I recently celebrated my 32nd birthday but I do it a little different. I go out on the day before and rage because Ill never be 31 again. About 2 minutes before the clock struck 12 I went into the bathroom and had a conversation in the mirror. I reviewed that last few years and although I have been all over the planet I haven’t moved forward on other things I set out to accomplish. All I’ve been doing is rotating back and forth from Afghanistan making it impossible for any form of stability outside of sheer insanity. While in Afghanistan all I do is Read books and lift weights so I can create the perfect man just so when I get back to America I can crucify him. After my injury and extended stay in America I have decided to get off this cycle and get out of America. Dec 2nd I leave for Brazil where Ill be studying Sex, Samba and Soccer with a lil Jiu-Jitsu thrown in there just in case I roll through the wrong Favela and nigga’s wanna squab.
It was a weird mix of things that got me to this place.
Firstly- I would say falling into the same traps time and time again
Secondly- I found a girl that makes me want to be a better man but not to just fit a preconceived ideal of what I should be. Instead I am looking to be a better man for myself knowing she gave me the inspiration.
Finally- San Diego is perfect… And that is the problem my life has become to easy. If I am not challenged I become stagnant and living in a city that has 75 degree weather year round allows for Peter Pan to recruit an Army of lost boys who never seem to grow up.
San Diego its not that I wont be back but I have some growing up to do and my passport needs a few more stamps. Besides I made a promise that Id be speaking Portuguese by 33 and Brazil seems like a better place to learn. ‪#‎RWR‬ out

The thing I am most upset about concerning Hilary Clinton and the state Department’s lie about why the attack on the Benghazi compound took place is simple. When Americans die I want the truth because I know the men who are at risk and I could be one of them. If I die I want my children to know the truth and not a fabricated story to fit a political narrative. I don’t want misguided fear or hate to influence the coarse of policy or action. Benghazi was a planned organized assault on Americans not a spontaneous protest about a YouTube video. To lie and say that it was because of the video allows for Americans to have misplaced hatred for innocent people within Libya and not direct it to the real enemies not only of America but to any civilized person on the planet. It makes me sick to know that a secondary attack occurred that day and it was perpetrated against the American people by the the Dept. of State and everyone who knew the truth but perpetuated that fucking lie. Fuck You!!! ‪#‎HillaryClinton‬ and fuck anyone who would support you after finding out the truth. The ‪#‎ArabSpring‬ only gave birth to radical fuckheads like ‪#‎ISIS‬ let ‪#‎EricPrince‬ ‪#‎Blackwater‬ raise an army of patriots to eridicate those homophobic, mysoginist, anti-Semitic, pedophiles because lord knows if it’s a government sanctioned strike it will be ineffective not because we can’t but because the powers in charge; won’t. ‪#‎WarIsaRackett‬ … Brought to you by the good people at the Elk Street Soap Company

For those who dont know #BurningTheFlag can actually be a patriotic event because it is the only way to truly retire it. Here is a quick how to guide

Step 1- Cut the stars from the stripes

Step 2- Burn each separately

If given the proper reverence the burning of the flag is more of a funeral then just the discarding of something that is used and worn.

When I look at the American flag it always moves me because under that flag I have been given the freedom to be the man whom I choose to be and whenever I see old glory doing the finest pole dance in the world it takes me back to when I was in Fallujah losing brothers. I went into a Trak vehicle #YutYat and I saw the flag and it reminded me of why I was there and I felt connected to all the men who fought under it. The American flag gave me strength and purpose in that hour of darkness and question.

In contrast of how I choose to revere and treat this symbol of freedom. I choose to view any burning of the flag as an act of Patriotism because even when done in protest that flag gives those people the freedom to disrespect it. Where else in the world can you burn the standard of your nation and not be incarcerated or worse.

So today I morn the flag that has died but it will give birth to a new flag that will fly with #BaldEagles and #FreeMen

#GodBlessAmerica

I need to start getting my shit together. Im over extending myself because I thought the world was going to rotate around me. Timing though I guess was never my thing. Lets look at things simply… Who are the people that matter. How do I pull through for them. Well for starters I matter because if Im not a healthy human being how can I help a single mother fucker. What does that mean? I think it means sobriety. In all forms which is something that make me want to shoot myself because I fucking love to drink…even mouth wash. Its just so easy falling victim to vice everything is literally at my finger tips but the desire to succeed. Im facing 3 months of unemployment talking about ripping the band-aid off and what will my anesthetic be? Poverty and the inability to afford vice? No thats just the cause of my situation. Clarity? Its hard to have a crystal fucking clear image of what I want when Im standing around home depot waiting to be picked up on a contract or bein’ up in da  Hong Kong club wit my titties out trying to make you holla for a dolla to feed my kids. Of course I could always just go work full time for the Elk Street Soap Company studying the fine art of tight rope walking with the HNIC Eric Kocher AKA Big K AKA Arch Enemy of #BallSawNigger.

It seems while deployed in the sensory deprivation tank that is Kabul I become that Phoenix rising from the ashes that is my civilian life only to explode like a glorious #RWR July 4th final finally fireworks display. I feel depriving myself here in America will not have the same effect rather I feel I become the sea gull begging for food waiting for someone to throw me alca-seltser in which case I will explode but there will be no resurrection just a bloated corpse waiting to be cleaned up like all trash from New Jersey.

In sobriety I fear the angry voice of Hyde barking in the backdrop of my mind can only be silenced by White girls, alcohol and of course actual women. Tomorrow on my road to recovery I think I will go back to fighting at my local gym with my POW crew its been a while but I know that if I’m not sharp I will get smacked around a bit. Then I believe going around looking for work maybe a productive outlet. I would say might be healthy but that leads to inner dialogue which allows Hyde to start screaming to be released and not necessarily on the world but on my true arch enemy… David Casserly. Is this all dramatic effect and just a fun storyline to scare and entertain the people I love and hate. Or is this an honest reflection of self that longs to be heard and understood by the only audience I give a fuck about David Casserly and Beaux Engelbert but choose to share with voyeur’s because its the only way to truly come clean to both men. Whatever it is I should stop posing hypotheticals and just start what ever process of which I decide.

A good Marine is his best when his team has a mission because it means they have been entrusted with getting shit down with Victory or Valhalla as their rewards. Its time to get my team physically and mentally prepared to break us out of the prison we choose to constantly cycle in and out of. Sadly though that prison is the place you can check out any time you like but you can never leave. Unless of course your a fucking nerd and move back to the middle of no where. Pho-k You CaRi-fornia and your fake tits, Ferraris, beaches and blondes. Where the forecast is always a blizzard and the 9th ring of hell known as Los Angeles claims the souls of every Prom Queen that steps off the bus. I know that sounds a little hackey’ and cliche but fuck so is everything else in that town. The only thing faker than the people is the disdain I have for the place because I wouldn’t dock my vessel so close to the sirens call if I didn’t want to crash into the rocks of the Hollywood sign.

Believe it or not this what 69 hours of sobriety sounds like from Mr. Hyde because the man who gives into his baser self is a helluva lot nicer. For when he sins he casts the stones upon himself  and if you find this disturbing a brother of mine once told me “If you want to find out who your real friends are be sober” and if you don’t want any friends at all be out of your fucking mind but god damn bluetooth technology makes everyone look crazy. So I guess telling the truth maybe the best form of insanity we have left.

So there I was sitting poolside at the Roosevelt back in July when I overheard someone talking about how their cousin was going somewhere in Guatamala to bring fresh water to a village of about 120 people. I shared my contact info in hopes to impress the 22 year old Brazilian girl I had started dating as well as potentially spread America through the Dove instead of the rifle. Within a week I was contacted by the project lead Cameron who gave me a quick whats what about the organization and their fundraising goals to green light the project. Fundraising aside he told me he needed volunteers and that hard work lied ahead. So I booked a ticket to Guatamala City for the duration of the project leaving 2 days on the back end for a little R&R post project. I was excited to head down to Guatamala to not only bring fresh water but also open up new business relations, networks and McDonalds franchises seemed like the American thing to do.

As the zero hour approached I started to become hesitant about my decision. I asked myself what my physical presence would provide on this expedition. I may have done some concrete work in the past and a bit general construction but Im no engineer and if it was strong backs they needed where were the working age men in the town. Why help people who wouldn’t ostensibly help themselves? Would my money and time have been better spent donating more money towards the project? Regardless of the excuses I started making for myself I had given my word and people were in need so on September 1st I jumped on the red-eye connected in ATL and landed in Guatamala City about a half hour after the main body. I walked out of the airport and realized my C minus in Spanish 101 wasn’t going to get me far. So I went in search of some patchouli smelling Gringos in Obama t-shirts looking to make a difference. What I found was a bunch of young men looking to help others and find something in themselves.

Im not going to lie and say that I was magically swept away by the country or the culture there is a reason why there is only one flag on the moon. I will say there was natural beauty in the landscape but the towns were less than desirable. When we stopped in Antigua (which was the former capital) and had lunch I noticed that there was charm in the cobble stone streets and Spanish architecture but it was a city in decay and part of that maybe due to the fact that the President and VP were caught embezzling money from a country thats primary exports is Coffee and sugarcane. Which in the past has shown to offer a lower return than the CoCo plant not only from the black market but also from US Aid to combat Narcoterrorism but C’est La Vie.

After a quick walk around the block a delicious lunch washed down with a couple Gallo’s #GuatamalanBeer It was off to La Avellana AKA the village but not that shit movie from M Night Shamalan but the place and people we came to help.

When we arrived at the Well site where the water had been tapped we were met with a parade of young and old literally. Treated to the sounds of Obnoxiously loud Music and Spanish mumbling as we paraded down the 1 and a 1/4 miles that we would be running pipe to the homes and town square. Once in town we supported the local economy by buying some ice cold Gallo’s to beat off the warm evening sat through a few speeches and packed up and headed into Taxisco the comparative big city of which La Avellana would consider itself a rural suburb. Taxisco was very much like many cities I had lived in the past #Fallujah #Ramadi where the streets were dirty and filled with skinny, effeminate brown men the only major difference is none of these guys tried to kill me and my friends. In all honesty I felt absolutely safe. Despite the fact that their was concern for our well being do to the recent political turmoil.

Ill some up the work experience throughout the trip by saying it was a world turned upside. It was the Gringos who got picked up at the Home Depot and road in the back of a pick-up to the job site, we were legal and instead of working for pennies on the dollar (in their case the Quetzale or as we would refer to as pretzels) some of us actually paid to be there. Altruistic tourism its a great way to alleviate yourself of that pesky white guilt. The fringe benefits of it are you can out liberal anyone in the states for actually putting “skin in the game” and the pictures you take with impoverished brown kids will guarantee a right swipe on your Tinder profile. One common mistake that many make when people are so in love with the idea of helping others is they forget to look at the reality of the situation they are in and what caused those people to be there. Being bluntly honest with these good intentioned young men I caught initial scorn I referred to the local populace as uneducated, immigrant, day laborers who couldn’t manage something as important as fresh water without outside help. After a statement like that people asked why I even came on the trip if thats how I saw them. My retort was to bring fresh water to those in need regardless of there disposition.  As cold hearted as my comments may have been to give them anything less would be a disservice and to expect anything more would be an equal disservice because you are giving people unearned credit and anything that is unearned is undervalued and unfair expectations of which people will fall short will produce misdirected ire by expecting to much. #HerosAlwaysFallShort

That very first day on the job my young Padawan’s came to learn there was some wisdom that rang true in my words. For we worked for about 6 hours back filling all the pipe that had been laid up until that point and right before we broke for chow showing up hours late was a fucking John Deere BackHoe. Which they had on loan for 4 days and the hourly rate is 60 dollars an hour American. Once that bad Larry arrived on the job to say everyone was a little disheartened would be an understatement. For anyone who is unaware of the capabilities of that machine what literally took us all morning to complete could have been done in less than 5 min. So after the days work was completed I went to our project leader and voiced my grievances and to his credit he weighed what I said and told me the main reason why we were there was to put a face to the money and let the Guatemalans run the show. I was told to stop being such a Marine and to give into the reality of what it was. I was deflated but if I had learned anything from the Marine Corps it was how to #EmbraceTheSuck. There is something liberating about freeing your mind of responsibility my initial misgivings about the operation came to fruition but now I was here and I decided to make the best of it. As the next few days past more villagers and a good amount of children came out and were apart of the project even after we would go back to Taxisco and get some sleep more villagers would toil through the night. Reflecting back maybe there lack of presence during the day was potentially due to other work requirements or maybe it was due to the political upheaval I cant confirm or deny that but on the last day of having the tractor I’ll be god dammed if we as a collective team didn’t accomplish the mission. #MarinesAlwaysAccomplishTheMission. With that said  I understand just giving people a blank check without putting a face to the money the project wouldn’t be respected the same way. My one real criticism was the mission wasn’t completed in the most efficient way and in not doing so I feel we failed to educate them in the proper implementation of resources so that what would appear to be future Herculean tasks could be completed using less man-power and time but fuck it they now have fresh water.

After leaving the village and heading back for our last night in Taxisco which happened to correspond with the night prior to the election. We walked home from a dinner and oddly enough some of  the crew met up with some local doctors and lawyers some of whom had lived in the states and were invited in for some beers. After about 20 min of wondering where they went myself and another from my crew went into the house to say hello and grab the key to get back to the hostel. We were greeted with smiles offered some Gallo’s but something wasn’t sitting right with me. After one gregarious

The thing I found most entertaining about the entire experience is the turn in the men I worked with.

The last 4 months is the longest Ive spent inside America over the last 2 years. Due to my premature departure from Afghanistan I was hoping to use this time to establish a steady sustainable lifestyle that would give me the stability and mental clarity to not need to return to Kabul. Well its looking like that was a wash and I am now in the twilight of my extended stay in America. The initial homecoming and the month of April was spent with helping friends check into rehab or trying to stop them from checking out on life. In May I moved thru Europe like Patton on a blitzkrieg of European cities waxing philosophically and dropping panties like mix-tapes. Preparing for my real mission… Operation June. A Pan-California adventure with my children which was the first time I genuinely smiled while home… July had been spent trying new opportunities not only in the work place but also with the heart. August thus far I am completing another trek with my children this one to New Orleans #NOLA where we spent the time with family and catching some culture. After an amazing summer I feel fat, restless and I can see that “Winter is coming” so I will spend these next 3 weeks settling affairs, binging on love and traveling to Guatemala to dig a well to spread peace before I go back to War. Recently I had my Canadian friends tell me I come out like a bottle of Johnny Blue and it makes the occasion special. What they fail to realize is I they are not the only ones. Everyone in my life gets a limited amount of time with me. So when together we drink and taste the best of each other and once the bottle is empty I leave to start the aging process again.

To anyone I have met in my travels over the past few months wether we shared a night or a month together I was genuine for my time is finite and I only enjoy the best in all things. Everyone should…

God Bless America #ApplePie #Jesus #FreedomAndBaseball

I woke up this morning hung over from a night out with a friend who was deploying to Iraq this week. I got a Facebook invite from Jodie a person who works for the Force Recon Association asking me if I wanted to volunteer to help homeless veterans. Initially I said fuck yeah because I always wanted to meet the person who fucked all my friends wives whilst on deployment. So when SHE showed up I was amazed to find that Jodie was a girl and all my friends wives were apparently Bi-curious but hey its PRIDE weekend in San Diego. She picked me up and we went on a trip downtown and initially got lost in east village, Logon Barrio and Skid Row. After seeing the rainbow of people and poverty it instantly put me out of my comfort zone. Although I wanted to abort the mission the thing that made me embrace the cause was that the Christ that I claim to follow would have already been there spreading hope and love in the place I would typically have avoided. After being lost by her XX chromosomes lack of direction we finally found ourselves where we needed to be. We checked in at the volunteer section and were ushered to work the baggage section. Which to the uniformed was were the homeless vets checked their belongings so they could go to the different booths to get haircuts, showers, meals and treatment so they could rehabilitate their lives. I met some of the volunteers who were working the event all weekend and I was given a quick in-brief and passed the torch #TheSharpy to ensure that people received their worldey possessions before going back into society. When I arrived the pace was slow and it seemed more like a networking event with representatives from #TeamRubican and other charities of people trying to make a difference. I was working the front table and people would give me a ticket so I could pass the info on to other volunteers so we could retrieve their bags. Initially the day was slow but as the rain clouds began to gather the “March of the Homeless” became a title wave of people. Which was a lot less cute than the “March of the Penguins”. I had to fall back and help with the onslaught of people trying to get their back packs, shopping carts and bikes. Its always sunny in San Diego but today a monsoon hit and in honesty I couldn’t have been more thankful because it helped wash away the stench of reality that hit my nostrils and soul. The next few hours were a bler of hunting for bags for people who literally had nothing. Having them describe their possessions made me put my own in perspective. The variance of the veterans appeared full spectrum because I saw men and women who appeared put together and others whom I saw more teeth on an apple trying to claim nothing more than a back pack with only sheets and blankets. I don’t want to wax philosophically about how they came to that point in life but I do want to bring awareness to the fact there is a world that exists within my city that is out of my concept of reality. Some were grateful others were crippled by the thought of not finding their things which would mean that they were with nothing (Don’t worry we found their things it just took time.) I walked away from this event soaked to the bone and with a new found perspective of the struggles that exist and could exist in my own life. Although I may live a life of perceived opulence i recognize the value on what I hold truly means nothing compared to someone who can buy the world. What I learned today is that the human problems that exist on the planet transcend socioeconomic boundaries and in the end helping those who perceivably have nothing showed me all that I have. I finished the day wish a shower and a pub crawl because Im hopelessly lost in my own disfunction with a new friend and I didn’t want to soberly face my own reality.

The adventure begins the way every adventure starts with my friends. “After a long hard night of partying I licked the plate and opened a beer.” Hambone(aka Slice) came to and we had already decided today would be the day we set sail but we were in need of a vessel. So the first rule of any pirate is commandeer a vessel. So we went over to our friends house in Golden Hill who told me I could have a raft for this little adventure and it was located on the porch. Only 1 problem the front door was locked and no one was home. next thing you know I’m removing the screen from a window and jumping right thru. Over all time on target was less than 3 min and the only reason it took that long was the raft had been returned to the shed (because I came a couple days late for the raft.) After the target was acquired I went to make my escape out the window and Slice had put the screen back up and was standing look out at the end of the drive way. Nothing like starting your day with a professional B&E. It also shows you the guise of safety most people live in because a metal door and a pit bull may deter most at the front door but slipping in thru the side with a dog treat is the combination to most security systems.

Now that we had a boat we needed an engine we debated weather to go to Walgreens or Target but we didn’t want to be deterred from our objective so we agreed “if Odin wills it.” and he did for when we got to OB we saw this cute beachey rocker chick and we asked were we could get some paddles. Since she lead us in the direction of a locally owned business we decided to support the local economy and not raid it. So now we had our vessel and our engine time to build the boat and set sail. 1 problem this was an inflatable raft and if we wanted to spend our day blowing something it wasn’t going to be a raft from REI. After asking a few people in the parking lot we struck gold and it was time to build the boat. Then it was high boat carry to the river christen the USS Sea-Word #Cword and set sail. For those not aquatinted with the San Diego river it starts at the Ocean and pushes thru mission valley. We weren’t shore how far we were going to take it before we ran ashore but in our minds next stop Arizona and if we ran out of supplies aka beer along the way we would go ashore and raid local business and escape back to the low-seas.

For the most part the the voyage really took place in our minds as we talked about life and the secrets of the universe (with a dick joke sporadically thrown in there from time to time). Then we started to get into Mission Valley (which I would have love to have scene before all the condos and shopping malls.) were every so often we would have to push ashore and launch reconnaissance for where we could relaunch the Sea-Word for we fell upon a man made dam and of course it was time to take a shot of Jack.

Just as we were about to shove off again a camper came on our pos and we had a 5 min conversation about life and collecting cans. If you notice I said camper and not homeless for that is what she self identified as and I would say in life how people define themselves is who they are. The really cool thing about our exchange is we were just people not homeless or privileged its funny how much different homeless people act when they think your in the club. They are friendly they talk and engage they aren’t the crazy awkward people you always see. (Try and spend 1 day on the street and look the part and the people who look and act weird is everyone else.)  So after spending 5min hearing about her life we never talked about struggles just our own perspective reality. She told us how much she makes in a day collecting cans and how she is happy as long as she has her cigarettes. That tripped me out that she works however many hours a day just to earn a pack of smokes. In that moment it occurred to me that we all do the same thing but instead of cigs its a car, house or whatever other vice we fancy but the human emotions and the human interaction is essentially the same wether your “camping” in mission valley or balling in La Jolla.   

Anyway after we said our goodbyes we set sail again and eventually we hit Arizona which oddly enough looked like hotel circle in mission valley. So we punched our way thru the wilderness and called Carlos for a ride. All in all it was a fun adventure and we tried to get every experience we could out of it and I know what your thinking why didn’t you get a blow job from that can lady at least for the story and the answer is “There are some stories even I just don’t want.”

Fair-Winds and Following Seas,

Beaux

Ive been doing some thinking about the Marine Corps open call for Recon Marines and one thought reoccurs in my head about their inability to fill or maintain the manning of the Reconnaissance Community. That is the fact that do to global instability the gunslinger trade has gotten a taste of capitalism and men who have earned a degree in pain, suffering and misery decided to take “their special set of skillz” and be properly compensated and respected in the private sector. A lot of people try to demonize this sort of action by calling us un-patriotic animals who only care about money. #Mercenaries To those individuals I say “Go fuck yourself!!!” #FuckBitchesGetMoney then I drive off in my BMW and check the time on my Rolex. The reality of it is every man I have ever worked with in the contracting game is still a patriot but in the truest form. Not in the blind patriotism of Drink beer, eat bacon, flag wavin’ #Merica bullshit that seems to be trending now a days but are more from the school of Stand Up for Whats Right, Defend the Constitution, put holes in evil motha fuckers and question a government that tries to enact laws that seem to undermine the basic principles of that which makes our nation great.

So why the mass exodus of those Hard Dick War Animals from the Marine Corps Force and Battalion Reconnaissance community with some men having served 8-12 years? The answer is simple- Recon Marines just ask themselves one simple question. Why get shit on CONSTANTLY with no recognition or pay? Their response is “Fuck It. Im going to grow a beard, get sleeves and get paid.” With the Marine Corps obsession with haircuts, tattoo’s and constant attempt of trying to rob you of any self worth it’s like the classic rebellion story of kids who leave a super conservative home. So the Marine Corps literally pushes out their best men (That they spent the most money training) right out the door and whatever ones that don’t try to strike it out on their own decide to go over to MARSOC. Where falling under SOCOM is like getting taken in by a rich celebrity couple who adopts kids from different special-ops communities and you get a phat allowance and the coolest toys.

On the the higher tier contracts that require special operations experience always seem to be crawling with Recon Marines. Its like we all figured out Doctors spend 8 years in school learning how to patch holes on people to make a grip of money and we spent 8 years putting holes in evil and can make the same money. The next logical step is go make some of dat White Man’s Money and have Cocaine adventures with morally casual women.” Im not saying Recon Marines don’t spend their days looking back at their time in the Marines through Rose colored glasses but their also not naive enough to go sign up for apple pie and baseball again. If we want to spend all our time giving our lives to something that will never love us back instead of staying in the marines we’d rather marry a stripper. I honestly don’t know how the Marine Corps can stop the Hemorrhaging of seasoned Recon Marines but here is a few of ways I think can help.

1st- Learn how to properly employ us. (NEWSFLASH Force Recon is your direct action asset not MARSOC. #MARSOCworksForSOCOM Thats why you brought Force back)
2nd- Only bother us when you need shit 1-8-Sevened. Otherwise leave us the fuck alone and let us go to our pipeline schools.
3rd- Big fat Money Checks (You cant give us the SOCOM pay so give us a fatter bonus than MARSOC. Remember Recon works directly for you MARSOC works for SOCOM)
4th- Repeal the tattoo policy (The army saw how that DQ’d so many solid dudes)
5th- Let us wear silkies again #SkiesOutThighsOut

I didn’t mention anything about Book or Movie deals because that market is already pretty well cornered by the Seal’s and would go against the concept of the true Silent professionals we are. The words of our brotherhood were best put into context by a SARC brother #SpecialAmphibiousReconnaissanceCorpsman Carlos Aquino when he said.

“We honor our own. Every Recon Marine was told at the start of his career that there will be no movies made of you, no songs sung, no posters, no pretty women. There is only pain, misery and suffering waiting for you here. If you ever hope to have a normal life, go home now. Walking dead men we are. True silent professionals. Dead men tell no tales. There is no questioning why a Recon Marine chose his path. NEVER ABOVE YOU. NEVER BELOW YOU, ALWAYS BESIDE YOU.”

Before the beginning seems to be a good place to start this saga… dudely doot, dudely doot, dudely doot ‪#‎WaynesWorld‬. Back in 2004 I made a movement from Ramadi to Baghdad and instead of a bomb over Baghdad ‪#‎OutKast‬ I met one road side. Thank god though there was a gnarly sand storm so there timing was off otherwise instead of our Northern bell getting rung our Southern bells may have been blown off. ‪#‎DickJoke‬
Anyway back to topic I want to finish this before the anesthetic wears off and Im still dancing behind this door of perception. I wont leave anyone in suspense everything appears to have went well but it will take a couple of weeks to see whether or not I make a full recovery. I went in @0600 on Jun 15 2015(Im assuming its still the same date and year). It took about 2 years to get my surgery date ‪#‎TheJoysOfSocializedMedicine‬ and that date was pushed back a month because my doctor was on vacation and not due to a faulty memory that the VA initially tried to pass off on me….. but I digress. After changing into my gown and shower cap my doctors did a “Huddle around my bed about my Adam’s apple shaving and breast augmentation… Wait sorry I have to wait another year before that ‪#‎ThanksVA‬. They told me I was having a prosthetic bone put in my ear and fix the eardrum apparently before they could begin they sprung on me that they were going to have to drill into my head so they could get to that little piece of brain that insists on maintaining my independence and free will.‪#‎LiveFreeOrDie‬
All joking aside I dont remember much else besides from trying to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible and flirting with Margo my anastetheologist ‪#‎HorribleNameButBrazilianAss‬ I came to. In my final dreams before consciousness were of my kids and my need to get back to them and when I woke I found I had a huge swollen lip. Apparently during surgery I became semi-conscious and started making disparaging comments about my doctors Semitic ancestry and thats how they chose to re-sedate me. As far as I can tell everything was a success and I am ready to turn in my guns and support Hillary in 2016 ‪#‎BestLabotomyEver‬