Awwww....

I guess the first time one of your troops does something as uber-cute as zonks out in the middle of a Dr. Seuss book... well, you just have to show that off.

Failure

As you may well know, I move through life on the assumption that I am better than most people at most things, and when focused on any particular task or skill, given time I can be better than just about everybody- let's say the 99th percentile level or so. Before you cite my high school GPA or some other mediocre performance in my past, I easily write off such failures as examples of me not really caring enough to try- or redirecting back into my court- for example I will gladly tell you that I probably had the highest GPA of all the students who vowed never to do homework, which is what I did. Got A's on tests and projects, but never turned in many daily assignments. More on this at a later date- back to the topic du jour. I am convinced that I can do anything I set my mind to better than just about everybody- anything you can do I can do better. So when I run into something that I can't do, it's a big brick wall.

My latest unbeatable adversary: Quality Facial Hair

I secretly tried to grow a moustache over the last five days, for no reason other than to see if I could. I'm not really a big fan of having a moustache, but I'd like the option.

As I'm sure you are thinking, five days does not grow a decent moustache on even the manliest of men- Chuck Norris, Tom Selleck and Jesus would be notable exceptions. But nearly any full grown post-pubescent, testosterone producing man (and many Mediterranean women), if their upper lip were to go unshaved for 120 hours, would at least have a noticeable fuzz. I, as it turns out, cannot produce even the slightest Alabama Caterpillar. My feeble attempt went absolutely un-noticed.

No one at work, no one at school.

My wife didn't even notice. Cut me deep, she did. I kissed her every day, and no noticeable reaction from the added slight stubbliness.

I shaved the failing fuzz yesterday morning.

Is it odd that my Razors last me 6 months before going dull?



I have to re-think my place in this world.

Monday Bitchiness

They closed all but one of the 37 entrances to the gym today and harassed everyone for their ID's upon entry... I, as usual, had left mine in the car during PT, and had to waste five minutes retreiving it lest I be gang tackled and cavity searched by Dwight Schrute's clone, he and his security forces brethren thought it'd be fun to exercise what happens when they go to threat condition RED ALERT SHIT YOUR PANTS DELTA, which according to the official documentation should be officially instituted after worldwide total nuclear war but before the dead walk the earth and lucifer takes over. The gym was, of course, the only building on base that was given this treatment, not the Operations Center in charge of every USAF plane in the pacific, or the airfields servicing all of the state, or the numerous communications relays that serve 3000 miles in every direction- no! the terrorist's target has to be the building full of sweaty meatheads, dependasaurs, and base workers trying to squeeze half a workout into their lunch hour. This makes a lot of sense to me because if I were an al-qaeda operative scoping the base the first bunch of infidels I'd want to schwack is the 11:45 intermediate Tae-Bo class- a bunch of pissed off moms learning to kick ass the Oprah way. Target #2 would probably then have to be the food court, so we'd better put that sucker on lock down, say from the hours of 11 am- 1pm or so... hmmm where else... probably want to lock down the entrance at the front gate around 0700, then the exit at 4 pm or so... prime time that the terrorists would want to access the base.

The bottom line: if I have to jog with my freakin ID card stuffed in my jockeys in the heat of the day (Alas, I have no pockets) the terrorists have already won.

On a happy note, upon returning to the gym I was happy to hand my ID to Dwight for close inspection.