Saturday, July 30, 2005
Aches, that flush, and that terrible face of envy.Im already late for a dinner, but my fingers wanted to type. Push-ups back in camp were not exactly given out in the most gracious numbers this week, and i come home feeling the horrible aftermath. Sometimes it is not that i do not wish to share moments from the army with people, but sometimes people forget that they too can be amused by witnessing the stupidity of their instructors, and really just simply cannot re-enact anything out. Now i would though, try to make a wild guess that one of my instructors grew up watching the aerobics tapes of Jane Fonda. He had such weird exercises that i guessed only those immensly worried about the issues of abs were in the full flight of attention. Me? Why lets just say im still trying to abort the baby hiding in my belly. Its made of fats the last time i reckoned, which is shockingly the same answer i could only tell myself for the 100000000 time since i had it 10 years ago.The morning breeze this morning back in bunk with my platoon mates brought me the additional knowledge of my friends once more, whom i hope in short time and the long, would not endear me to hail them as aquantainces anymore. Its certainly funny to discover how one person's obvious shortcomings (me the most obvious with my big fat mouth that shoots with no reason, bitch and that occasional wit) is regarded as pure treasure to the korean looking hunk in my platoon. I mean, he was only much better looking than i was, had that great toned body and that usual innocence in his smile which i thought girls would die for. So as usual we tried to negotiate that god was fair after all. But as i ponder now, the ratio of his good points to mine was a great 3:1. This could also have probably meant that in girl terms, he probably required only one third of god-knows-whatever-he-is-doing to gain attention form any decent girl, while i had to gabble three times more of whatever he spoke in his whole life to make my presence known. Shit. I was short-changed after all.And so as i continue to feel green i shall just ponder about the green bottle that my buddy dropped into the toilet bowl before any private business happened the other day. Told him squatting toilets were dangerous.
Written fashion may not be history @4:16 PM
