THE HOLIDAYS

  
I’ve missed out on so many holidays due to the military.  Most notable, this time last year I was in Iraq.  For Thanksgiving I was sitting in the chow hall with at least a thousand other soldiers.  For Christmas I was in my little two man room watching Frosty The Snowman with my fifty-six year old roommate from New York, it was freezing rain outside, and muddy.  On New Year’s 2010 my platoon was allowed to drink two beers, which was immediately followed by incoming enemy artillery.

    This year has been the polar opposite, and I have been blessed to be surrounded by the friends and family that I love, and show love back. 

    On Christmas Eve my best friend, Manolo, threw his usual party.  Even though he was disappointed that a lot of people flaked out, I thought that all the important people were there.  I got some facetime with Seba and Tim, who I don’t see as much nowadays.  Even Boris showed up, despite being busy with the newborn.  I bought Fleshlights for Manolo, Tim, Primo, and Seba.  It was the highlight of the night.  Those guys won’t have to use their hands anymore, and it’s all because of me. 

  
On Christmas day I went over to my sister, Michelle’s, house.  Randy, Jessica, and baby Jaya were there.  Jen, Helen, Nyk, and Naomi showed up, and then Lauren arrived later.  We watched the Lakers get demolished by the Heat-  so disappointing, but unfortunately expected. 
   
    Before Christmas I griped about the hassles of shopping for gifts.  When I got to see the look on my family members’ and friends’ faces, as they received them, I realized that it was all worth it.  They say, “it’s the thought that counts,” but this Christmas I also got exactly what I wanted, and I also got stuff that everyone actually wanted or needed.  It felt so good to actually get both of those things right. 

    The best gift of all was from my brother:  a high performance intermediate level short board.  For the last month I had been telling him that I wanted to buy a new board, and he told me “I wasn’t ready.”  He said that and found the time to get me a board with all the right dimensions for my height and weight.  I gotta love him for that.  That was the cherry on top for my Christmas, and Christmas was so good that I don’t even want ANYTHING for my birthday. 

   
At the end of the night Lauren and I still had a lot of gifts to open at the apartment.  Last year I had to give my Christmas wishes to her over a webcam, but I had the joy and privilege of watching her unwrap her gifts right there in front of me.  I took a lot of pictures.  She was happy with the HD Camcorder I got her, but her best gift was an iPad from her parents. 

    There were no corny shirts or lame ass presents this year.  She got me some good surf porn, a Nixon tide watch, a surfer’s journal, and a five-hundred page book on the history of surfing.  The only thing that was missing was my Mom who was stuck in Vegas because of their bad winter weather.  The only other thing that would’ve made Christmas perfect was if my Grandpa was still around.  I still miss him very much to this day.

    At the end of the night I held Lauren in my arms and told her to take a look around.  The lights were off, but the Christmas lights and decorations around the tree still shined bright.  I told her that we finally had our first Christmas together, and that we’ve made some awesome memories from it. 

    When I was watching the news they were showing soldiers eating their Christmas dinners overseas.  They were in the chow hall chewing … with blank expressions on their faces.  That was me a year ago.  I’m so glad that’s not me right now; I feel for those guys.  For a while I forgot what the holidays are all about.  Last year I didn’t even tell anyone it was my birthday.  If we were given time off I would just go back to my room and close the door.  I fooled myself and believed that the holidays were overrated.  I was wrong.  It brought people together.  I spent time with Lauren’s family, my childhood friends, surf friends, and my immediate family.  Positive greetings were given and received the whole time.  I got so many warm hugs, saw faces smile with full grills exposed, and heard endless laughter.  No one could put a price on that.  I also was in touch with other people that have been and still are going through hard times.  I’m in touch with reality now that I am truly blessed to have everything that I have now from Lauren, my family, friends, to my peace of mind, the opportunity to surf, and even the Ikea plastic chair that is under my brown ass.   I am still amazed with how well these holidays went.  My birthday is in two days; I don’t even want anything.  It can’t get any better than this.  I am ever so grateful.

DREAM CHRONICLES: GOING BACK TO IRAQ

    It’s 7:12 A.M., and I just got shaken out of my sleep by a bad dream.  I can’t go back to sleep, so I figured that I’d write about it.

    Strange as dreams usually are when nothing makes sense, there was one theme that stayed consistent throughout.  I was in some kind of drug store, like a CVS pharmacy.  My friend Benny T. was there, and we were packing up and getting ready to leave somewhere.  We were loading up an old four-door Benz, an early eighties model.  We had our duffle bags, ruck sacks, and all kinds of other gear.  We were loading up to join our unit to be mobilized to Iraq again.  Once the car was loaded I went back into the store and saw my little niece, Sophi, running around the store with my sister, Mikk, chasing after her.  I surprised Sophi and gave her a hug as she playfully laughed.  I was saying goodbye to Mikk and gave her a hug, too.  It was such an emotional exchange.  My aunt, Elsie, from Maui was also there, and she was cradling a newborn in her arms.  I said goodbye to her, too, then finally I gave Sophi a last hug.  I told my family that I loved them, that I’d write, and that I’d see them again when I got back.  Just as I said that, the thought of being back in harm’s way again came to mind.  I specifically asked them to check on my girlfriend, Lauren, for me while I was gone.  They said that they would.  A customer in the store saw us, and as I walked away my sister and aunt explained that I was getting deployed again.

    When I got out of the store, a yellow bus full of soldiers and the Benz pulled out of a gas station.  I ran and yelled out for them to wait.  Another car load with people arrived, it was the Ramos brothers and Bernie K.  They were yelling at me like they had room in their car, but the bus had already stopped for me.  When I got in the bus I saw all the people from my unit in there, but I also saw a friend from my first national guard deployment, Kurt K.  I remember he had his woodland BDU’s on, and it had specialist rank on them.

    We pulled into an airfield full of dead grass.  I was hungry as hell.  I said out loud, “I wish we had some food!” 

    Wong replied with, “Yeah, I wish!”

    There was gear all over the place, and we were all sitting on a long wooden picnic bench.  Our platoon sergeant, Wood, was sitting right in front of me.  I told him that I needed to talk to him.  Next thing I remember was we changed from sitting outdoors to being seated indoors in some dark restaurant.  I sat next to him as I said what was on my mind.  I told him that I don’t mind deploying with the guard, but that I expected that we would at least have a year off, at home, before we mobilized again.  I said that we haven’t even been home for five months, and now I was leaving.  I told him that I had no idea that when we were signing the paperwork during our drills that that this would actually happen.  I, then, told him that Lauren had just waited for me a whole year during the last deployment, and that she was going to have to be without me another year.  I said, “She’s waited for me longer than she’s been with me, physically!”

    Wood continued to eat his ribs, then he said that he could probably work something out when we got to our mobilization site.  I remember my eyes tearing up at the thought of Lauren.  It was that familiar feeling again of me being on the move, having no contact with her at all, missing her, and wondering what she was doing.  It was the same anguish that I felt when I was in the initial stages of deployment exactly a year ago to this day.  I was sad.  In the end of the dream, I found out that Wood was sending himself back home, and he didn’t keep his word. 

    I woke up to an aching left shoulder muscle, from my arm that lay behind my head, and to Lauren snoring away right there by my side.  I couldn’t believe that it was just a dream.  I was happy that it wasn’t real, but it was hard to come back to reality.  The emotions felt so real.  I stared at the time projected on the ceiling by my clock and let out a soft whimper.  The dream felt so real.   I have her, she’s back in my arms, and I’m back home, but I still can’t go to sleep.  I’ve had a couple dreams like this one already.
   

WHY VETERANS DON’T LIKE V.A. HOSPITALS: DENTAL

    When we demobilized, they told us that we could get a free dental cleaning at the VA.  Me being a cheap bastard, of course I jumped on that shit right away.

    I showed up this morning, and my appointment was at 8:30 A.M.  For two and a half hours straight, some 26 year old college chick from West L.A. College was poking and scraping at my gums the whole time. 

    She was cool, but it definitely felt like she was a student.  Her teacher would come, poke around my mouth, tell her what she missed, and leave the room.  While she was working on me, her classmates would randomly come by and ask for polishers, scrapers, attachments, etc. 

    I wasn’t sure what kind of damage was being done in my mouth, but when it was all over I saw that the gum around my teeth was now loose, flappy, and bloody. 

    When eleven o’ clock came around, I told her that I had to leave.  I had to skip on the fluoride treatment because there was no time.  She didn’t even offer me any mouthwash. 

    I have nothing personal against that girl.  All I’m saying is that the VA is BRUTAL.

PENIS ENLARGEMENT

    Alright, lets be honest here.  Almost every fucking guy out there would kill for a bigger dick.  I know, I know, there are some of you freaks of nature, heroes, living gods, champions, saviors that have a good eight, nine, or ten fuckin’ inches.  You guys are the blessed.  You guys are the product of what most men fear in the gym locker rooms when it’s “full frontal” time.  But the rest of us guys would jump at the opportunity to go “bigger.” 

    So my point is …  what the fuck is up with all of these penis enlargement pills and products and shit that you hear on the radio, see online, on T.V., etc.  NONE OF THEM FUCKING WORK!  Of course they don’t.  Do you realize that if they did work, that society as we know it would fucking change?  The secret would be out, every fucking guy would swear by it and tell every guy they know.  That shit would be flying off of the shelves.  Men wouldn’t wear loose fitting clothes anymore.  They’d wear fuckin’ shorts, pants …  fuck it, SPANDEX to show off the upgrade in their fucking drawers!  Guys wouldn’t give a shit anymore.  Every guy at the bar and club would have his dick out.  There wouldn’t be any nice guys left.  Why be nice when you have a huge dick? 

    They said that it was non refundable. …  Assholes.

I CAN’T STAND: TRAFFIC

    When you’re driving on the right lane and some asshole that’s parked opens his car door all the fucking way, to the point that you almost fucking hit it.  What the fuck is wrong with these people? 
   
    People that don’t use their car signals.  I’m sorry, but that shit irks the fuck out of me. 

    People that text and drive.  I hate those fuckers.  Ninety-nine percent of the time when I’m driving behind some fucking slow ass bastard, when I pass them up and look at them, they are fucking looking down at their phones.  The other one percent of the time, they are Asian.  Feel free to crash and die, but don’t slow the rest of us down in the process. 

    Why is it that every time I’m in the slow fucking lane and switch to another lane, the lane that I was in now speeds up, and the lane that I switched to comes to a halt. 

    You ever notice that using your turn signal in L.A. actually makes it harder to switch lanes?  Especially during rush hour traffic.  It seems that when other cars know you want to get over, they fucking speed up to take whatever space is there.  And at the same time I hate people that don’t use their signals … go figure.

    Motherfuckers with the loud ass music.  Yes, I was young once, but fuckin’ A.  When I’m sitting down in my apartment drinking a hot cup of coffee, I can do without feeling and hearing everything in my apartment vibrate.

MORE GYM SHENANIGANS 10/25/2010

I went to grab my iPod from my locker.  There was a guy getting undressed that had the locker right next to mine.  When I arrived I purposely chose a locker away from the seating in hopes that no one would end up next to me.  Sure as shit, I had to deal with a naked guy again.  I took what I needed and left.

After my poor excuse for a workout, I returned to the locker room.  And what the fuck?!  That same motherfucker must've just got out of the shower because I turned the corner just in time to see him bending over to do his combo.

What kind of a strange fate IS this for me?  Is part of God's plan for me to put me in awkward situations where I'm either staring at some guys cold clammy ass cheeks or someone's greasy sausage fresh from a session on the treadmill? 

You have to realize that the alignment of the planets, every single thing that I did this morning to scratching my itchy anus, to pressing the button on my K-cup coffee maker, to walking in the gym locker room all configured my timing to see this guy butt-naked, twice. 

Very odd ... very odd, indeed. ...  My destinty is to look at other guys' cocks, balls, and assholes all day long.  Maybe I need to change my career choice.

OLD NAKED GUYS AT THE GYM

      Really ... what the fuck is going on here?  There's always some random naked old fucking fart in the gym locker room that is booty butt naked, walking around, and not giving a shit.  Not even wearing any fucking shower shoes.  What the fuck is up with that?  I went to wash my hands after my workout, and sure as shit, there's this old bald White dude that looks like George Washington, saggy clammy ass cheeks right in front of me, and he's washing his underwear in the fucking sink?!  Does something happen when you are over the age of 55 that you just truly don't give a shit about anything?  Unbelievable.