Blow Me Army

Chad didn't get home until 7 PM last night.

Why?

Because there's far too much hand holding and butt wiping at his unit. While back in the states (not deployed) these units are supposed to make time for family. Instead this unit is practically passing out coloring books that MUST be colored, in the lines, and handed in to be checked. It's infuriating. Last night I had like an hour with Chad. All because of the Chad's bosses need to micromanage bowel movements.

I need to complain about said things. Like most girls, I complain to my Mom. She's there to listen right? WRONG. She's been defending the 12 hours days as though that's normal. I explained about deployments and how that is hard on a family. She went so far as to say that when my father would travel on business it was practically the same! Really? Dad's trip to Texarkana is the same as going to Iraq and getting shot at? Somehow, I fail to make any real connection between the two. When Dad would drive from the hotel he was staying at to the job site, did he encounter many roadside bombs? What's that? Dad's company would pay for him to come home to see his family once a month? Yes. It's exactly the same Mom.

To this, I want to create my own script of things to say when I complain about the Army, and seeing my husband look like a beat down RSPCA animal with "The Arms of an Angel" playing in the background every time we make eye contact.

Acceptable responses include:
Dude. That sucks. The Army is a shit factory, and we can't wait for you guys to get out.

I hate the Army because of what they are doing to you. You have been through so much with them, and they just keep piling shit tacos on you.

There aren't many acceptable responses OTHER than agreeing with me.


Unacceptable responses include:
I can relate. My husband's desk job is exactly the same. They make him show up at 5:30 to go run, and oh wait....no they don't. Seriously. I am not cutting on desk jobs. It's just that Chad has a professional career. There's nothing going on to keep him there. Not only is he there, he's there for 12 freaking hours. It's just plain stupid.

The shit factory he works for is keeping the terrible people, and alienating the one's worth keeping. Does that frighten you? It should. He works with someone that has been in for 17 years, and can't qualify on a shooting range. That's like being a veterinarian for 17 years and not being able to locate a dog's butt hole.  Same same. But different.

I also have a couple of updates.

The shitbag neighbors we had that never mowed their lawn, and had that poor pitbull were evicted. Yesterday I saw lots of their stuff on the curb. So long dickbags! I've been googling the crap out of the house number to see if it's going up for sale or rent again. I want to set up the people that come view the house and either frighten them off with my Harry Caray impression, or bake them cookies depending on if I like them.

There are different types of roaches. The roach that caused my mental breakdown a couple months back was indeed an Woodland Cockroach. They live outside. I had one singular cockroach in my house, and I killed that MF.

Ants hate baking soda.