At the command picnic a few weeks ago, as I stood in line with the sproglets so they could nosh some nasty corpse and slimy potatoes (read: picnic fare), some fucklechuck stood behind me and wanked endlessly about his job. Not smart, since he dropped more than enough info to let me know he's one of YodaMan's guys. I, being a complete snatch, of course relayed what I had heard to the darling husband, who responded with ORLY? Complete with raised eyebrows. Lesson: Do not bitch about your job and how you're so much better than everyone else and how you are too smart to work as a monkey pulling wire when you're at a picnic with who knows who the hell standing right there.
I had a FB page. It disappeared. I have recreated it. I don't know why. It gets no traffic, and I'm rarely on FB. But there you go.
Mastectomies are horrifying. I feel so bad for those who've had to have them. I figured they were unpleasant, but Jesus Crispy Christ. This shit is insane.
Speaking of religion, I'm officiating my first wedding. NEXT MONTH. I have no fucking clue what to expect, but the happy couple want it to be blot-like. That'll be awesome since the closest I've come to a blot is the oracular seidh at PantheaCon. Time to hit the books!
Speaking of books, the husband and I have been making plans for retirement in t minus three years. Woo to the motherfucking hoo! I'm so excited. YodaMan mentioned going back to Atlanta, where we met in college. I'm totally down. In fact, I'd like to get my PhD and get my academic on. That would fucking rock. The sad part, of course, would be giving up this blog. I'd really have nothing to wank about since we'd be freeeee of the Navy, and in all likelihood won't even have any of the supposed retirement benefits he signed up to receive when he commissioned lo seventeen years ago.
Speaking of seventeen years, holy fuckballs, I'm old.
This blog is here for me to vent my frustration, usually at the Navy (since they're SO good at pissing me off). If you have a hankering for the dulcet posts of a June Cleaver Navy Wife, you're in the wrong place. If you dislike whining and snarking, hit your Back button now. Otherwise, welcome! Join the snarkfest and vent your angst.