No Officer, But I Wish I Did Have A Weapon In The Vehicle

Back in my second year of college at UAF, I made some bad choices.  This is common knowledge.  I skipped class so I could sleep all day, I worked a full time job and skipped class, and I felt that I was invincible, as many twenty year olds feel when they’re away from home.

Anyway, for a very short time I casually dated this guy named Derik.  We didn’t have a lot in common— we both liked Miyazaki movies, he was well traveled, he was an overall interesting guy and he treated me well.  He seemed stable and honest, and I really liked him.

One night, after we had been seeing each other for a few weeks, he starts messaging me on face book.  He tells me he’s really drunk and he would be so happy if I got him some Taco Bell.

Since I’m sober and it’s Saturday night, I decided I would be the good friend and sober his dumb ass up.

How sweet of me, right?

I walk downstairs to his dorm room and he opens the door and falls forward, almost slamming into the ground, but he caught himself on the wall.  I could smell the liquor on him from three feet away.  He put his arm around me and announced we should get Taco Bell.

The taco bell that was closest to UAF was about three miles, so not too far.  As we were driving though, I got a lot of insight as to what kind of person Derik really was.

“You and I would never work as a couple,” he told me, something that hurt me deeply because I did like him a lot.

“Why is that?” I asked him.

“You’re too uptight.  You have no goals in life, and you’re just really awkward and weird.”

I feel my foot push on the gas a little more.  “Oh really, what are your goals in life?” I asked him.

Without even skipping a beat, he said something to me that made me want to punch him in the face.  “My goal in life is to fuck bitches and get high.”

My foot started to push  more on the gas. “Fuck bitches and get high?  How high are you right now?”

“I had two hits from a roach clip right before you picked me up.  But seriously though, you’re just too uptight and trying to take the fun out of fucking everything.  It’s so damn annoying.  Go smoke some pot and calm your ass down.”

The petal was to the metal at that point, we were going at least twenty over in this area.

“You listen here asshole,” I started to say, getting angrier as I spoke.  “I don’t want to be living on the streets with addiction and I don’t want to be living off of my parents for ever, so you can just shut your mouth.”

I’ve never been good with comebacks.  He started to gnaw at me more, saying more hurtful things… Until the cop car behind us turned on his lights.

I was so livid at Derik that I didn’t even care.  I pulled over, and Derik, who had been drinking and doing drugs that evening, paled as the cop came to the car.

Well hello...

Well hello…

“License and registration,” the cop asked.  I started to reach for my registration when the cop spoke again.  “Do you have any weapons in the car?”

“I fucking wish,” I said angrily, practically throwing the items at the cop.

This cop knew me.  I made his lunch every day.  He had a spark of recognition when he saw my license and my angry face.

He gave me a look, and I cleared my throat.  “Uh, no, I don’t sir.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked me.  I point to the asshole next to me.

“This asshole is really pissing me off.”

You should have heard the squeak that came from Derik.  His eyes were the size of plates, his face was ghastly white, and he was still.

“Is there going to be a chance of domestic violence?” the cop asked me.

“No sir, I’ll kick his ass before he can get his fists up,” I told the cop.  Derik looked at me, thinking I was serious.

The cop gave me back my license and registration.  “Just slow down, okay?  And calm down.”

The cop went back to his car and drove off.

Derik let out a sigh of relief.

“I take it back, you’re a fucking god.”

The next day, he couldn’t remember what happened so he messaged me asking me if I wanted to come over.  I told him what happened and that I had no desire to see him again.  He apologized profusely, saying he didn’t mean it and didn’t remember any of it.  He admitted that he was blacked out drunk, but those words cut me pretty deep.

To say the least, we weren’t really seeing each other anymore.  But I wish him well.

Have you ever met someone and found out some nasty stuff about them?  Ever had a crush on someone and they were nothing like you thought they were?  Ever tell a cop you wish you had a weapon?  Let me know in the comments!

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Living Dead in Dallas

Sorry Charlene Harris, but I think it was perfect to describe my trip to Dallas a few weeks ago.

So shortly after I started my new job, my work told me that I needed to go to Dallas for a few days for training.  I figured why not, and went, because I wouldn’t be allowed to work at my awesome new job unless I was trained and certified.

So while I was waiting for my flight, I had a beer, and was waiting and waiting to find out that my flight was canceled.  I’ve mentioned before how driving to Dallas has ended in my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but my coworker, who is a pretty awesome guy, found out that we would be reimbursed for gas and he offered to drive.  Which was great for me because if the car broke down, it wouldn’t be mine.

Naturally, I had to prank Alex and my mom because I was driving to Dallas alone with a man.  And I had a beer in my system.

I call Alex first and put him on speaker phone.  The conversation went like this.

Alex: Hello?

Me: Hey honey, so I got drunk and some random guy kidnapped me and is dragging me to Dallas.  I’m probably going to die from either murder or Ebola.  Hope that’s okay.

Alex:… What?

Me:  Well the flight was canceled so I was drinking and my coworker is kidnapping me to Dallas and you’re never going to see me again.

Alex: WHAT?!

Me: It’s all good though, he won’t rape me because he’s gay.

Alex: Ugh, fine, let me know when you get to Dallas*

Then I called my mom next.  That woman is a hard woman to rattle and I told her that I was drunk and being kidnapped and she just said, “Okay, be safe!”  It was rather disappointing.

Halfway to Dallas, we decide to stop and get some Mexican food in Canton.  I’ve mentioned how I’ve had some bad experiences in Canton before, but this time the Mexican restaurant had a church on top of it and I got to touch a giant cock.

Take that, Bloggess

Take that, Bloggess

 

Once we were back on the road, we got lost after getting to Dallas and after making the same turn about six times, we found our hotel.

After training the next day I enjoyed a margarita and a walk with Jesus, and this time  I didn’t make a total and complete fool of myself like the last time I walked with Jesus.  I felt the drinks were necessary in order to enjoy Texas.

Our last afternoon in Dallas, we got out of training early and decided to explore the mall.  I have to say, Grapevine Mills mall in Irving is fucking fantastic.  It has everything.

Even ass fire.

Even ass fire.

However, there was one particular store that left me very confused.  The store was called “Heroes” and it was a store that sold military paraphernalia, airsoft guns, camo, hunting knives, so on and so forth.  They even have a website.

To say the least, this store screamed, “MURICA!”  Not even “America.”  Just ‘Merica.

The main thing that confused and scared and awed me was the mannequins.  The mannequins displaying the women’s clothing were taller than me (I’m 5’8), they had DDD boobs, and their pants were low rise and it was all camo.

Words can't even describe my confusion

Words can’t even describe my confusion

SeriouslyTexas, what the fuck is with this?  Why do the mannequins need to have huge boobs?  Why can you see the fucking nipples of the mannequin?

My coworker and I just stared at the mannequin for a few minutes, just in stunned silence.  We were so confused.  I like to think I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin, but the fact that this mannequin made my boobs look like less than mosquito bites and the fact that this clothing was so… ‘Murican, I had no idea what to make of it.  So I took a picture and moved on.

The next morning was our last morning in Texas, and I couldn’t be happier to go back to my little house.  I missed Alex and Texas has this obsession with the shape of it’s state that was weirding me out.  And I lived in Alaska for heaven’s sake.

         

Seriously?  A fucking Texas shaped waffle

Seriously? A fucking Texas shaped waffle?

So I made it home and I’ve been working so much that every muscle in my body aches and I just want to crawl under a rock and die.  It’s fucking awesome.

 

Have you ever gone on a business trip that went better than expected?  Ever been somewhere where the culture just confused the hell out of you?  Have you ever eaten hot sauce that made you fart fire?  Let me know in the comments!

And The Internet Demanded More Goats

If anyone here reads Hacker, Ninja, Hooker, Spy, they will know that Aussa was recently proposed to and has gotten engaged.  And also, that she has a healthy obsession with goats.

Since she’s a famous blogger now and since this is the internet, we bloggers have come up with a horribly hilarious prank for the lovely Aussa.

Maurna and I should never be allowed to talk on the phone again because of this.  She called me, and we were talking about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness, when we got on the topic of Aussa.  No idea how.  Mostly we were gushing about how we felt she really deserved happiness after the hell she was put through from her ex.

Then I said, “You know what would be funny?  If we sent her an ass load of goats and said, ‘Since you’re worth more than ten goats, have the boyfran give this to your dad as a dowry payment.’  I mean, how ridiculously hilarious would that be?”

To which Maurna started to laugh.  She then posed the question, in her sultry dark chocolate voice*, “Could you imagine her face if we sent all these goat plushies, just trickling in, and her just staring at them like, ‘What the fuck?  Why am I getting all these fucking goats?’”

There was a beat of silence… Then… “OH MY GOD WE SHOULD DO IT!”

So then we went into details.  We considered doing a Kickstarter campaign, doing something on Indiegogo, and every possible way to get her goats.  Since Maurna has Aussa’s address, and after emailing an assload of bloggers, we came to a consensus of mailing the goats to Maurna, who then has been forwarding them to Aussa.

Every blogger we contacted that responded was more than game for it.  We had every blogger try to recruit more bloggers and everyone has been having a hayday with the planning of the goats.

We were all sending subtle hints to Aussa about the goats.  People have been posting all over her facebook with stuff such as goat pictures, goat videos, most bloggers have been leaving comments about goats.
We were trying to warn her of the impending wave of goats her way.  Either she knew this entire time and kept to herself, or we scared the shit out of her, making her think she had an internet stalker.

We can see everything...

We can see everything…

So when the internet is called upon for goats… the internet is always willing.  Because goats are nearly as popular as cats.

So, my lovely Aussa, happy engagement.  We want you to know that we think you’re worth hundreds of goats, and that’s the goal.  To send you around 100 goat plushies.  And possibly a goat costume, because that’d be incredibly sexy on your honeymoon.

How sexy would this be?

How sexy would this be?

 

Want in on this prank?  The wishlist for Aussa’s goat prank is here.  Also, Debbie from More Than Sweet Potatoes is also doing a charity in Aussa’s name and she will be posting about it here. 

What’s the best prank you’ve pulled on someone?

 

*I should explain Maurna’s voice.  She has a deep voice, kind of monotone, and the type of voice that you expect someone would use to get into your pants.  It’s unnerving and awesome all at the same time.

I also should mention that none of this would have happened without Maurna’s awesome organizational skills.  I’m great with ideas, but horrible with execution.  Maurna was the one who emailed the bloggers, made the wish list, and took the time to mail the goats to Aussa.  So Maurna, thank you SO MUCH for all the time you put into this.  I owe you big time ❤

 

The Gay Debate: Deep South Edition

Being in a red state and originally from a blue state, I have noticed a lot of different arguments about gay marriage and how they’re played out.  I’ve heard that the bible says no gay love is acceptable, I’ve heard that gay love isn’t “real” love, but Alex told me of a particular gay argument that left us both thinking, “Sweetie, have you had the birds and the bees talk?”

I’ve mentioned before that Alex is in the military, hence my name “Military Wife Rants” (though I really want to change that).  And when we were in Alaska, the whole gay soldier thing didn’t really affect any of us.  We had openly gay friends and closeted gay friends in the military in Alaska.  Nobody really cared.  Alex had a shop chief that told Alex that if he wanted to make below the zone, he would have to get some knee pads and go below the zone.  He was joking, of course, and this was a very common joke among young airmen from their shop supervisors.

On overseas bases, I hear this is very common.  At least, the joking, I have no idea if they actually get their kneepads on.  But I have seen a lot of knee pads in different Airmen’s lockers…

Hmm…

Anyway, Alex was telling me that his coworkers were talking about how gays can’t get married because they don’t have “real sex.”

He then began to describe how a plug goes into an outlet.  “For instance, two plugs can’t go into each other, so therefore gay sex doesn’t work.”

Basically sex.

Basically sex.

Alex told me this and I just shook my head and laughed.  I’ve made mention of touching tips before, but hearing this, I had to wonder what my gay friends would think.

I have one friend in particular, who is very active in the gay rights movement.  He’s very openly gay, I’ve known him for years, and he’s by far one of the most loving people I know.  I love to tell him stupid arguments like this, but for this post, I asked him his honest opinion on this particular argument.  He was happy to oblige, and here was his response.

There are so many ways to unpack it. First, marriage doesn’t equal sex. Marriage is about making a lifetime, loving commitment to each other. It’s not a contract for sex. People have sex without getting marriage all the time. Gay men will have sex, married or not. Equating marriage with sex is only done with people who are opposed to marriage equality think about same-sex marriage. When that same person learns that an opposite sex couple, their first thought is not “Oh, he’ll be putting his erect penis in her vagina now, I guess.” Or, if that is their first thought, wow.

Second, there isn’t a rule book about what kind of sex is legit and not. Straight people do oral, they do anal, they do frottage. That doesn’t invalidate their marriages. The one thing gay men can’t do is penile/vaginal intercourse, but when you take your marriage vow, you don’t swear to have vaginal intercourse, you swear to love each other. What kind of sex, if any, a married couple engages in, has nothing to do with the marriage contract.

Straight couples often stop having sex, yet the marriage endures. One of the spouses could get ill, or they both get old, and the sex ends. No one questions the validity of that marriage. The “real sex” question only gets brought up when talking about gay couples. It’s a convenient, cherry-picked idea used as a tool of discrimination that cannot be universalized.

Plus, why does he spend time thinking about how gays have sex? Seems fishy to me.

Well said, my friend, well said.

 

Have you heard arguments like this and their reasons are anything but sound?  Do you agree with what is said?  Let me know in the comments, but please no flaming.

Why He’s The Bra Guru: A Marital Dispute

In honor of save the tatas month, I have decided to write a post about my boobs.  And about how Alex and I have the same fight all the time.  Here’s a snippet of this particular fight.

Me: Hey, Alex?  For the love of God, stop grabbing my boobs.

Alex: But that’s what they’re there for.  That’s my God given right for being your husband.  I get to grab boobs all the time.

Me: But you’re breaking the wires in my bras trying to go under the bra.  And you’re stretching out the cups so they don’t keep their shape.

Alex: Then stop wearing bras. Problem solved. Now let’s move on to something more difficult like the Ebola crisis.

Me: NO!  If I stop wearing bras, then my boobs will get saggy.

Alex: I’ll just hold up your boobs. Check mate.

Except it's my boobs.

Except it’s my boobs.

Me: You can’t just walk around behind me holding my boobs up all day.

Alex: I’ll do it for you, as a sign of my undying love. Challenge accepted!

Me: THIS IS NOT A CHALLENGE!

LIKE A BOSS

LIKE A BOSS

Alex:  I’m not the sole reason they break. After all, your bras wouldn’t break all the time if you didn’t wear them.

Me: My bras wouldn’t break if you would stop grabbing my boobs all the time.

Alex: I don’t get why you wear bras all the time anyway.  They always break after five months or so.

Me: They would last a year if you stopped grabbing my boobs!

Alex: Well, you’ve established that I’m your “bra guru”, I’ll help you find new ones when the time comes.

Me: The time comes way sooner than it should since you keep breaking them!

Alex: But I am driven by a desire to grab boobs, and I have sworn to only grab yours as a sign of love and respect.

Me: I appreciate the dedication, but you need to stop grabbing my boobs all the time.

Alex: BUT I HAVE TO GRAB BOOBS!

So we came to a compromise.  I smack his hand until he stops.  And he doesn’t stop and barks at me when his hand gets raw from me smacking his hand all the time. Which then I tell him…

“Alex?  For the love of God, stop grabbing my boobs.”

Thus the cycle begins again.

Does your spouse have overy grabby hands?  Does your boyfriend or husband grab your boobs all the time and no matter what you say or do, your boobs seem like magical magnets that nobody can resist? Let me know in the comments!

All Hail The Lord (Cthulu)

Alex’s best friend was luckily stationed with us here in Louisiana.  Last year, he had to get shoulder surgery because the military messed up his shoulder so bad that he could no longer lift his arms higher than… Well, his shoulder.

Since there are no military hospitals near us, they sent him to a catholic hospital.  When he told us this, we couldn’t help but laugh, because this particular friend is a very avid atheist.  He doesn’t throw it in our faces ever and is incredibly respectful to those who are religious, but it’s not his bag.  Which makes religious debates with him incredibly interesting and not blood thirsty.

He’s also quite a troll.  He loves to just stir the pot on stupid stuff to make others look stupid, which has two side effects: It’s incredibly hilarious to watch him talk to people, or situations get awkward.

Such a troll.

Such a troll.

 

When he was admitted to the catholic hospital, he was given a series of questions to answer, and he told us all about it.  The military first said that he was faking the pain in his shoulder, but they later found that he had huge air bubbles in his shoulder, showing that he was not faking it. The doctors were even surprised at how much pain he must have been in.

Anyways, getting off topic.

When he went in for the surgery, the doctors started asking about references and people to call in case things went south.  The last question the doctor asked caused his troll tendencies to expel in the strongest manner possible.

Doctor: So, what religion are you?

Friend: Cthulu is my lord and savior.  All hail Cthuhlu.

All shall bow down.

All shall bow down.

The doctor, without skipping a beat, begins to write and speaks outloud as he’s writing.

Doctor: Athiest.

Right as they were starting to put him under, the doctor and assistants, nurses I guess, all joined hands around him and said a prayer.

Here’s how it went down, according to the Troll.

Doctors: Heavenly father—

Troll: CTHULHU!

Doctors: We ask that you guide us safely through this surgery to ensure that this young man comes out stronger.  We ask this in your name—

Troll: ALL HAIL CTHULHU!

Doctors: Amen.

He said that shortly after they put him under and he woke up with his shoulder in great shape.  He can even move his arms above his head again.  Which is a relief.

He said he had Cthulhu to thank.

Do you know anyone who is a troll?  Ever have an experience that made others incredibly dumbfounded and weirded out by the stupid shit you say?  Tell me in the comments!