Rock Ness Monster

Apologies for the crappy cell phone video quality but this boy is too cool for school.

R.H.I.P.*

My car was looking a bit more squalid than ususal when I parked it in front of the Security Forces building. It had received a precision bombing run from a pack of winged vermin earlier in the day. I was on post to attend a squadron meeting and for some reason the four towering cadets in front of me were not being screamed at by NCOs or bashing the square.

It wouldn't be the first time I caught a few youngfellas arsing a crafty fag.

One of them looked like he swallowed the smoke whole when I rolled up.

Trying to break the ice another one flapped his arm at my car.

"Looks like you'll need a car wash Ma'am."

The words were barely out of his mouth before the other three began the inaudible moan that would turn to "Stoopid muthafuckah" as soon as I was out of earshot.

"Splendid idea Cadet! The four of you should have it done in no time. Carry on."

They did a good job too.

* Rank Has It's Privileges

Huck Finn and Deco Sawyer

Happy Birthday America! X

A Heavy Day In DC

I began my 'day' to this.

Herself was at work downtown and even though neither of us use the Red Line frequently you just never know.

Tragedy visits us here in Washington from time to time and this has not been the first time I've anxiously awaited a call.

I tried her cell and it dumped into voicemail . Nothing unusual there I told the scrabbling and as yet unformed fears that rose out of my mind like a miasma.

Then I tried her office. Same deal. No biggie. She might have stepped away for a minute. I leave a message asking her to call me back. You have nearly five and a half million people in the Washington Metropolitan area according to my rational mind. The trains were coming in to the city. Why would she be on one of them? Still though...

I can't help flashing on 9/11 and pulling up to the Springfield station to see her sitting on the kerb. Safe and sound. On that terrible day she had been at the Pentagon City station when the plane hit the Pentagon (one stop along the line). We held each other for a long time.

I'm snapped out of it by my phone and all of the fears and doubts are evaporated when I see it's her number.

"Hi..I got your message. I'm fine. What happened?"

"Hiya. Bad accident on the Red Line...I just wanted to...you know.."

"I know."

Afterwards I sat on the steps our back yard with my tea and watched the fireflies in the twilight.



Update: Death toll is now 9 according to CNN

The Replacement Killer

I don't normally leave my building during the course of my 'day'. The Entity I work for is a little touchy about security and a forgotten ID or proxy card can leave the inattentive out on the sidewalk. Managers have to be roused from their slumbers and promises of proper bollockings made before I make the sheepish trudge back to my desk.

In short it's a pain in the hole.

Every now and again though I have to deal with a complete fuckbake of a client and an escape becomes necessary. One of our people in the Middle East (can you guess which country?) wanted admin rights to install an unlicensed bit of software she had picked up in the local fucking bazaar. SMS push and/or diplomatic pouches being 'unacceptable and ridiculous options'.

Um...that would be a 'No'.

Half an hour of histrionics (from the client) later I deploy the I'm Telling Teacher option and all resistance is crushed. Sweetness and light is restored and there is suddenly a 'pressing need' and a willingness to 'take another look at the options'. What was previously ridiculous now became 'very doable' and I fucked off for a bit of a break.

At 3 AM the 7-11 on 19th St. is probably the best defended convenience store in the city. When I walked in the door I counted no fewer than 7 cops from nearly as many agencies. That Slurpee machine is se-fucking-cured ! It was like that scene in Reservoir Dogs when Tim Roth walks into the jacks filled with cops. Two University cops (GWU) were covering off the snack cakes and a Metro P.D. cop was throwing shapes with a couple of comely students. A Smithsonian cop was explaining to beardy student type that the exhibits don't actually come to life at night.
There was even a stormtrooper from the Secret Service in full ninja/batman gear in the queue with an ice-cream cone. Sort of spoiled the effect there.

The usual bum/wino/student matrix was a bit more subdued than normal because of this Peeler Party. I wasn't in the mood to be fending off panhandlers nicely but I could feel a pair of eyes on me all the same. Now if a have a bit of change I'll part with it gladly but there have been times when the two or three bucks in a bum's cup is a bit more than my net worth. Sometimes though you just don't want to deal with it. I did a quick circle of the coffee bar and fixed a Bill Hicks-sized coffee. Instead of a bum it turned out to be a somewhat familiar face in a very familiar uniform.

"Sarge? Is that you?"

This particular Pauncho Villa was the man who filled my old position back at the Hangar. He had lamped me right enough. Chalk one up for his observation skills.

"Not anymore Pauncho."

Then it got weird. He went from coffee grabbing slouch to the Field Interrogative Stance (hands loosely clasped over belt buckle yet very close to the things ON the belt, a slight turn to the side and keeping a very specific distance between us.) I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Like that now is it?" I ask.

"Like what?"

"Good luck to you now Pauncho. I'd say "Be careful out there" but I can see you already are."

" Aww Sarge....Don't be like that."

" I'm a Sergeant no more. Thank Fuck."

Contra-Versa

This little list has been bouncing around in my otherwise empty head these last few days. I should say right from the outset that it is not meant as a whinge or a shopping list of regret. It was actually a bit of a laugh for a couple of them.

Just a few facts. That's all.

I am a woman until I speak on the phone. Then it's 'sir' 100% of the time.
Both my parents are alive but they have made me an orphan.
I'm an only child with two siblings.
I 've fathered three kids but I'm female.
I can be legally fired in 30 US states for being gay and/or transgendered. I do not work in any of the 30.
I can marry a man in Virginia but in Texas (of all places) I can only marry another woman. The Lone Clue State allows marriage between genetic males and genetic females. As my genes were not changed...........
I am Irish. Unless I'm being American that week.
I am physically burned out. Mentally I'm in better shape.
I am a blogger but increasingly have less and less to say.
I'm stone broke but in my friends I have a Golconda.
I am not alone but I am lonely.

Earlier this week I held my friend's new born baby in my arms and was completely present for them in their joy. There were no ifs, ands nor buts about my total happiness and sincere love for them all. I was no longer a partial presence, a bulky shade of myself, in my friend's contentment.

I have no rational basis for this but I am going to make it. Maybe not the way I had hoped or planned or even imagined for that matter. It might get messy and confusing and seven kinds of fucked up but that's OK. It's just stuff. No matter how bad it gets it cannot be as bad as what went before.

I'm a woman with a fucked-up past but a future of some type awaiting her. Just like everyone else.

The trick is getting past this stern present.

While We're Waiting

This fella is also a bit handy at the fitba.

This ones for you Jimmy.