“It’s All Shite, Innit?”

Today’s title comes courtesy of L who’s been heard to exclaim it several times over the last few days. Fresh from her honeymoon (Congratulations!), she’s determined to eat healthily and, sadly, the DFACs aren’t cooperating. While the rest of us don’t share her complete disgust with this week’s fare (in fact, some of it was KAF-excellent), her comments do capture the overall essence of life in KAF…particularly during these last several days of my roto. So, off we go on the rollicking adventure that was our KAF life this past week. But first, how about another Toyota Surf with attachment issues:

You picked a fine time to leave me loose wheel.

“Frus”tration

Unbelievable.

My theory that Toyota pawns off their factory seconds on third world countries was bolstered by a another bit of evidence today. I’d seen this Toyota “Frus” around a couple of times before but was never able to get out my IPod, steer, shift, and snap a photo quickly enough. Fortuitously, it was parked outside the TLS today as I visited that august building on a matter of utmost bureaucratic importance. I’m not sure that the giant “Frus” decal was put on at the factory but whoever did it: Seriously? That passed QC? Must be the same guy that inspects the ball joints.

Safety First, Reason Last

That’s a bit much, doncha think?

Hey, I’m all about workplace safety. I’m forever telling our techs not to lick the hydraulic fluid and to stop playing with the cobras. Compared to COMKAF, however, I’m a regular Evel Knievel. I wouldn’t, for example, think it necessary to have traffic slow down from 40KPH to 20 KPH on the through street just because there’s a cross street up ahead; particularly when the cross street has not one, but two, stop signs. Speaking of ridiculously low speed limits, KAF used to have quite a lot of wild rabbits running about. One day, in a 20KPH zone, I saw a rabbit which had been killed by a car in the middle in the road. That hadda been one slow goddamn rabbit.

Comestible Commentary

Yup. There’s banana in it.

As mentioned, L is having a hard time lowering her culinary standards to the degree necessary to happily resignedly accept DFAC fare. Fortunately for the rest of us, her bitter commentary is pretty amusing. She was quite disappointed by the “Banana Pudding” at the Monti tonight as it turned out to be vanilla pudding with one lonely slice of banana on top. However, she did find it preferable to the Northline’s “Banana Pudding” that she had attempted to eat at lunch and which she referred to as “regurgitated rotten bananas”. That pudding was “shite”.

L doesn’t care for fish and, as part of her eating system, is avoiding red meat. The ham and Swedish meatballs at lunch and the trout and “Texas Style” corned beef at dinner didn’t leave her much choice so she had a sandwich at both meals. The sandwich at the Monti looked pretty good. “How’s your sandwich”, I asked. “Shite” was the immediate response disturbingly followed by a somewhat maniacal laugh. The corned beef and the trout were both KAF-excellent. L insisted, however, that “corned beef doesn’t look like that in England”. S, M and I vigorously defended the normality of our meal’s appearance. “No, corned beef comes in a can, for starters”, she persisted. “No wonder the Empire is shrinking”, observed M. “You’re all bloody wrong and you’re starting to annoy me”, L declared, dismissing us with a regal wave of her hand. “After 3 years, I’m just starting to annoy you? I annoy most people much more quickly than that,” I observed.

The TV’s in the Monti tonight were on the Disney Channel. I began thinking “Jesus, how young are the Yanks recruiting people these days? The Disney Channel? Pfft…that’s ridiculous, we’re adults in a goddamn war zone”. My smugness diminished, however, as I found my eyes consistently drawn to the drama unfolding on the screen. M and L’s ongoing corned beef debate faded into the background. As M asked for my support of his assertion the British corned beef is Spam, I snapped “Shh…that girl’s getting mad at her boyfriend because he’s ogling Lemonade Mouth‘s singer”. I wonder how it ended…the movie, not the debate. That will carry into tomorrow, I’m sure.

After dinner tonight, L asked that we stop at the PX so she could get some Twizzlers since her “dinner was shite”. The PX was out of Twizzlers. “It’s shite, it’s all shite, innit.”

Last night we went to the Lux. I don’t even remember what I ate. I do recall, however, that L was rather put out by the decor. Sure, I had some numerically-based issues with it when it first appeared but I found the faux-doors rather amusing. Not L. She thought they were ridiculous and wondered how much it cost to get actual doors to KAF just to glue them to a wall. “It’s stupid”. “I think they’re there to give the place a homey feel and make people more relaxed”, suggested M. “No man, they’re stressing me out. And the shutters are too small to cover the windows even if you could close them. It’s shite and me dinner was shite” she concluded. We demurred.

After dinner at the Lux, S took us all out to Downtown to celebrate his and L’s successful completion of a 5k run that morning. I haven’t eaten at this place since it was the French PX and, while the menu is largely the same as it was, it is really good. I particularly liked its professional appearance and the complete absence of spelling and grammar mistakes on their glitzy electronic menu.

S, in a effort to replace every single calorie he ran off that day had a piece of carrot cake and an iced chocolate drink. L also had the carrot cake while M had the Cheesecake Brulee. I had a Honeydew/Watermelon Freeze. As we sat outside enjoying our treats, L asked why I didn’t get some cake. “I didn’t want a whole bunch of sugar”. “Your drink has about 9 spoons of sugar in it”,  L informed me with touch too much glee in her voice. “No it doesn’t. It’s just fruit and ice”. “You wouldn’t like it if it didn’t have sugar in it. I’ve seen him make them. There’s sugar in it alright.” Having had my self-righteous bubble burst, our conversation somehow morphed into one about sugary breakfast cereals. L had the audacity to say Froot Loops were, of course, “shite”. “What about Apple Jacks?”, I enquired. “They’re shite too and they’re banned in England” she informed us. “How can you ban Apple Jack’s? They’re cinnamon toasty, that’s where it’s at.” I countered. “Well, they have”. “Who the hell decides what to ban? The fucking Central Committee of the People’s Breakfast Cereal?,” I went on, “ What about Lucky Charms? They couldn’t have banned them. They’re magically delicious. What kind of monster would ban something that’s magically fucking delicious? Besides, they’re Irish…part of Ireland is still in the goddamn British Empire. You can’t fuck with a leprechaun! Gaah! The government tells you what you can and can’t eat? Why did you even bother fighting the Nazis?” As my rant wound down and I paused to take a breath, L smilingly added “Twinkies are banned too”.

Beef Salad sandwich and the ubiquitous stir fry at the Far East.

As S and I stood at the self serve sandwich bar in the Far East a few nights ago, I eyed the Tuna Salad, the Beef Salad and the Pork Salad. Tuna seemed too safe. Pork seemed not safe enough. “I’m gonna try that beef salad…how bad can it be?” I said. “Good luck with that”, said the US Army dude in front of me. Ya know what? It was pretty damn good and caused me to suffer only mild gastric distress the following day.

M was at the Northline for breakfast the other day and, as he does most days, he put some raisins from the salad bar on his cereal. The American beside him excitedly exclaimed “Hey, what an awesome idea!” Some people are easily impressed. You ought to patent this M…maybe put the raisins right in the cereal box or something.

Car Talk

On the drive tonight:
Me: some inanity I don’t really recall
L: “Oh, my gosh”
Me: “Gee whiz”
M: “Golly gee”
Me: “Darn it”
M: “It would probably be a nicer world if people actually still spoke like that rather than swearing all the time”
L:”Yes. And once someone starts swearing they’ve admitted they’ve lost the argument, haven’t they?”
Me: “Fuck off. You’re both wrong”.

Not Sure How I Feel About This

I got a hit on my blog from someone in Syria the other day. I envision two possible scenarios:
1. Dude is sitting at home. Assad’s artillery is shelling his neighbourhood. He’s desperately trying to update his blog to make the world aware of the war crimes he is witnessing. He googles “rockets” to gather some info. He comes upon my blog. “Haha…they call their toilets rockets and there’s poo on the seat. Oh look! They have a TGI Friday’s in Kandahar. Well, I never….” He never writes his story and Assad’s genocide goes forever unpunished.
2. Dude is sitting at home. Assad’s artillery is shelling his neighbourhood. Guy googles “shitholes” to see if anywhere compares to Syria. He comes across my blog and thinks “At least I’m not that guy…”
Either one kinda sucks….

Bottom Line

I’m sure L will perk up once she’s been broken again.

“Oatmeal’s really quite sickly, innit?” – L