Apr 14, 2008 17:37
We’re heading south and things are getting toasty out.
Was up on the flight deck for a FOD Walk down. (Picking up bitty pieces of trash)
I swear they turn the boat so the sun is in your eyes and you have no choice but to look down. When you spend most of your time shut up in a tin can, even a cloudy day hurts your eyes. You feel like a WoW geek coming out of his parent’s basement for the first time in three months.
I think I might go find Jesus Sunday… Someone told me he’s hiding in a broom closet up on the 010.
E-mail hasn’t worked right since we got underway and it’s pissing me off. I send shit to Rachel and she doesn’t get it and I get everything from her at once.
Snail mail is even worse. Nothing goes in or out for another week at least.
This is my first time actually being “out” and this no comms thing is getting old.
But I guess it could be worse. I listen to the old salts talk about how it used to be. Send a letter out to their wife, wait a week, she gets it, wait another week for the response. Sometimes even worse.
When they did get e-mail, you had to type it up in a word document, keep it under 10K, save it on a floppy and take it to combat systems to send off. Then your reply would come in with everyone else and they’d print it off and stick it in your mail.
I had to do that on a Dutch ship for three weeks and it sucks.
We managed to get a washer and dryer unit for the shop but it’s not hooked up yet… I’ll have to fight with the other heathens down in laundry to wash my unmentionables today.
I may just say screw it and was colors with whites. This is a progressive navy anyway…
I wonder what we’ll be having for lunch today… Chicken or fish? Don’t eat the fish…
Like the fish, the navy’s soft serve ice cream makes my bowels churn.
We have a little fake plant in the tv studio that made its way up here some time back. I think I might start watering it like the captain in “Mr. Roberts.” (Old navy movie with Henry Fonda and Jack Lemmon)
I want… Rachel kisses…