I’m outta here for 4 weeks off tomorrow! As usual, I plan to write some posts from home and, as usual, I likely won’t bother. So, to tide you over in the meantime, here’s a photo rich compendium of KAF stuff from the last several days, starting with yet another messed up Toyota Surf .
Cool Commute Photo of the Week
As the temperatures begin to rise around here, so do the dust devils. These aren’t the little, two-foot high vortices I’ve seen back in Canada where the temps reach a scorching 25C. This kinda shit requires lots of super-fine, talc-like dust and seriously stupid temperatures like we get in Kandahar. These suckers are sometimes 1000 feet high. For Canadians under 40 and non-North Americans that’s about 300 metres. For my Sumerian readers, that’s 666 cubits. They look even cooler when a Harrier is flying is by them.
Curiouser and Curiouser
We’ve eaten at the Cambridge a lot recently and the food there is becoming quite odd. Most disturbingly, roast beef wasn’t on the menu on Sunday night. If you can’t count on getting uber-tough, shitty roast beef at the Cambridge on a Sunday, what can you count on? Then there’s the “salads”. It used to be that the DFACS figured adding broccoli to festering leftovers would magically transform them into a salad. Now they’ve abandoned all pretense and just toss anything into a serving tray, slap it on the salad bar and see who eats it. Ok, so M tells me that the Bacon and Pineapple Salad was pretty good…due, I’m sure, to the presence of bacon which forgives all sins. We’re not sure, however, whether the Pork and Onion salad was good or not. M got some, ate it, said it was ok but wasn’t sure if he had indeed taken the Pork and Onion salad or the Salmon salad that was beside it. I don’t think a Pork and Onion salad which cannot be gustatorially distinguished from Salmon salad can be considered “good” no matter how non-disagreeable the taste. Following M’s expression of confusion, a long, labourious and pointless discussion ensued during which we discussed whether the Pork and Onion salad was intended for sandwich use along the lines of, say, Tuna Salad or Chicken Salad, or the DFAC did indeed consider it akin to a tossed salad. This was shortly followed by a discussion of whether vanilla pudding with orange slices and gooseberries added can, indeed, be called Fruit Mousse. The answer, provided by me, was, of course “No, it fucking can’t but I’m disappointed to admit that it tastes ok”. M ended the discussion with a rather hang dog expression and a muttered “I’ve never been so flummoxed by a meal”.
While we were waiting in the fried egg/omelette line a couple of days ago, I noticed a sweet roll on J’s tray. “Is that part of your no-carb diet?” I snarkily inquired. Referring to what he has, to this point, called his “no carb diet”, he replied “It’s not no-carb, it’s low-carb. And, it’s not a diet, it’s an eating system”. I stand uncorrected.
Today, the Omelette King really freaked me out. I got in line behind about 10 other people and he immediately picked up my immutable order of three over easy eggs off the grill, came over and put ’em on my plate. Ok, so now he’s gone from just remembering our orders to predicting our arrival? That’s unnerving…yet tasty and efficient…I like it.
Hot Enough For Ya?
As we were gathering to go for breakfast around 8 am, a group of guys walked by us on their way to work. Nothing usual there…except that they were all wearing jackets, one of them with his hood up. Again, this doesn’t sound strange unless one considers that it was 31 fucking degrees celcius and only going to get hotter throughout the day. Yeah, I understand that not everyone is from Canada but, come on, who the hell wears a jacket at that temperature? A very bad part of me would like to invite these guys to Winnipeg in February.
Is That What I Think It Is?
S found a rather disturbing mass in his oatmeal at the Northline a couple of weeks ago. L thought it looked like the monsters from some Antarctic based horror movie. Her extensive, yet fragmented, dissertation on the plot interspersed with the occasional “wait that’s not right” and “I wish I could remember the name of it” was fascinating but ultimately not helpful in identifying the oatmeal interloper. Someone else thought it looked like a piece of rubber insulation. S insisted that it was just coagulated oatmeal. I think he told himself that just so he could continue to eat it. I’m pretty certain it was a slug. Yeah, I’m going with slug.
That’s Enough of That
On A Road to Nowhere
They’re building a new road on the north side of the base. So far it’s pretty awesome but I fear they may just get bored and stop paving at any time again. Where the road is finished it’s great. It’s nice and straight and even has lines painted on it. I guess one could say it’s like the information superhighway except it’s for cars rather than information. I’m naively hoping that the 20 kph speed limit is only temporary and that they actually plan to smooth and pave the offroad experience at the end of it.
The cups in the IH have finally been moved to within the same county as the drink dispensers. Power of the press!
Grapefruit – A Poll
Almost every morning A has a grapefruit. As expected, he slices around the edge to remove the peel but he always leaves a bunch of the pith attached to the edible fruit part. The Oxford English Dictionary defines pith as “1. that disgusting looking and vile tasting white shit from the inner side of a citrus peel; 2. something only losers eat”. I, on the other hand, ensure I leave a layer of pulp in the peel so my grapefruit remains delightfully pith-free. A claims the pith is good for you and tastes great despite my repeatedly informing him that he is wrong. Some people are just stubborn, I guess. What do you think?
Is That a Threat?
One more sleep then off to a land with good food, good beer, unstupid weather, no footprints on the toilet seat, decent smelling air, and my family. The anti-KAF, as it were.
“gotta get out of this place” – Eric Burdon