mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- JP ponders more about the Air Force Contrary to what I thought before I wrote my last immunity challenge, some of the judges actually do read the diaries before they vote them for immunity! Actually... my goal for writing that immunity challenge was to see if I could get mentioned in the Survivor Judges blog. Mission completed and successful. And now, on to the rest of you who care nothing about Diary Survivor 3!! By the way... I didn't mean anything personal to any of the judges. I know one of them -- well... I read her diary daily and converse with her when I can. I really was just trying to rile some of you up. And again... looks like it worked. Remember me telling you about my George Carlin of a Shakespeare teacher? He puts up with nothing. I think he gets pleasure out of calling me a smart-ass. He's the hard-ass's hard-ass. And I think he's my favorite all-time teacher. I noticed that he had a... umm... "dent"? on his forhead. But I thought it was there because he hit his head on something. Actually, I never really stopped to consider what it was. I just recognized that there was a scar and didn't think much more about it. Last night, during break, he made some kind of joke and pointed to his scar. I asked what his scar was, and his answer? He was shot in the head during Viet Nam! Holy F'n Shit! No wonder he doesn't feel like putting up with any kind of bullshit from any of us. If I was shot in the head, you'd better believe I wouldn't put up with very much at all. Damn. How could people back in those days not think of our soldiers as heros? The way I think about it now -- with our soldiers in Afghanistan and all -- is that they are over there getting shot at and feeling miserable at times so that *I* don't have to. Anybody who puts themselves in harm's way for me is a hero, in my book. I told him I thought he was amazing. He called me a sappy-ass and told me to shut the hell up. Gawd, I love that teacher. The meeting with the Air Force officer recruiting guy went really well. Much better, I think, than with the enlisted recruiter. This guy didn't seem half as much as a used car salesman as the other guy. I had to go to the officer recruiter to realize, though, that I may go in as enlisted. Again, that is if I do, in fact, join. My friend Wtin is trying to talk me out of it. And my Shakespeare Teacher said that he would rather suck on frozen dog shit before joining the military again. Kewwwwwwl! But if I join enlisted, I would try to get a job as an Aeromedical Apprentice. That would have me flying all over the world, and I would get to take care of people. And Wtin said, if I can handle emptying a bed pan and wiping someone's butt, I can do it. As long as I can wear a nose clip. I can't handle the smells. Then the Air Force will pay for all of my schooling if I wanted to get a nursing degree. If I did that, I could become an officer. Then I'd be set. Oi. Does anyone know where I can find a practice ASVAB (or whatever they're called) test online? I never took it in high school. Long story. Wow. Not much goes on during my weekly weekend. I wish I had something interesting to tell ya. But I don't. I may go walking again today. Umm... That's it. Oh. I'm going to see the St. Louis Cardinals play the Houston Astros next Saturday at Busch Stadium in -- you guessed it -- St. Louis. We've already established that I'm not a sports fan. But golly-wolly, I sure do love me some live baseball. I get as giddy as a nun driving a stick-shift every time I get tickets. There is magic in the hot dogs and hamburgers, camaraderie delivered by the Beer Man, and a sense of unity between you and the 30,000 other fans when someone hits a home run. "Take me out to the ball game," indeed. 11:00 a.m. - Fri, April 5, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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