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Sorry I haven’t been around. Just been busy and passing out all of a sudden a lot.
Had my birthday, which was nice. Wissle (buddy from work) came up and we did some drinking and serious bullshitting. It was good to catch up with him. Then we made mojitos all night and played Wii and LIFE (hurf durf) until we passed out. Then Tiffany and myself went to BJs Brewery. I had got pretty tanked off their delicious beers and had some fish tacos.
Today I went and signed up for kung fu lessons. So I will let you know how that works out.
Or is it chingadero? Ah fuck it. Chingao.
Anyway, I don’t know where the time went. I passed out last night and that was it, and now here it is almost one and I’m like holy shit, where did all my time go?
Anyway, I made some delicious crab soup. Back to bed now. Gotta be up early to defend Amercuh from terroristas.
The roughest thing about coming of a three day weekend is the turn around. Got about 90 minutes of sleep last night and I am beat right now. Took Remington for a walk and now I’m going to bed.
Work was a SHIT VORTEX. Glad I managed to avoid the station.
Did nothing but sit around and dick off. Went to Sauce for dinner with Tiffany. It was damn good. I notice that there are many restaurants with what I think of as a “west coast” configuration because I don’t see them out east. Order your food, sit down, and they bring your food to you. Pei Wei, Chilpolte, Sauce are just to name a few. All pretty dang good.
Starting phase two of P90x. Its a workout!!!!
Looking at airline prices right now before starting ab ripper X. I want to go back to old country (delaware) this May and I am comparing prices. Looks like Delta/US/United et al all have better prices than Southwest but I know I am going to get gouged going in and coming out. Fuck that noise. Thankfully I can fly armed (!!!) and avoid all the nonsense with security and stripping down to my asshole so some fat woman in a hijab can stare at me.
Everytime I hear a song from The Fame, I get to thinking about driving to Alburquerque by my lonesome on the weekend while I was at the academy. It was always at night, and the fields were lonely as hell. Driving from Artesia to Clive’s Corner was a long drive, and you’d be lucky if you saw more than three cars in 130 miles. A lot of the time it was snowing. When you come into ABQ, you drive down through the mountains and into a valley, and it really does look pretty magnificent when you hit it at night. Spreads out for forever. Phoenix does the same thing sorta when you come down from Flagstaff, but this looks much more impressive in my minds eye.
Let’s see, there was a Jasmine, an I forget, an Elaine, another I forget (but she was a Desi so whoo), a Kate, and a Hazel. I remember going up on Universal drive and seeing the whole city spread out under me while driving to another bad romance.
I still can’t hear some of those songs without either thinking of riding on a shitty bus to or from Roswell or placing my hand against the window of the rental I was driving just to have a contrast between the warm car and the wind outside. Driving through towns where the water was gone and they had died but they didn’t know it yet and being intensely creeped out.
What a mistake. I haven’t pinged that badly in crowds since about forever. The entire time I’m telling myself stupid stupid stupid, not bringing something with me in case shit hits the fan. Of course, there’s a large part of me that realises how silly that thought is, but then there’s a larger part that says NO YOU IDIOT YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THE WORLD IS NOT A FRIENDLY PLACE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
However.
There were a bevy of nice looking girls dressed up as renaissance whores. Call em dancers, gypsies, wenches, whatever, there was a lot of skin on display and a surprising amount of it was lovely. On the other hand there were the people who take this shit way too seriously and look like a tent with boobs. Two steps forward, one back, I guess.
There are a lot of trashy looking people who go to these things! It is like Wal Mart on a much grander scale. I have never seen so many young people riding around on scooters, or three generations of morbidly obese sitting around a table.
Unrelated Protip: If you are going to be Sir Siegland Nighthawk, you should probably take the bluetooth out of your ear.
Had a “turkey” leg, which was actually ham. Hope no one was keeping kosher! I got about ten bites out of the thing before it became more of a problem to eat than it was worth, and chucked it. About an hour later it felt like someone had grabbed my guts and twisted. Whoops. Was hoping there’d be some fried coke about, but no such luck. I’d still like to try that. I know I was just bitching about fat Americans but hey fried coke does sound pretty good.
If some of my work needs editing, its because I haven’t done so myself. I just read through a bit of the last one and noticed more than one adverb misplacement and some other minor punctuation issues. Apologies to all involved.
Kipling saw the two platoons that Ianviur had avoided before they saw him. Between his assault armors shifting camoflague and Delah’s own scales, they would be so much darkness. Talking through his radio, Kipling killed the glow off his dreamblade. “Do you see them? That’s a lot of trouble just running through the woods,” he said.
“Aye, sure do. How do you want to do this? Looks like they’ve bunched up into a big formation instead of keeping their distance,” said the dinosaur, pulling up as they made their battle plan and activating a cool spot to mask their heat signature.
Passed out pretty hard last night. My days of going to bed at one and waking up at six finally caught up with me and I was in bed by seven.
So some neat news. Seems like there’s an opening on the MSS unit, so I put in for that and don’t see why I shouldn’t get tapped. Finished first responder today. It was a good class and I learned a lot. I look forward to taking the opportunity to get EMT training through the BP.
More story soon.
Ianviur wondered where all this heavy ordnance was coming from. He knew the forces had been scattered taking the planet thanks to solar winds ruining their projected drops, but his luck in having a Bladejaw and a Lancer backing him up was unbelievable. It was then he heard the thrumming sound of Naith jump jets that seemed to cut through the grav turbines. He tossed the limp form of the strategos in one of the drooping trees and turned to see his enemy.
Their exhaust jets seemed to be as numerous as the stars as they dropped in, and Ianviur braced himself as he realised his luck had just soured.
~
Dragoon-Master Sergeant Kipling stopped at the second explosion, Delah pulling up sharply as well. Her large talon flexed soundlessly against the thick peat moss that was underfoot. His mirrored visor flicked towards the sound, the black mirrored surface giving no hint of the lines of information streaming on the underside. “Partner, what do you think is going on over there?” he asked as the distinctive roar of a Bladejaw followed by the bellow of an extremely pissed off Lancer echoed through the night.
Delah spoke through her vox, her voice feminine but with a quick patter. “All hell is breaking loose, Kip, is what it sounds like. I’m trying to raise whoever is over there refighting the liberation of Terra but there’s too much static in the air from the gravs going down. If that’s what it was,” she said. The allaraptor shifted, and sniffed the air towards the sound of the fighting, her nostrils flaring. “Naith blood is on the air and….There’s a little brother over there,” she said. Her talons quivered again, and she began to pick up the pace, drawn towards the blood.
They had been together long enough that Kipling knew what this meant, and grabbed the hilt that protruded over one shoulder. The blunt, narrow piece of metal seemed unremarkable for a second before it came to life, becoming a thick machete like blade with a spike protruding horizontally from the tip of the sword towards him. Perfect for chopping strikes on the back of his comrade, this configuration of the dreamblade allowed him to perform a wicked backhand if necessary. It rippled with the color of freshly spilled blood, Kipling’s emotions and battle joy being the fuel that allowed him to mold his weapon as necessary for battle.
Catch a fistful of sky 