2012. Is the world going to end...again?

I partied like a rockstar last night. An old tired, cold, too lazy to get dressed and go outside, rock star. I had plans of finding bagpipes. I did go look. At noon. A flyer, or something. No luck. I had a quiet dinner with Karki. He is my best friend, right hand man and confidant here. I scream across the clinic, Karki, you Nepalese Bastard!" This is a vestige of my British imperlism. I am either calling him a sherpa or a Gerka. He is acting as a Regional Operations manager or ROM. So now I am calling him "Rom Doss Sherpa Karki." And we laugh and laugh.  A lot and loud. I probably shouldn't do it. But, like waiting until E is drinking milk so it comes out of her nose when I make her laugh, I can't help myself. He shouldn't laugh, it only encourages me. He really is my friend. I would not of made it this long without him. And he told me the same thing. If I will miss anything about this place it is my friend, Karki. You Nepalese bastard. He is a paramedic here but is the equivalent of a PA back in Nepal. Make no mistake, this is his clinic, I just work here. It was his birthday awhile ago and he was at another base. He had a pizza dinner and cake there. He came back and I wanted to buy him something special. He smokes like a fiend. Like everyone else here. So I found a very nice lighter that could be engraved. It had Achmed the dead terrorist on one side with "I kill you." And I had "you nepalese bastard" engraved on the other side. Karki said he will never use it to light a cigarette. He will just look at it and laugh. E finds this all quite appalling. I think that if Karki and I were in High School together, we would be spending a lot of time in the Principal's office. I feel that it is my job to teach him horrible american sayings. He loves,"muck muck." He says "muckily muck." So now I say "muckily muck." He also sings the first line of American songs. Over and over and over. Jingle bells was his last victim. Then he breaks into a dance. And we laugh. He loves catching me doing something stupid. Which is quite often. He comes in, sits in my chair and says, "Doc, how come you can't tell the difference between a man and a woman?" I checked the wrong box on a consult form.
So kill me. He says, "In my country we know the difference." I say,"in your country you eat Yak." And we laugh. Political correctness is not a high priority in our relationship.