27 Hours In A Sardine Can...

"Yep, that's right 27 mother fucking hours. I wish I could come up with a better way of putting it, but in this case I do think that the profanity is warranted.

So why don't I tell you all about my New Year's Eve this year. Now I am departing from the random bitching and moaning and the romantic sentiments expressed in my recent posts and I am getting back to my bread and butter of finding the humor in the most ridiculously fucked up situations that the Army can put together for me. Mostly because if I did not, I would promptly lose my mind. I mean more so than I already have.

So we had a mission today. Obviously, I cannot share the particulars, but I can share the generalities. So suffice it to say that a shit ton of vehicles were moving from one place to another and we had to make sure that they got from point A to point B safely. Now on the surface this is a very understandable thing. Making sure that the military's equipment is well taken care of, making sure that military personnel are well protected, making sure that the military's ability to conduct it's missions is ensured. All these things are great and admirable goals. However, that is what we were supposed to do prior to our, as I have called it in the past, "Colony O' Dickbags" got a hold of it."
Embrace the Suck