Sunday, October 4, 2009

No Boats for Me! Thanks

NY POST 2009

I don't know what it is about my friends, family and spies in the United States Army, but every time Mr. Sinise has even the slightest bit of humaness they feel it necessary to contact me with bitter details -- often photos that NO I will never publish. When you have a dog in the Army (and I do) and you have a dozen or so operatives as close buddies (and again, I do), you are apt to find one or two of them that actually get a kick out of those of us who just aren't "Army Strong". They like to make fun of us, post about us, or in Gary's case they like to call me and tell me what he's doing, where in the world he's doing it, and why they think it's hysterical. No Mr. Peterson, I don't need to stalk Sinise, I have people. I have lots and lots of camo-wearing, ninja-types who have little else to do on a NYC weekday than to write me and tell me that "MY MAN" got sick on the glass bottomed boat he and others were filming on this week in the City. (Well, all I can say is, we have yet another thing in common it would appear.) Hooah Sinise! Hooah!

My disdain for movement started when I was very young and couldn't catch up with the spinning merry-go-round on the playground. I remember busting my head on the big fat metal bars that protruded from the monster. I remember also falling off of it onto pebbles and/or concrete - - who puts a spinning wooden and metal wheel on top of concrete then allows kids to play on it; not monitoring the speed, not caring how many kids are catapulted into the freaking air? TEACHERS...that's who! TEACHERS!

As long as I was in control of the movements I was fine - - for instance, I was a gymnast, and never once got sick throwing myself into the air. When I used to dive I was fine, but put me on a boat - - I sink. You don't have to worry about even undocking it, I'm throwing up before it leaves the slip! I don't do boats. I didn't used to do planes, but got over it with some really really good drugs by Wyeth. That's a funny story too. I was on a flight to NYC from Dallas and sat next to a beautiful woman who just happened to represent the Wyeth pharmaceutical company. She sensed my apprehension immediately, and well, not wanting vomit on her new skirt I suppose, she suggested that I use something that starts with a P and it's a compound mixture. She gave it to me - - applied it to my wrists and when I rubbed it in I was absolutely fine! She gave me 10 vials and to be honest with you after using it on the next 10 trips I never had to order any more. (Here's a funny note, after I wrote her a thank you card and signed my name she wrote back that she thinks we're 3rd cousins! WE WERE!! How funny is that? She got the looks though.) LOL

Nope, I don't do boats, and apparently the man, "My Man" doesn't get along with them much either. Well, thank you SSGT Ben Gentry for that observation - - and again, NO I won't be posting the photos of Sinise almost throwing up - - not pretty. No, don't get me wrong, he's pretty, and of course I'd be there in a heartbeat to take care of the man, but he'd have to come to shore first - - Terra firma...Terra firma.

Next time you're in NYC try spotting the operatives on the Piers....they're the ones with really short hair and big toothy grins. They love their jobs. My son is one you know - - sneaky little kid. Did I ever tell you about the time he hid from me for 45 minutes in our 1-entry apartment? It had a backdoor, but we lived on the 10th floor! Both doors were locked from the was a tiny apartment! I couldn't find my son! Over and over I searched. I was freaking out, because if he had left he couldn't have locked the doors. If he had been kidnapped he couldn't' have locked the doors -- and he was nearly 200 pounds. DAMN kid, he was stealthily moving from room to room as I left the room - - I became so upset I began crying. That's when he came out of hiding - 5 feet in front of me! I swear, the Army uses this boy for all he's worth -- SSGT Gentry is obviously his equal.

Well, Gary Alan, I hope your belly is better. Mine hurts a little from laughing, but I really do understand. I really do.

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