mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Lez le bon temps roulet! (not yet...)

I had a whole list of things to do yesterday.

I woke up early around noon, got showered and dressed. I wrote down a detailed list of things I needed to do. I got checks and bills in order of their location so I could zig-zag through town with the utmost efficiency and speed.

The first thing I needed to do was go by my recruiter's office to ask a few questions. Our Delayed Entrance Processing (DEP) meeting is this weekend. This is where all of the DEP people get together and sometimes do something fun (Lazer Tag, for example) and sometimes do something boring (fold shirts and learn how to stand at attention). All I needed to do was go by and ask my recruiter what time we had to arrive at his office. That's it. This was around 1:30.

I left his office at around 5:15 later on that evening.

He wasn't there when I arrived. Since I wasn't in a huge hurry, I just sat around and talked to the other recruiter in the office. He's a cool cat, and he bought me a beer last week. So, I figure I have to be at least a little amiable.

My recruiter got in the office at around 2:30, and I ended up chitchatting with him for yet another hour. I had the whole afternoon, I figured, and I wasn't in a huge hurry. I would leave soon and go run my errands. Oh, and get something to eat because I had yet to eat all morning.

Well, at 3:30, the three Air Force recruiters in the building got interested in the shooting targets I was showing off. If you don't remember, my Air Force bud and I went shootin' and drinkin' last week, and I kept the targets.

The targets were caricatures of Saddam Hussein with a big, evil grin, and the targets were called "Insane Hussein." They were fun to shoot at. Beats the concentric circles of your more traditional targets.

Anyway, so the recruiters got the itching to shoot off some rounds themselves, and they "recruited" me to sit in the office and answer phones for them for the hour they would be gone.

Well, they got back at around 4:30. Great. I had thirty minutes to pay bills, buy a certain travel buddy a birthday card, go see if the used CD store had a John Prine CD I wanted (they didn't), go rent my storage unit�

Then I sat and listened to their shootin' stories. That took me nicely into 5:00 when I finally left.

My question is� when I finally get into the Air Force, will I get as much done then as I do now when I spend all day hanging around my recruiter? If so, this is going to be an easy job.

I cleaned out my utility closet and my storage room last night.

I keep finding traces of Mandy the Psycho Lesbian Ex everywhere I clean up. She's like a bad case of fleas: you just can't get rid of her no matter how hard you try. Hopefully by the time I leave this apartment I will be completely free of her presence. Yech!

When I was cleaning out my storage room, I found a box full of old decorations I used to keep on my bookshelf when it wasn't full of schoolbooks. Basically, it was a bunch of toys. Some of you who have access to my webcam got to watch me play.

But one of the things I found was an old "fishing"-style hat I got from a St. Louis Cardinals game. I was wearing my glasses at the time, and so when I put the hat on, I looked spookily similar to Donald Sutherland in M*A*S*H. Which was cool.

Umm. That's it. No point to the story. I just looked like Donald Sutherland. The end.

People are calling for a boycott on everything French�

Hmm. I'll wait until I'm out of Canada.

Well, I need to sign off so I can actually run the errands that I was supposed to run yesterday. Damned Air Force recruiter.

Between damning my Air Force recruiter and right now, I just spent about thirty minutes trying to contact someone from the government who would tell me what kind of information I would need to get back into the States. I think everyone in the Border Patrol is so afraid of giving wrong information and getting fired that they just opt for giving no information.

If things don't go just right, I may be speaking French here in a few weeks.

11:03 a.m. - Tues., Mar. 11, 2003

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