bass pro sucked ass as normal......well, not as bad as normal, they did have winchester 7rem mag brass at a decent price, had to hunt down a salesgirl to hand me a rifle scope I wanted to look at, she didn't look to enthusiastic, must have known I was a tirekicker.

then I went to OA, shit it must have been real slow today, or I must have looked like a criminal or mental reject (unshaven, dirty clothes, dark glasses, dark skin) because every salesman in the place asked if I needed some help, two of them asked multiple times; and damned if I didn't run off and forget the bag of 180gr lrn .401 bullets I went there to buy.

I'll be working at Bass Pro on Sunday if any of you assclowns wants to come over and say hi.

sounds like a shanghi trick

I keel you!

whooops........did I accidently spring your trap?

you know that big conex container next to your sign up table should have given it away anyway

You're too old anyway.

fat, lazy and can't take even the ass chewings I do deserve too

I might enlist if you can guarantee a rank of colonel or above.
I'd prefer General but I realize I'd have to start at an entry level.

Last time I said hi to a recruiter...

Well, you know the rest.

He picked you out of the crowd because of  the lost look in your eyes and the huge wart on your nose?

You wound up with a garage full of Dillon equipment and motorcycles, a bigass goatee, a retirement check, PX and commissary privileges, and health care for life?



 

Yep, except for the lost look and the wart, you're spot on.

So there are some positive aspects, I won't deny it.

Are you still pissed about the Rear D thing?



 

Nah, it was good deal and I asked for it. I only wish I had known beforehand how difficult it was going to be.

It did save me from a likely sit-on-my-ass for twelve months staff job in Africa.

I learned more about the ins and outs of Army property management in one year than I had in the previous nineteen.  Too bad I'll probably never be able to use what I learned.

N-E-T-W-O-R-K-I-N-G

I can still understand you when you spell it, Chuck.

This isn't like me and the wife talking about taking the dog to the V-E-T

My dogs can spell

mine can too, took him to the vet the other day for shots and the vet held my dogs ears and said "do you want to have him "C-a-s-t-r-a-t-e-d" also while we got him here?"  

my dog's eyes got all wide and he tapped out in mores code with his left foot "I-F  Y-O-U  D-O, T-H-E-N  E-U-T-H-A-N-I-Z-E  M-E  T-O-O..........!!!!!!!!!!"

although the current dog I got isn't by far the smartest dog I ever owned, that dog was some 20 odd years back, had owned bob since I was in my early teens, took'em to college with me.

I came from a pretty strict upbringing, so when I got to college I went pretty wild with the skanks and booze, went through my tuition funds pretty damn quick; and there I was, in bad need of $5k pdq, so I get the idea to call my pop up, but I couldn't just ask for money, so I lied.

so I called up and my pop asked how I liked college, told him it was great and there was this professor that claimed to be able to teach dogs to talk, my pop said that's great, and I said yeah, but tuition is $5k per semester, that afternoon I got a check for $5k; well hell I spent that money damn fast and was in need of another $5k.

so I called up my pop and told him how great college was going, and bob's progress, and that the professor claimed that bob was the smartest dog he'd even taught, and that he thought bob would also do well in reading, writting and arithmatic, but that course was $10k a semester; well shit my pop sent that check express; and I spent it even quicker than the first $10k.

so I called up my pop again and told him that the professor said bob would do well learning a bit of history, but that course cost another $5k a semester, so my pop figuring history was an important part of schooling sent the money.

well christmas break came along and me and bob started driving back to little axe, and the closer we got to home the more worried I was cause my pop was going to want to talk with bob, and bob was just a dog, he couldn't read, write, add/subtract or quote history, so pulled over to the side of the highway and kicked him out.

well I pull upto the house a couple of hours later and sure enough my pop comes running out and says "where's bob, I got so much I want to ask him".

and I tell my pop "pop, I had to put old bob down"

and my pop screams "what the hell you'd do that for, I done spent $20k for him to be able to talk, read, write and arithmatic?"

so I say "well pop, there we was driving back home, and we was all excited because we knew you'd want to talk with bob and all", so we was talking and "bob say's hey ND, you know if I had thumbs I'm pretty sure I could learn sign languge pretty quick"

and I said "yeah bob, what the fuck you want to learn sign languge for?" and bob replied "well ND, if I knew how to sign, then I wouldn't have to write everything out when I'm conversing with deaf people" and I replied "bob, that'd just be a waste of money, cause you know deaf people can read lips"

and my pop says "so, you killed him because he wanted to learn sign languge?"

and I replied "no pop, I killed him because we was talking about this and that, and bob says "hey ND, you think your pop is still fucking the neighbor lady everytime he tells your mom he's going golfing?"

and my pop looked me strait in the eye and said "ND, did you say something eloquent when you buired him?"