Just So You Know

I went and got a Tumblr.

http://mjnappi.tumblr.com/

Head on over.

Cheese-Eating Rat Fink Bastard

Its a damn shame people can't just mind their own business. Its a shame that they have to stick their douche-bag faces where they don't fucking belong.

Was I dipping work? I sure was. I missing anything important? I was not. Did me skipping work in even the slightest way impact anyone? It did not. Other than of course to make Spc. Bitch angry that I was sleeping in my bed while he was sitting against a wall locker in the ready-room.
But I guess to him blowing my shit up was an appropriate response.

I'm not really that angry. I fucked up, so I'll take my punishment. Not that big of a deal really. Its just disappointing to me that people can be so petty. That they feel a need to make everyone be miserable because they are.

To me, if you can get by, get over, get out then good for you. I'm pissed that I have to suck it while you're not, but that's no reason to call someone out. You just man the fuck up and move the fuck on. But I guess I only feel that way because I'm not some fucking cry-baby bitch.

I Should Have Just Gone To Nassau

Today concludes the first four-day weekend I have spent in El Paso since August. And it has hit me with more than a little force why exactly it is that I don't stay here on four-days.
Hell Paso is played out, my co-workers are played out, my battalion is played out and the uniform sand-color of everyfuckingthing within 300 miles is played out.
Never again.

Might As Well Celebrate

Three years ago today I walked into the Ft. Meade MPES station, took the Oath of Enlistment, got on a plane to Ft. Benning, Georgia and that, in effect, was that.

In the last 1,095 days I guess a lot of shit has happened. Its tempting for me to go ahead and write out some run-on sentences listing some of contrasting experiences I've had these years, but I'm not going to.

What I am going to do is get good and drunk.

Shit I'm Into Now

Books:
Democracy In America -------Read this shit, otherwise Frenchmen will set fire to your crotch.
The Stranger -----------"Maman died today." Meursault is a pimp and life is truly absurd.
Leaves Of Grass------America's bard who was all about living life, jacking off and hooking up.

Music:
Madder Red -Yeasayer--- Weirdest. Video. Ever.
Black Squirrel Radio----Those god damn hippies at Kent State got one thing right: College Radio

Teh Internets:
Epic Meal Time--- If Man vs. Food et al. is food porn then these guys are Max Hardcore.
Sid's Tumblr --Its almost like hanging with Sid, except you don't get to call him a hipster-douche
Letsrun.com -- Running Mecca.

TV:
Archer -Season 2 premiers the 27th. "Someone better call Kenny Loggins, 'cause you're in the DANGER ZONE!"
Teen Mom ---- You'd be surprised how many soldiers watch this shit, aka my whole platoon.

Rando Junk:
Kimber 1911 .45 cal. with laser grip -- Man. Gun. Shoot. Boom.
Tropical Fruit candles -- They smell like candy and covers the smell of dirty laundry very well.
Miller High Life --This is where I cut corners so I can afford trips to everywhere.
Hood To Coast -- This shit gives me a shin-splint, side-stitch, thigh-cramp, hard-on.


I recommend them all.

8 Miler In The AM

I didn't run today and I'm losing my fucking mind. You would think that after years and years and years of this shit I'd have it figured out.

Running=Sanity
Sitting on my ass=Insanity

Writing Fail

Four times I've opened this window and four times I've written a paragraph or three and four times I've deleted everything.

Today just ain't my day.

The More Of These I Can Combine The Better

Shit I Need To Live A Balanced And Happy Life*

(In No Particular Order)
-
-

Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supremes
Philosophy
Decent Running Shoes
Humidity
Bob Dylan's Music
Sex
Lots of Water
Wood Fires on Cold Nights
Cheap Beer
The Vienna Inn
Dirt
Teen Mom
Ultimate Frisbee
Nudity
Travel
Long Showers
Hugs
A Good Knife
Guns
My Leg Hair
Working Up A Good Sweat
Friends
Neighbor's Karaoke
Being Outside
Fine Liquor
Books
Front Porch Chillin'

(* This is by no means a comprehensive list.)

Did You Know Tumblr Has Classy Black And White Hipster Pornography?

I am trying to not be impatient. I am trying to get the most from every damn day I'm still stuck here and not just coast through. But its hard knowing that I'm going to start a whole new, fucking awesome, terrifying and worthwhile life on my own terms in 117 days.

This Marathon Is Gonna Kill Me

For serious though, it is.

But I suppose sometimes you have to kill yourself to live.

120 Days Left

January the 7th, 2011.

I feel really bad for the firefighters and EMT's out here on East Ft. Bliss. Today the second floor of the Brigade HQ caught on fire, some doucher Cav Scout passed out during the 5-mile post run and split his head open, and not 10 minutes ago some poor SOB tried to hang himself in the building next to mine. I can't go an hour without hearing a damn siren. And its not even 7pm...

All Non-French Names Have Been Removed Because They Really Don't Matter

I have no idea how to start this so I'ma jump right in it and maybe come up with an opening later.

So I'm sitting in Scott's room watching TV and having a beer and all the sudden I remember something. Something fucking awesome. Someone fucking awesome that I have not thought about in five years.
This might seem not unusual to some people; I'm sure many people don't think about people they met just once five years ago. But I'm pretty good at remembering everything. So when I forget about someone as mind-blowing as Françoise...

It was senior year of high school, at an indoor track meet up in PG County the day before winter break. I was fucking around, per usual, waiting for the 3600m (which is always the 3rd to last race) to start. Earlier in the day I, along with half the guy's team, noticed this girl.
She was running the 4x400 when we noticed her, smoking the shit out of everybody and looking damn sexy doing it. Later she was spotted high jumping and if I'm not mistaken triple jumping. And it was after her last triple that ______ made his move.

Now to put it simply, ______ had game like none other, especially when we were 17. And even if he hadn't had game he did have an in; he was the only male triple jumper on our team. But pimp as he was he had two liabilities. First was the fact that directly after the girl's events came the guys, thus he had to stop flirting and start jumping. Second; and no doubt more important, was his girlfriend. She was a friendly, enthusiastic yet bland girl whose name I can't even pretend to remember and whose long-term relationship with ______ was ever a puzzle to us all. In any case she was also a jumper and seeing these two issues converging rapidly I inserted myself into the conversation and _____ also seeing them removed himself to start stretching.

It was then I found myself talking to Françoise. She was of medium height, had long brown hair, a beautiful face and more curves than any female who could run that fast had any right to have. And if that were not enough; if being beautiful in face, hot in body and in shape enough to wreck the field at 400m was not enough... She was fucking FRENCH!
And not like just her name was French, or her parents were French, or she had been born in France. She was a French exchange student, attending a Fairfax Country Public School, with the sexiest goddamn French accent known to mankind, ever.

So there I was sitting on the bleachers, outclassed, outgunned, beyond all hope, giving it my best shot.
And rip out my windpipe with you teeth if it didn't fucking work. Not a quarter of an hour later we were out back of that gym doing what 17 year-olds do like there was no tomorrow.

Now you may be wondering if this story has a point. To be honest it really doesn't. It just boils down to me remembering a very fond memory that has eluded me lo these many years. And hoping it isn't half a decade before I think of Françoise again.

Cut Ya Damn Hair Boy! You Look Like A Stinking Hippy

I can confidently say that returning to El Paso this most recent time has been the hardest yet. In the last six months I have been building my life back around home; bit by bit, long weekend by long weekend. I have people there again, people that haven't been around really since we were a fair bit younger. And even a few people that were never there before.

And I'm getting so close to leaving the Army I can see the door. I can almost smell it and I know that I'll be able to get by just fine. Because I used to worry about it sometimes. I used to worry that I'd been so institutionalized I would have trouble adjusting back to a normal life.
But not anymore.

I know just what I have to do and I know what I don't have to do and I know how to get by just fine without some SOB telling me which way to piss. I'm sure I'll have a few bumps and I'm sure I'll get nostalgic, but I'm already transitioning away from being a soldier. I'm already trying to think like a civilian. And while I'll never truly get there (once this shit is in your blood it stays for life) I'm not worried I'll end up some smelly old vet who never moved past his war.

Why Oh Why Did I Goose Up That Punch...

Fuck you 2010. I'm sure I have worse, and I'm sure I'll have better.
So just stick that in your pipe and smoke it.