 is anodized green, instead of the blue-black that I'm used to. I really, really wished we were running Glock 19s, though. A much better pistol than the M9.
If I had my druthers, I'd either run an M1911 or a Glock. Those are the two pistols I shoot the best.
Phaedrus, you should seek syndication. Seriously. You write extremely well, and have an awesome story to tell.
So, this morning I awoke to see a beautiful coat of barf all over the ground, here in lovely Afghanistan. Walking to breakfast, I got barf all over my hat, and my coat, and my boots were fully coated with barf, as well. Later on, when I worked out, my running shoes became "barf-logged," which was quite uncomfortable.
What is this "barf" I speak of, you may ask? Well, due to some diligent research on my part, I found an on-line Dari dictionary, and discovereed that the word for snow, is "barf". I find it semi-hilarious that the juvenile term for vomit is the same word for snow. But then, I never did fully grow up.
I had my first full night of sleep last night, and feel tremendously well. My alimentary system has also adjusted to the strange new foods I am forcing through it, and that helps quite a bit. I still get strange looks from my non-Nepalese/Afghan co-workers, when I tuck hungrily into a plate of vegetable curry, boiled mutton or Dal. We had bits of mystery meat, yesterday that was served on the Nepalese version of Nan, a type of flat-bread. It came to the table, still sizzling, and even the pickiest eater (surprisingly, most of the guys and gals at our camp are very picky eaters) enjoyed it.
Which begs the question: How do you spend a career as a military contractor, living and working in some of the most remote places on the planet, and be a picky eater? Myself, I don't bungee jump or sky dive, but if it's strange and edible, it's in my mouth. I love discovering new kinds of food. I guess it's a by-product of growing up in Northwest Iowa, in a German/Scandinavian culture where the most common seasoning is "bland" and "overcooked."
One thing, though; you need to like oily food to get along, here. Luckily, I work out a bit, or I'd be ballooning up, quickly. Since I've lost a ton of weight since 2005, I surely hope I do not return to being a butterball. Breakfast normally consists of liver sausage boiled in oil, and/or English style bacon (thick cut and soft, instead of crispy), oatmeal, potatoes and exotic mixed fruit. We have a macchiato machine, which I adore. Middle Eastern coffee is to die for. Kofe is an Arabic word, after all.
I got up extra early this morning and washed my clothes. We employ several Afghan women at our camp, to do cleaning and laundry, but they take too long to the laundry back to me, so I need to sneak around to get it done, or risk being scolded. And trust me, an Afghan woman knows how to scold. Well, I used an Afghan brand of soap, which kind of made the eyes water, but the black long-sleeved underarmor shirt I work out in actually smells clean.
At my prior job, my commute was excessively long, so I had an apartment there, and never brought this shirt home, so I was always washing it myself, and it was always stinky, even after washing. But whatever is in this mystery soap, gets the smell right out of it. I imagine it is some nasty material that is not EPA compliant, but they don't particularly care about that, here.
Well, I had a colleague take a picture of yesterday's feast. I'm off to his office to get it on my memory stick, and hopefully, I can post it, here.
Anything has to be better than the "LBE" in my opinion!
What a coincidence! I saw a pile of barf in the parking lot at HuHot tonight, and you could tell it was from HuHot because of all the noodles. But I went in and ate anyways. Also, I almost stepped in it.