If It’s All the Same To You Me

I’ve got 3 shaves (11 days) left til my next four week leave and the mundanacity and tediaciousness of KAF is starting to wear on me. After 3 years and 5 months, even cool aircraft flying low overhead are just another traffic headache. But I’ll start with a neat picture anyway. Then on with a litany of things that got my goat or provided mild amusement over the last few days.

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Can you tell which ones are the small sections?

I overheard an entertaining conversation between a US serviceman behind me in line and the DFAC server at the Northline the other day. The airman had a take out box…you know, those styrofoam jobbies with separated areas for different foods and a fold over lid. He smiled and pleasantly requested “Hi, just a little bit of that in one of the small sections” while pointing to some slop. “In the small section...” muttered the server, “Yes please, just a little bit in the small section of the box“. “Ok, in the small section” answers the also pleasant and smiling server as he ladles a great heap of it into the large section of the container. To the soldier’s credit, he just chuckled, said “Thanks”, looked at me and shrugged. I was greatly amused and, sadly, this incident was the highlight of my day.

Please Sir May I Have Some More?

I want salmon not fish!

At the Lux a couple of nights ago they had Smoked Salmon advertised on the salad bar menu. Nothing else looked good on the menu so both J and I figured we’d load up on it. We both wandered around looking for it and, finding none, I gave up and grabbed a couple of slices of bread and some cold, tough as nails, roast beef to make a sandwich. I found J on the far side of the DFAC standing forlornly in front of an empty tray labeled “Smoked Salmon”. “I asked that guy over there if they were going to bring out more”, he said. “Well, are they?” I asked. “I don’t know…he just did this” J replied as he performed a reasonable facsimile of the Indian head waggle. I suggested he ask again and be sure to get a yes or no as standing there all night in the hope that the waggle meant yes seemed rather risky (and pathetic). Successfully getting a “yes” on his second try, J returned to stand jealously guarding the empty tray. When the salmon finally appeared, I hastily grabbed the tongs and served myself first…just to piss J off. It worked marvelously.

Yeah, that looks just like a DFAC door.

While we’re talking of the Lux, you may recall how the numbering on the decorative fake doors disturbed my sense of order (math is important people!). Well, they still haven’t fixed that egregious mistake but I guess some people were inexplicably getting fooled by these incongruous things that are unlike any other doors in KAF…so much so that they had to label them “No Exit”. Oh really? You mean I can’t leave the DFAC via these magical portals and find myself in a London tenement? I’m assuming the Fire Marshall in his misguided zeal to ensure idiots live to breed is responsible for these ridiculous signs. Nevermind their obvious pseudo-doorishness, is anyone going to think they’re real when the numbers on them are not even properly sequential? Ugh.

Oh Banana, We Stand On Guard for Thee

We were all quite saddened to see that someone wantonly abandoned a banana on Banana Day. Is nothing sacred?

M, S and I went to the Far East for dinner tonight. I reluctantly had the Chicken in Pineapple Sauce even though it broke the rules as everything else was unappetizing. I found out that, as I had anticipated, I dislike Honey Glazed Pumpkin; however, it’s soft consistency was a welcome relief after bouncing my teeth off the chicken for a while. The Carrot and Raisin Salad was inexplicably delicious as usual but what really saved the meal was that it was Banana Day. “Why didn’t you get a banana?”I asked M. “I don’t really like bananas”, M shockingly reported. “But, it’s Banana Day, it’s one of the few things to look forward to around here” I cried. “Oh, I still look forward to Banana Day…I just don’t have a banana”, he explained.

Shouldn’t he be armed?

What happened to the banana line up you may be wondering? Well, there is now a banana guard permanently on station who will hand you your maximum quota of two bananas so we no longer have to wait for everyone to balance 10 of them on their plate. The guard seemed quite taken aback that S and I requested only one each and made a bit of an effort to hand us each two but we declined. I suspect his orders were along the lines of “Two bananas per person, Mr. Banana Guard. Discretion will not be tolerated”.

Some Polite Reminders

If you’re at IH and really want some of that not-so-delicious looking white cake, don’t place your tray on the rails in front of that cake and position your fucking body in front of the lemon drizzle cake thereby preventing me and other people with taste from reaching said lemon drizzle cake. Why do you feel the need to block access to 5 goddamn feet of the dessert table? I dislike you intensely.

I have no words…just a gag reflex.

Look, we all gotta share the rockets outside the DFACS and not all of us are disgusting pigs like you. Why the hell would you throw an empty TP roll into the urinal? Looking at and smelling urine soaked cardboard does nothing to improve anyone’s day…not to mention the splash hazard you’ve created. And what the fuck is the deal with the empty water bottles strewn around the floor? You don’t have to immediately fucking rehydrate upon taking a piss. If, as I’ve seen happen in the past, you are washing your feet in the urinal in preparation for a “muttering to yourself session”…just fucking stop it…it’s disgusting and using a urinal for washing kinda defeats the purpose dontcha think? Oh yeah, and if you drop a piece of toilet paper on the floor…pick it the fuck up and drop it in the hole…only you know where it’s been. The hard-working Ecolog employees who have to clean up the rockets after these animals must despise them more than I do.

Hey, Mr. US Armyman who blocked the road for 20 minutes a couple of nights ago, you’re not the most important fucking person in the world. If you’re going to block half the road with parked buses, I’m going to try to pass them. Rather than stepping in front of my vehicle and forcing me to stop while you direct about 100 soldiers to form an almost stationary line right across the road, how about you direct a few of them across, then wave me through and carry on til the next car arrives? I was the only vehicle there, you could have waved me through at no cost of your time but instead you stole 20 minutes of mine. And then, after your guys are finally on the buses, you really shouldn’t step in front of me and wave me through while your co-prick is standing behind you ordering me to stop. Can you see how this might lead to confusion? I find your inefficiency and unbrightness distasteful.

That’s Disconcerting

Yoiks!

Don’t you hate it when you drive up to your home and there’s a HazMat Response truck parked out front? I figured that some asshole had washed his filth covered work clothes in the shower and the resulting sludge had mixed with the poo water in our foul bathroom creating a toxic mix of disgustingness that had become self aware and was skulking around our hallway leaving a trail of slime. Turns out the HazMat guys live upstairs and were just on break.

Not The Comfy Chair!

Where’s the HazMat team when you really need ’em?

When Northline first opened I was quite impressed with the generously upholstered, cloth-covered seats on their chairs. They are very comfortable indeed. There are, however, a couple of drawbacks to them. One: they tend to absorb the food that drips from the various maws around here and I’m pretty sure no one has ever even considered shampooing them. Two: The extra comfort causes J and L to dawdle over lunch and I have to listen to them discuss Manolo Blahnik shoes and debate who the best Sex and the City character was.

See What I Have to Put Up With

For those of you who haven’t worked here, you have to understand that KAF is different than a workplace back in the real world. We spend a hell of a lot of time together and many of the normal workplace niceties tend to fall by the wayside (as our penchant for talking about toilet strategy at dinner may indicate). They can be a pretty tough crowd.

As you may recall, I’ve reluctantly begun exercising to try and achieve some semblance of fitness. I can now do a few sets of pushups without tearing up so I was feeling quite chuffed with myself. M took care of that however. “Hey, I’m pretty sure, that if I squinted just right, I could see the beginning of an ab”, I bragged. “You sure? It’s probably just a hernia”, he opined.

J did nothing for my ego either. You see, he’s a budding professional photographer. By budding I mean that he has spent half a gazillion dollars on a lot of high end photo gear. As he hones his craft, he’s always looking for volunteers to be in his pictures. “Would you mind if I took a few pictures of you? I want to try out some new techniques”, he asked. Fancying myself a rather photogenic, model-type guy, I readily agreed. “Great. I want to create a worst case scenario” he added rather unnecessarily.

Sign Language

Now don’t go getting all upply with me!

On a less grumpy note, there were a few more signs I found pleasing. Now, if you want to advertise your business, putting a sign on your vehicle is a great low cost option. But I think it’s probably important to make sure your sign making guy isn’t an idiot with balance problems. I can’t help but interpret this to mean they’re generally snobby. And who the fuck doesn’t ask “Does that look straight to you” even when they’re just hanging a picture, never mind putting a giant sign on an SUV?

I bet someone blocked their lemon cake access.

This one led me to dream up all manner of intrigue. Who wronged them? How will they avenge their honour? When? Are they biding their time before presenting the dish best served cold? Perhaps they found one too many pee stained rolls in a urinal. I expect to one day see this van with a sign simply stating “Sated”. It’s very exciting.

I already have…for the last 45 days.

This one just made the words “NO NO NO” reverberate through my brain. The last fucking thing you want to do in KAF is recycle today…it already seems like everyday is a recycled yesterday. Let’s just get right to tomorrow please. Or better yet, let’s just toss the next 11 days directly in the trash.

Bottom Line

11 more sleeps…

“Boredom is rage spread thin.”-Paul Tillich