I am seeing the bunker more than my room. First two hours in the morning then last night at 1206 am; 0006 for those of you keeping score at home. Enough with the "Rocket............attack....rocket attack." OK, I get it. I thought that maybe I was dreaming. I was in that just went to bed and I'm sound asleep and comfy mode. But up I got. Not too many folks got up. Apparently they were more comfy than I was. Z is mad because I didn't wake her up. I could barely wake me up. She said I left her there to die. Drama much? I told her that if she got killed, then I would come and wake her up. And I would change her Facebook status. What are friends for.
On the good side, this week I have had real bangers and mash at the British dfac and shepherd's pie. Life is good. In the morning we are going to the french PX for real fruit smoothies and chicken mushroom quiche. War is hell. And it's making me fat
| C'est la guerre |
| C'est la quiche I tried to take picture of a bunker but my camera was on video so there's just an inanimate concrete building doing nothing. Not exactly "National Geographic." I broke the zipper on my boot so now I'm tying myself into said boot until replacements arrive. I blame the Taliban. And Converse. I love these boots. But why a zipper? C'est la boot. Or Das Boot or Ok I'l stop now.. |
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