[deep inside]

lately, i've been dwelling on what has occurred in my life these past couple of years; i'm surrounded by taunting memories whether it was good or not. the mind exercise vigorously to adjust and adapt to new environments to keep sanity in check. i've learned that my body can adjust and adapt to any kind of predicament, but my mind tends to wonders in the same ol' places. i have a annoying tendency to go back to things that reminds me of painful yet bitter sweet memories. i enjoy it in a sick sort of way. stressing over unspoken memories is merely a fixation, but leaving the past behind and living by moments instead of living by days; now there is something we all need swimming through our vains.

Currently Listening It Won't Be Soon Before Long By Maroon 5 Nothing lasts forever see related

investing in the other sex.

as a part of a life's cycle and for the sake of reproduction, we as humans tend to sniff around and dig out the treasures that are buried in the soils of our social networks; "the perfect mate". when will we ever come to a complete understanding that there isn't Mr. rights or dime piece house presentables. they don't exist -sorry for busting your bubbles but honestly, slap your self. Like everyone else, i have tested the waters, been on countless amount of dates, and been in relationships that seemed stable; until of course we tore each other apart emotionally, and sometimes physically at times until our arms gave out trying to fan the dying fire wood. One thing I did realize is that i'm not my self after the 4th month. i'm who that significant other created! i even lost my name and  became "baby, honey, and sweety". for example, i grew out my hair, wanted to do something different with my looks, treated my self to a change. i get - "aww baby, i don't like your hair long, you look messy. cut it short and dye it! it'll be nice, it's hot anyway teehee~*." so then i reply - "uhhhh DdeeEeee! oooooOOookkkk derr~*". "honey! i got you a gift! try it on :), it's a button down and i thought it looked sSssooooooooo cute! it was on sale! you bettttterr where it out everywhere~! teeeheeeeeeee."  "uuuhhhh DddDeeee! OooOookkkk derrr~*". "sweeeeeeeeety~! you HAVE to go to church this weekend! my parents want to seeeee youuuu~ teehee don't forget to cut your hair, dye it, and wear the shirt i got youuuu! TEEEHEEEEEE i loooveeee youuuuu~*****" "uhhhhh DdeEeee! oooooOOokkk derrr~*". i then had to cut off my patiently grown hair, conditioning, and using expensive hair products to make it shine, wore the white pin striped button down shirt that probably cost about 15$ at tj max at the recall section, and  i'm attending church to see her strict, korean church going parents. i hate korean churches. of course this is a total exaggeration of what really occurred i don't speak retard but in the end, i was someone else; that person i was looking at in the mirror was not me. this girl created me into someone she unintentionally formed in her head; for the rest of my dear life it echoes through my hollow mind. so i really liked this girl, invested so much time, effort, and money, and not to mention my identity. she brought out a kid in me, a every day was a reoccurring crush. she had beautiful, hypnotic eyes and was well shaped all around, and knew how to talk to men and take care of them; especially hers. what can i ask more of her? she sure asked for more. couple of months pass and she got everything she ever dreamt of, or at least of what she imagined in her head. she wanted to have a talk so we met at our favorite spot. she was waiting by the swings and i sit down next to her with the button down shirt, and my short dyed hair. she says "i love you, but i think we should break up." so then i get mad and reply "what?! i did whatever you wanted, gave you my world, and you're breaking up with me?!" she says "yea, you've changeddddd." ?

yes, men are easily tamed if females work it right, timing need to be proficient and precise. I hear it takes a decade of practice and hard work.

you're playing needle in a haystack if you're trying to find that person whose already molded into someone who you truly desire. someone probably already got to them. so i'm noting to my self. i am not going into a serious relationship until i find my self first. i have to be accomplished, and secured. i must have at least 3 hobbies that i love. i must have certain preferences in girls before dating them, not anyone who wants to. i must distance my self from fobs because fobs and americanized souls mix like oil and water. haha. remember ladies and genitals! 50/50!! push when you have to and pull back when you're too much. life works in checks and balances~ even in the bank  .

--- stolen

Giant Lego man washed up on Dutch beach

Posted Wed Aug 8, 2007 6:03am AEST

A giant, smiling Lego man has been fished out of the sea in the Dutch resort of Zandvoort.

Workers at a drinks stall rescued the 2.5-metre tall model, which had a yellow head and blue torso.

"We saw something bobbing about in the sea and we decided to take it out of the water," said a stall worker. "It was a life-sized Lego toy."

A woman nearby added: "I saw the Lego toy floating towards the beach from the direction of England."

The toy was later placed in front of the drinks stall.

-Reuters

that's cool. i wanna throw something huge into the ocean and see where it ends up. something real scandalous. something that has even a deeper meaning that this. 

 it's 6:00pm. the sky is vanilla with a hint of maroon rays caressing the falling sun. Cold light winds dancing around the trees, teasing the lifeless leaves hanging by its' stems. The street is occupied by a old couple walking slow enjoying the cool weather, some are sweeping the dead leaves in front of their apartments, a jogger with her dog merely jogging, parked cars, and some birds chirping and flying over head. My throat is soar and my body's aching. I put my hood on from my sweat shirt, turn off the ipod, and take out my cell phone to make a call. I clear my throat. It's ringing but there is no answer; no preset voice mail box. "you have reached 9.. 1.. 7.. * *... , please leave a message after the tone and if you are finished recording... *" I hang up feeling disappointed. Why am I disappointed? Who did I just call? I lean on the brick wall of the apartment and look at my cell phone. I feel warm yet so cold; my heart pumps calmly yet anxiously. I'm alone.

A sudden sonic boom tears the sky. I recognize that noise from anywhere. Been stationed in Khalaydia, Iraq, our compound was hit by mortars and artillery rounds 4 to 6 times a week. I look up in a shift and alerted manor. I see a missile? trailed by a white streak cutting through the red sky. The missile explodes mid air and lets off a thick gas like substance. The black gas travels like a calm wave you see in an undisturbed ocean. Looks erie like a ghost like figure it flows through the air. I stare at it in awe, trying to figure out what it could be, who fired a dud missile into New York City, and why the gas like substance isn't evaporating. I take a look around my surroundings. The old couple and the jogger was long gone, the residents were inside their apartments. Not even the birds are around anymore. The street became baron. No sign of life anywhere accept for the flashing reflection of the TV from the window of this apartment, and the wind that doesn't seem to be uneased by the missile and the black smog. This is uncomfortable. I hear the in the distance. I feel it in my gut; or is that the ground trembling so lightly it's barely noticeable. The people inside this apartment are saying something. shhh I hear a little girl crying, she seems worried about the conversation that her parents are having. I can't really hear anything. The door slams open and a young man, aged approximately 25 - 30. He looks side to side worried, then looks at me. "What are you doing here?! did you hear?!" I reply "I've been standing out here. What's on the news?" He tells me to come inside his apartment, worried, terrified, horrified.. timorous.

a rogue wave towering 150 feet heading directly toward new york city. evacuation is in process... do not panic... secure all doors and windows...

I'm running in panic. Running and not looking back. My life depends on it. I take out my cell phone as I'm running. I press the talk button twice. pick up! pick up the damn phone!! "hello? why are you so annoying?! why can't you just come back to new york? why do you have to be so far away all the time? what are you running from?" I reply "what?! listen! turn on the news right now! secure your windows and your door now!  i.. i... .." she cuts me off " I know already. But why can't you come back to new york? you're so annoying! just come back to where you belong, and find your self in me. I got another call, let me call you back." she hangs up. what.. I press talk twice again in effort to tell her something. it rings.. you have reached 9.. 1.. 7.. **... please leave a... fuck. what did i need to tell her? and why am I so hesitant?!

I stop running. it's dark. I turn around only to see the wave towering over the Empire State building. slowly paving it's own road, slowly devoring everything in it's path. I get to the nearest man hole. i kneel and place my fingers through the holes of the man hole cap, but it's very heavy and the road is paved onto it. I'm struggling. I put all my might and weight into it. It's open! I slip the cap just enough for my body to fit, I climb down couple of rungs on the sewer ladder, and close the cap above my head. I'm listening to the fading noise of car alarms and horns, people screaming in terror, and the alert siren that just shut off at an instant. it passed. Water droplets echoes through the dark, stench polluted sewer. I'm still on the ladder thinking of what to do next. I hear water. it's getting louder and louder. I look to my left and the water is rushing into the underground pipe. Fast and furiously. My phone rings.. I take it out of my pocket and it's her face on my phone. I pick up as the rushing water hits my body. I feel nothing. I'm not drowning, nor am I gasping for air. I'm floating in the middle of this water locked sewer. It's dark, cold, and I'm alone. I press the phone to my ear in this sewage abyss and I hear "..... ... .. ... ... ...?"

And.. i open my eyes.  crazy dream.

damnnnn I haven't updated in a hot minute. A new york minute. So much had happened since my last update, I might need another pack of cigs and 2 40oz of coors to recap everything. lets skip on all the details and get to the point. I'm out of the army for good, moved to new york which seemed like a good idea at the time and of course it wasn't. it was a bad move on my behalf; i guess i was thinking with my heart and not my head. my heart will always be with new york. being in new york did knock some good senses into me. although this is Fing cliche, you learn from your mistakes. Now that i'm in vegas, a bland new life starts for me. once again. I'm attending school full time to earn my hotel events / mgnment degree, in the mean time, I'll be working during the weekends promoting events. I'll also be working for my parents managing their store's finances, whenever they get here. It's a whole new beginning, and i'm thrilled to put everything into my self with no outside distractions.

yup.

October!

To keep your marriage brimming,
With love in the wedding cup,
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up.

venting

all with in 6

a struggle opening my eyes with the gleaming lap top screen blinding me. i blink in effort to clear up my vision. everything is silhouetted, everything is disfigured. i rub my eyes in effort to get rid of this discomfort. it's a little better. my body is in pain. i stretch my arms and rotate my shoulders in search for this nuisance, this sharp, heavy pressure. yea, it's my shoulders. what can i expect from wearing all the gear and equipment that the army provides and running around in search for nothing for hours on in. days on in. i feel like i carried an elephant on my shoulders for days. get up. you're bitching and being lazy at the same time. it's not the time and place to be a helpless bitcher.  i roll over to check the time on my watch. i can't see shit. the damn screen is too bright to even check the time. i rummage through who knows what. ah there it is. i place the watch a inch away from the screen in hope for some luminescence. i close the screen. it's glowing 0514. why am i awake? 2 hours till breakfast, 7 hours till we load up for mad max. why the hell am i awake?! i close my eyes, cover my face with my covers, and try to get comfortable. deep breath. fuck...

1110. i've missed breakfast once again. my stomach is screaming for some attention. what to eat? once again i'm force to settle with instant ravioli; either that or a protein shake and a herseys king size milk chocolate. i can just imagine now, the havoc i'll be causing inside the Bradley. chill, ravioli will do. i shall have mercy upon the crew today.

heavy clouds, heavy winds, disgusting humidity, about a 100 degrees, it's nasty out. real nasty. a thin layer of sand is carried by the wind, dances a little then slaps me in the face. it's not a good day to be wearing contact lenses. not a good day at all. making small talks with the crew, some jokes here and there, haha that was sort of funny, but i forced that one out. 1215, it's time to load up. what in the.. where the hell did the sun come from? some things always find it's way to make my day just a wee bit better. fucking sun, i hate to love you.

i weigh 163 lbs, i wonder how much i weigh with all my gear? 250lbs? 260lbs at most. 800+ 5.56mm rounds, S.A.W., vest, A.C.H., camel back, first aid, what else, P.I.R., night vision capabilities, 2 knives, tool, yea, i'm a tool.. "chang! bourke! let's go! we don't got all fuckin' day here to day dream!" once again the fat lady sings. sigh.

"closing the ramp!!" here we go. the rolling 6 hour steaming sauna session begins. all kinds of heat is trapped inside this metal 6' x 6' cubical. 5 sweaty men, not to forget 1 taking most of the space with just one ass cheek, cramped tightly together with well over 500lbs of gear on. i'm pondering my existence. it's really loud. the tracks sound like a million whiny old ladies screaming simultaneously just to piss me off. sure got the job done cause i'm reaching, searching in panic for my ear plugs. the heat takes all control over my mind. ah, fuck it i can deal. i probably left it in the barracks anyway. it's way too hot to even budge. [varoooooooooom- screeeeeeeeeeeeeech- chum-chum-chum- thump- varooooooooooooooooooooooom- screeeeeeeeech- chum-chum-chum] "what?!! i can't hear you!!!" all i see is mouths moving, then some hand and arm signals that looks as if he was trying his best to look retarded. whatever, it's probably nothing. [varooooooom- screeeeeeeech chum-chum-thump] shit 1345, we're 15 minutes early.

[pshht] "two vehicles are on your right, i see 3.. no no 5 iraqi police standing there with aks" [pssht]

[pshht] "are we clear to go?" [pssht]

[pssht] "yea!, let me scan our sector then i'll lower the ramp" [pssht]

[pssht] "alright, anytime!" [pssht]

[pssht] "are you ready? we're done scanning" [pssht]

[pssht] "yea! lower it!" [pssht]

the ramp is lowering very slowly. bourke and ssg. colindres runs out with the ramp half open. i follow bourke, sgt. shep. follows ssg. c, and queine follows me. "ermy shalahak!! ermy fucking shalahak!!!" they immidiatly drop their weapons. i signal to raise their hand to the sky. they cooperate with every single order i bark at them. they better, i'm ready to place 3+ in each and every one of them. "everyone over there! mihnnah!" group them facing out, don't let them talk to one another until we're finished hitting this place. I.P.s rank seems particularly familiar. a star and a eagle, a maj. a star, 2nd leut. nothing, infidels. the major seems to know a little english. "no alibabah, no alibabah mista" yea, everyone is a bad guy to me, like i'm going to listen to you. (i don't give a half of shit if you're the gen. of I.P.s) "sla!? do you have anymore sla!!?" 11 I.P.s in total, they must have more weapons than measly 7 aks and 3 magazines. "yes yes" he directs me toward one of their vehicals, pops the trunk, and takes out 5 more aks and numerous amount of ak magazines. just as i figured. queine is taking their information down, ssg. is questioning the I.P. maj. bourke is pulling security as i'm looking at our security cordon and thinking we only have 5 guys. good security, but what if there are more hostile I.P.s?! we'd be fucked. royally. naturally, we'd have more than a squad element raiding a station this big, but we don't conduct mad max with more than a team element. 5 men team. granted we have the bradley, and abrahams watching our backs around the corner, but the fuck is this shit?! "ssg. c! do you notice that the I.P. maj. still has a side arm?" how can you not notice?! he's cupping it with his thump and index finger, playing cow boy tough guy. the I.P. maj. quick draws his glock from his hip pouch and places 4 rounds into ssg. c's neck. i unload a whole drum, all 200 rounds sprayed into the I.P. station making choas look like childs play. during the mists of blazing inferno, i realize i've slaughtered all 11 I.P.s including queine, my team mate, my 203 gunner, who was pulling security on the 11 I.P.s. "yea, i know he has it chang. he's giving us intel about insultgents so i could trust him for now." i wake up from my day dream and reassure my self. ok, trust him? trust an I.P.? the people who wear the U.N. and the Geneva's convention as a shield after blowing us up, shooting at us, and making us look like fools?! trust him? you must be out of your mind. i don't even trust the iraqis who work in our dining facility. 1510, time seems to be going backwards on me. sweat drips and splatters on my watch.

bourke is taking apart the aks to prevent stupidity from reaching it's height, queine pulling security on the 11 I.P.s, sgt. shep playing with his M4, looking around, looking bored, ssg. c trying to communicate with the I.P. maj. besides the fact that we have no inner cordon, everything is going fairly smooth.

over watch from the roof top until the bradley comes back from the thunder run, security inside the I.P. station, keep them in a group. suddenly, a loud bang. a cloud of dust kicks in through the door way. i'm in complete shock, my feet welded into the ground, and my heart is pumping in my mouth. think. i quickly gather my self. a mortar attack? it can't be. they can't be that accurate. "move!! get down!!" spread the I.P.s out so they don't get shot. get cover. i peek outside to check if sgt. shep is alright. he was sitting out side where the impact was the whole time we were securing the I.P.s. a smile on sgt. shep's face told me enough. a fucking accidental discharge. sgt. shelp clicks his weapon from semi to safe. "haha damn i nearly took my foot off." how clumsy can a person get? just enough to make a complete fool of him self and still smile at the fact the he could've easily killed or wounded any of us inside the building. smile, keep smiling, because i'm glad you find this incident funny. it's all shits and giggles until you cap someone by fracturcide. we'll be really laughing then. laugh it out, no one is hurt. I.P. maj. collects him self from the ground; he apparently flipped him self over the chair from the discharge. my muscles, teeth, and heart loosens up. i give a faint smile to the I.P.s and the I.P. maj. so sgt. shep. isn't alone. the I.P.s find the incident amusing also. we talk about it.

[POP!-POP!-POP!     POP!-POP!-POP! PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA!        POP!-POP!-POP!      PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA!]

my muscles tighten up, teeth clenched, heart's back in my mouth, and this time it's not pumping. a pinching ring shatters my regathered mind. think. "get down!! down! now!!" i sway my arms left to right signaling the I.P.s to get out of the door's way, the fatal funnel. queine is covered by a pillar. good, no one is hurt, but i still need to make sure. "are you alright queine?!" he looks stunned. a ghostly face. "yea.. yea i'm alright.. sounded like a coax, or.. or..  a RPK or something. where the fuck is the radio when we need one?! sgt. shep! you have commo with the guys up stairs?" he's already outside running toward the ladder that leads to the roof top. this man has completely lost his mind. i'm running out to cover him. cover, drop bipod, in prone, eye on scope, scanning. nothing. why am i panting? "are any of the I.P.s hurt queine?!" "no, their fine, but one looks like his about to cry though." can't think of anything to say. i manage to seep out a laugh or two. i'm scanning my proclaimed sector and waiting. waiting. waiting. the bursts are from the the M4 and the spray was from the S.A.W. we didn't get engaged upon; we engaged. situation changes, i'm looking for anyone who is running, fleeing away from our sector. nothing. there are snipers out there. i quickly get up and run back inside the the I.P. station. i hear foot steps on the roof, also the bradley making it's way into the dirt path from route michigan to the I.P. station. all good noises. good noises. i wipe the sweat off of my forehead and chin, and walk out side to get some information from ssg. c and bourke about what had just happened. air. glance back, just in case the I.P.s try to get stupid while our guns are down. they're not that stupid.

sitting in 6'x6' rolling microwave oven. my forearm skims the ramp. ouch, that fucking burns. ssg. c is panting, bouke is fine, both smiling, both ok. ssg. c waiting is for the bradley to slow down to talk. i can see it in his facial expression. [clinc-clinc-clinc-clinc   clinc   clinc       clinc] "alright! we're heading toward the **6 broken down bulding. three hajis, one wearing a white man dress!, one wearing a red and white striped shirt!, the other one with a green button down shirt dropped a heavy black plastic bag and made a run for it!. bourke and i engaged them, but we're not sure if we wounded or killed any of them! too much dirt kicked up, and they were about 500 meters away. we couldn't see shit!" they're running for it, and we're going to check out the supposed I.E.D. drop point? it doesn't make any sense to me. too late to say anything now, we're already here. damn.

[pssht] "ok guys, we're at the broken down building. we'll cover your south, just swing around to the right and make your way out on to the dirt path." [pssht]

[pssht] "yea! lower the ramp!"[pssht"]

[BOOOOOOOOM!!]

[pssht] "never mind, that could've been bad" [pssht]

no shit...

the black plastic bag explodes. i hear strapnel and debris bouncing off the bradley. the explosion sounds numb and distant inside the hell hole, but eerie as hell. the 155. round that exploded inside the black plastic bag didn't smudge the up-armoured bradley. remote detonation. they must be still around the area. if we go out now three things can happen: get ambushed, get blown up by a booby/daisy chained I.E.D., or avoid both and run into town to search for the 3 fleeing hajis.

[pssht] hey, move the bradley into the town, call up white 2 and cordon off the town as we search the buildings. [pssht]

[pssht] roger that. moving [pssht]

one million whiny old ladies screaming sweet nothings into my ear once again. i don't feel a thing. [varoooooooooooooooooom chum- screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech- varoooooooooooooooooooom- screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeechclinc-clinc-clinc- clinc] how sweet the sound. i have a tight grip on my pistol grip of my S.A.W., head rattling from the turning and peviting tracks, and i'm waiting patiently for them to lower the damn ramp so we can kill these fuckers.

[pssht] "lowering ramp! swing around to your left! be safe! we got you covered" [pssht]

bourke and ssg. c runs out with the ramp half open. i follow bourke, sgt. shep. follows ssg. c, and queine follows me. all weapons up, and barrels facing in all possible directions, we have a good cordon. the towns people start disappearing one by one in panic. in fear. old iraqi ladies are sheltering their children under their arms backing toward the street-side shacks made of bristles and large palm leafs, iraqi men with their broken down cars trying to start the damn thing but it won't seem to start, people inside their border line debris of what may seem like tenements closing their torn up curtains, everyone looks suspicious. they're all wearing the same masks! our objective target is this broken down building. never mind the people in the streets, lets just get us inside this fucking thing. sgt. shep kicks the blue gate in effort to kick the gate down. [BAM!    BAM!    BAM!"] "shit, it has dead bolt on it. it's impossible to kick this shit down." [BAM!] "nothing" there has to be another way in. i look around the perimeter of the broken down building. the walls are too high to jump, we can't shoot the dead bolt, no one has a bolt cutter nor the 'key to the cit..' wait. the bradley!

[pssht] "we need ya'll to way a hole for us" [pssht]

[pssht] "no problem" [pssht]

the bradley on the north side pivots left and hauls hell down the dirt path. i feel the ground trembling, the debris shivering, feet tingling from the earth shaking tracks. the bradley pivots left, and rushes into the brick wall cutting through it like knife in warm butter. the bradley pulls back as we wait leaning against the wall in a stacked formation. [thathump- thathump- thathump--] my heart pumps and echoes through my hollow head. "go go go!" we charge into the hole filled with rubble expecting to kill something, expecting who knows what. hopping over the rubble, try not to bust an ankle, look up, get the corner and lock it down. "where is the party at?!!!, where is all the excitement?! nothing! search all corners!" (ok, maybe you should bring it down a notch sgt. shep, you've just broad casted our raid to all of iraq. thanks.). no one inside, just a helpless rooster running for it's dear life. roof top needs to be checked. running cables from the roof top to the explosion site might have relations. watch the windows for grenades and ak barrels, check everything then double check it. there are fatal funnels everywhere. an R.P.G. can get shot out from one of those tenement windows, straight into the made hole, and take my head off, or anyone elses. easily. 1-6 element is here. 2nd leut. powel with his R.T.O. reid, team leader in training spec. killian, and ex R.T.O. sgt. huddleston. why do they seem so lost? "killian! get back and get cover behind the fucking bradley." sgt. shep. barks at killian. a normal, but a stupid mistake during combat operations: scanning someone else's sector, standing in the field of fire and the fatal funnel, and not seeking cover. some cherry shit. 1-6 element is taking over this sector, pulling security and checking the roof top as we go on to the next building. run out, get in the wedge formation, looking around, weapon points at every single movement, slightest accusation can make my trigger finger twitch, back into stack against the building. deep breath. [BAM!            BAM!] (someone needs to work out his lower body more often.) "get the fucking bradley over here." rumbles beneith me. i see another bradley whip around the corner, angry as hell, pevots right and smashes the concrete wall down. a knife in warm butter. the bradley pulls back by whipping it's tail around to it's left to provide rear cover. i'm at the end of the stacked formation this time.  [thathump- thathump- thathump--]  i run forward parallel to the stack, i lock down while moving across the hole making a arch shaped movement "pie-ing the corner" clearing most of the court yard; atleast what's left of it. i'm on the opposite side of the stack, facing and making eye contact with sgt. shep who is in front of the formation. "clear" |nod| he doesn't hesitate and runs in - bourke - quiene - sgt. c. glancing back. nothing.  i follow their tracks.

a parking lot filled with striped, rusted semis and sedans. the stench from the burning rubber and oil is almost unbearable. oil spots, and wires wildly spreads amongst the rubble and the sandy ground. cleared. nothing too suspicious. anyone with common sense can clearly tell that the building is empty. no one has the balls to go in that thing with out a death wish. the building isn't a building, but it's just a big rubble with some spaces in between ready to collapse on it's victims. 1 155. round would do the job. bad vibes. i'm not too worried about our security outside of the building. 1-6 element was attached to the bradleys and welcomed abrahams providing 360 security, we're good. "anything?!" ssg. c questions. "nothing sgt, they could have jumped the wall if anything" bourke sounds annoyed yet anxious to find the three men. "remount. white 3 stoped two vehicles trying to haul ass down michigan. they came out of our A.O. we're going to check out if those are our guys." my body is getting heavier by the second, my vision's blurred from the dryness of my contacts, and my feet is burning from the movements. ((get up. you're bitching and being lazy at the same time. it's not the time and place to be a helpless bitcher.)) deep breath. 1837: time flies when your having fun.

[varooooooooooooooooooooooooom- screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech chum-chum-chum-chuchum- varooooooooooooooooooooom- clinc-clinc-clinc      -clinc- clinc    clinc     clinc       clinc]

[pssht] two vehicles. 2 hajis, 1 kid, and the females with their infants inside the vehicles. [pssht]

[pssht] lower it!!! lets get this over with. [pssht]

[pssht] alright, stay inbetween abraham and the brad for cover. [pssht]

[pssht] got you, lets go [pssht]

here we go! after this search, whether these fucks are the trigger men or not, we're done. 1917, a sudden relief. my mind is yearning for some rest, my body's agreeing. the ramp unlatches, and as its getting lowered, i feel a hot breeze seeping through the gaps. two vehicles, 2 hajis, 1 kid on the side in a squatting position, women holding their babies inside the parked vehicles. too easy. we've searched more than 5000 vehicles while on tour, this isn't any different. i'm searching the first vehicle my self. i look inside the drivers seat, nothing, front passenger, nothing, back seat, frightened woman with her traditional arabic clothing on, nothing too suspicious, baby crying, check under the baby, check the leg space. i'm not opening anything on, in, and around this car. "chang, pull security on the hajis while quiene checks that vehicle." good choice, he doesn't have 800 rounds and a S.A.W. with him. quiene is helping out sgt. shep. check the 2nd vehicle first. i look around. towns people are curious, but as soon as they meet my eye, they turn around and head back into their houses. i look down. the 2 hajis seem to be afraid, shook, traumatized by this incident. the kid is looking around as all kids do. curious about every little thing, they can't seem to stay still. i don't mind. he's not a threat. i loosen up. everything is calm, and it's going fairly smooth. i reach for my cigarettes in my ammo pouch, take one out and light it. inhale, exhale deeply. i turn around. i see bourke walking towards my way. "hey dude! got a lig..[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!] the world is spinning, and it's fading black. i hear a sharp ring in my left ear, what's going on? where am i? i hear rocks bouncing off of my helmet, i hear crying, loud, high pitched screams all around me, what the fuck.. think. think. the concussion from the blast knocked me to a different planet. flying strapnel! small arms fire! get up! get cover! i can move, that's a good sign. i dash and slam against the first vehicle, i look up to the back seat if the woman and the baby is ok. they're screaming their lungs out, no blood, they're ok. "come here!" i wave to the kid whose standing out in the open, crying. he listens, gets on all fours, and crawls toward the vehicle. he's ok. looking around, everyone is behind cover. everyone is ok. the fucking ringing won't stop. fix my helmet, cuff hand around the grip. deep breath. ok, need to find the fucking trigger man. the bradley just made a right into a dirt path that leads into the town in front of us. they're chasing the trigger man. "ey! come on!" sgt. shep. is jogging into the town. bourke and i make eye contact and we simultaneously dash toward sgt. shep who is by the dirt entrance of the town. i got right. ssg. c and quiene makes their way toward bourke and i. ssg. c and quiene covering our rear, we're running into the town.

Currently Watching Team America: World Police see related

"AMERICAAA~       FUCK YEAA~"

this movie is absolutely retarded. i sprayed the tv with protein shake when i heard kim's song.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

good news and bad news.

good news first.

-reached 265lbs on the bench this morning.

-self physical training test maxed out with 56 on top.

-checked my bank account $.$

-going home late march for R and R

-going home late march for R and R with out changes

-going home late march for R and R for sure.

R and R FUCK YEAA~

now the bad news.

fuck the bad news, im going home! ha-ha-ha-ha!

--

i feel you brothers.

keep your heads high and watch your sectors.

i'll be back to complete this mission in no time.

-edit-

from top left to bottom right i introduce -the hounds of iraq- barks are bigger than it's bites.

1. DPG (no names) 2. Blaster (currently training to take all bitches in iraq in any fight.) 3. Sandy (r.i.p.) -fucking bastards.

4. Romp (E.O.D. bomb sniffing dog.) 5. Raqi (2nd PLT mascot. dumb dog gets chased by his own tail.)

6. Last but never the least, Shag. (Shag probably eats out of one of the porter johns. always lookin' cracked out and high some shit. literally)