Archive for July, 2011

It’s been a tragically unfunny week.

I haven’t blogged much and I know you’re all disappointed but I’ve been busy moving. Like into a new house which is awesome because it’s at the beach but we’ve moved 10 times and this one has been the worst move ever. Imagine what it might be like to hire a bunch of 6 year olds to package your stuff.  Yeah. I’m just glad it was on the government’s dime. And we only lived here for 3 days before I got flagged down in my 12 passenger van and asked if I could haul a bunch of guys to the ships because white 12 passenger Chevy vans are what the military uses around here to bus guys around. I’m now thinking I may have young sailor types asking me for rides all the time. The Rabbit might take issue with this.

Meanwhile, back in the Bermuda Triangle, the Rabbit has been busy dropping torpedoes on underwater alien colonies probably and wrestling 7 foot stingrays and snorkeling and finding me a big conch shell and apparently getting so much sun that he needed to go to bed at 7. 

I miss him.

That’s all I have to say. Hopefully I’ll be less tragically unfunny tomorrow and will be able to write you the most hilarious thing you’ve ever read. Or maybe not. I’m not promising anything people.

Okay, so I haven’t posted in a few days and I know you guys are all sitting on the edges of your seats waiting to hear the latest Rabbit in the Bermuda Triangle saga. Well, I’ve got some news for you and you better just hang onto your britches because what I’m about to tell you is totally The Monster at the End of This Book type stuff.

Remember how I talked about the giant people-eating owls that live on Andros Island in the Bermuda Triangle and how the Rabbit is in the Bermuda Triangle on Andros Island doing aquatic alien surveillance probably and we were all worried that he was going to get owl bit or something?

Well, here is the only owl the Rabbit has seen and I seriously don’t know what to think. Is this thing going to be doing any eating of people? Like the Rabbit?
Wait. Don’t owls eat stuff like Rabbits?
This isn’t looking too good I don’t think.

I’m still not convinced that this is the mythical Chickcharney but whatever because seriously, what kind of coincidence is it that I write a post about giant menacing owls and there just happens to be this thing living in the helicopter hangar the Rabbit walks around in every single day? The man LIVES on the wild side, I tell you.

Then the Rabbit got shot at with a styrofoam missile only he didn’t tell me it was styrofoam until after it happened so I went all day hoping and praying that he would do really well on the evading part of his helicopter flying exercise because people would be SHOOTING MISSILES AT HIM. After that he went snorkeling and the people told him, Watch out for sharks. And barracudas.

In other news, Craigslist is being a total jerk.

Also, I taste like bread. Or tea. Apparently I’m like a staple.

And, who can ignore this? I certainly can’t.

Google Maps proved itself awesome once again when I clicked get directions and then typed in that I wanted instructions on how to get from China to Taiwan which was a total lie because I have no desire to go to either of those places but I put it in anyway because I’m a sinner and Kait told me to and here is what good old Google came up with.

Also, direction number 49 seems kind of vague given the fact that I just SWAM ACROSS THE PACIFIC OCEAN. The upside to this is that the directions are written in half Chinese and half English so they can benefit just about everybody except those few people not fluent in both Chinese and English.

This is just a lawsuit waiting to happen, people.

I ran across some very informative articles and discussions about the military base the Rabbit has been sent to for a few weeks which is in the Bahamas on a base the government calls AUTEC and I don’t even know what that stands for but the place is known to conspiracy theorists as “just like Area 51 but different” and “is probably a stargate” and, as it turns out, the Rabbit is actually taking part in a secret government project to capture aliens from another dimension that know how to swim.  Probably.
Also, turns out he’s in the Bermuda Triangle on an island inhabited by giant troll owls who eat people and he doesn’t even know it and I can’t even call him to warn him because apparently phone calls are pretty much impossible except on special days and I can’t even make this crap up.

Baby, if you read this remember to keep a circle of ash with you at all times and for the love of all that is sane do not agree to push any buttons. Also, beware of bald men in fedoras.

So, a week or so ago the Rabbit convinced me to sit in his helicopter and I was sure I had gone 25 years back in time because it all looked very Atari and I decided right then and there that flying in a helicopter is on my least favorite things to do list because Atari was very pixely and unrealistic and I don’t ever want to feel like that. I’m not saying I don’t like Ataris, I’m just saying that I don’t want to be flying around in one.  So I sat there and pretended and the Rabbit took some pictures of me with my phone and I almost broke the Navy and now I’m typing this blog post a week later and I don’t have much else to say about the whole event except, dang I was having a good hair day.

And also, It has become obvious that the Rabbit doesn’t know me very well because this is how he imagines me to look while flying a helicopter:

This is how I imagine me to look while I fly a helicopter: (much more realistic)

image

I promise I was not really flying in either of these photos and if you look closely at each picture you will see strong indications that we are, in fact, still inside the hangar.  I don’t fly. And I have no desire to anger the government. You know, assuming the government reads my blog.

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that I was surrounded by snakes and had possibly murdered Santa I really had to go pee and the Rabbit forced me to use the men’s head because, There’s no girl’s head on this floor, and that doesn’t sound bizarre at all and I thought once again that this is really not somewhere I should be ever. 

But at least I got to fly. Pseudoly (can I say that?).

Can you guess what this is?

If you guessed a fence post you’re way off. Also, you should probably have your eyes checked.  If you guessed bacon jam I would be impressed because it is, in fact, jam made out of bacon and I created it myself using this recipe, my crock pot, and two glorious pounds of bacon.

Seriously, I don’t think people understand how far you can take bacon. It’s like the most versatile meat out there yet nobody even knows it but me because I research these things people because I know what I want and it’s bacon. I also found out that, when used correctly, bacon can even stop war. And cure vegetarianism.

This all came straight out of The Urban Dictionary so you know it must be true.

P.S. I’m not sure the amount of sugar and apple cider vinegar the recipe calls for is necessary. I liked it, but when I make it again I’ll be using just half of what the recipe says for those two ingredients so you may want to keep that in mind if you try this recipe.  I’m not trying to boss you around or anything so don’t get your panties in a wad.

P.P.S. I found out today that my dog self is a bulldog who is a natural comedian and works as either a racecar driver or bartender. So that explains absolutely nothing.

While I was visiting the Rabbit’s squadron last week he took me into this room that was filled with computers and a microwave and filing cabinets that had massive locks on them because they are supposedly filled with all of the Navy’s secret state of the union type stuff that I’m pretty sure is code for many-decks-of-playing-cards but whatever because right in the middle of everything was an empty Santa suit.

The Rabbit got busy ignoring me because he (allegedly) had ”work” to do so I just kind of poked around at Santa’ s clothes for any evidence of a left over person because I watch Fringe, people, and I know what can happen. 

Then I threw all caution aside and put the Santa suit on because, HELLO!  It’s a Santa suit y’all! Just laying around in the squadron! In July!  Who wouldn’t put this on?

Then I realized that my impulsive nature might have ruined me again when I remembered that when you find an empty Santa suit and put it on that makes you like the murderer of Santa or something and then you magically become the new Santa and that’s kind of scary because no way do I want to FLY AROUND ON A SLED IN THE FREEZING COLD. I know y’all are starting to think that I’ve gone loopy and you’re probably right but still. They made a movie about this so it must be legit.

At least I won’t have to feel guilty anymore about eating all the cookies.

Also, does this mean I get my own reindeer?

It was a bad idea from the start.

The Rabbit’s helicopter is kept in a very formidable garage that smells of an odd mix of metal, gray paint, and guy and seriously, I shouldn’t have even been in there and I had to keep telling myself that it was abandoned for the holiday weekend and, really, what could happen?
Well, either the place is haunted and/or I happened because it was either me and/or a ghost who pretty much ruined one of the helicopters. It practically fell apart right in front of me, people. Like an actual helicopter. A Seahawk helicopter. Like the Black Hawk only more Navy and more better.

My husband flies these things, yall. And they pay him for it.  He’s pretty much amazing.

So I don’t even know what it was or how it happened but I looked at this red thing which in turn made something fall off of the helicopter which in turn made this obnoxiously loud clanging noise that echoed for like 3 minutes and my first instinct was to run which is why I didn’t get a picture.

And the Rabbit was laughing a little and shaking his head and saying, It’s just the plug to the mission avionics cooling fan, but that only made the whole thing sound worse and I wondered why he wanted to rub it in that I was probably going to spend the better part of the rest of my life at Leavenworth but he leaned down and fixed it and this is why I love him.

I wish I could say that was all and nobody was the wiser but I can’t because the awful noise drew the attention of a severe looking young man in a camouflage uniform who didn’t say anything to me but definitely let me know he was there because he totally followed me like I was some kind of teen-aged hoodlum and the Rabbit wasn’t even in his uniform so we both probably looked like hoodlums.  

It was almost suspenseful.

Note to self: Stay far away from giant military equipment and/or avoid possibly haunted helicopter hangars.
Second note to self: Add EMF meter to shopping list.

So I tried to write this post like 6 times already and it’s just not coming together like I want it to.  I think it’s because I’m trying to squeeze too much awesome into one post and I blogged it late last night and I’ve modified it about 16 times since then and it had fail written all over it. Also, most of the revisions were done at 2 am which means I was insomnia-writing which means that most of it probably didn’t make any sense anyway so you didn’t miss anything but a probable headache.
So I’m writing it again and for some reason I’m feeling defensive about this so. I have issues, people. I know this.

What I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to blog about is a trip I took to the Rabbit’s helicopter squadron on Friday.  This is a big deal because the Rabbit and I have completely different ideas about what goes on there.  I’ve long been convinced that the only thing he does at work when he’s not flying around in his little helicopter is sit around and play cards and eat and he has long been trying to convince me that his helicopter is not little and he does actually do work at work and he never even has time to eat.

And I was so occupied with Santa Clause that I totally forgot to look for playing cards. They probably hide those from the wives anyway and I expected that and this only serves to prove me right when you think about it. 
And what are with the unrealistic snakes painted everywhere? And there is this one who’s even dressed in a flight suit and he’s smiling and has his thumb sticking up and that doesn’t even make any sense because snakes don’t even have thumbs.  Also, I’ve never seen a snake wear clothes before.

This is absurd, people.

Also, I almost broke the Navy. And I may or may not be the new Santa. Those posts are coming and I’ll make something awesome out of all this yet. Probably.

Don’t you feel silly now?

Dear Person With Your Sexy Written In White Paint Across Your Car’s Rear Window,

Fail.
It’s a contraction.  You Are. You’re.
You’re welcome.

(See how I just did that?)

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