I have a couple of post I need to do besides this boring ol' USO staple...but MFM is a little bitter that I didn't post any escapades from my last USO shift and since he's off fighting a war or something, I thought I owed him this favor tonight. Really, it's the least that I can do for him.

If you've read for a while, you know that Terminal D is usually a dead zone. Clearly, word has gotten out that they are sticking me over there more often and all my military friends are dropping by to say "Hi!" and ask absurd questions that no one would know the answer to like, "Where's the closest ATM?" Folks, I had to read the terminal map. This was a disaster in the making. But it worked out okay and now all my friends at the USO - Term D know where that hidden little machine is located. Can I get a HIGH FIVE?!

On with the countdown...

10. I work in the IT field I break crap all day and then I get paid to fix it. It's a known fact that I hate to do IT support outside the office. So, imagine my HORROR when someone asks me to help setup the aircard we provide at the USO and it didn't work. I did what all well educated IT folks do when under pressure: I told him to reboot and when that didn't fix it I blamed the equipment.

9. Term D is kinda a nightmare for me when it gets down to closing time. First and foremost because that was around the time THE INCIDENT happened and I'm always on the lookout for anyone looking a little green around the gills...but I digress. We don't get the cleaning crew stopping by to sack up the trash, we have to bag it ourselves and find a place to dump it. They have placed a trash can between us and Popeye's next door, so that's where we go BUT as I was heading there tonight, I saw the cleaning lady across the moving sidewalk thing and felt guilty. Ashamed. Like I was doing something wrong. So I approach her, she speaks no English and I speak no Spanish - we got along FAMOUSLY!!! She was so sweet to take my trash and then using hand signals I told her I had one more and bless her sweet little heart, she actually followed me over to get it. I saw her eyeing my tie job with the new trash bag but she was so sweet she didn't say anything I could understand to my face.

Side Note: I also took my coffee pot to Popeye's and they cleaned it for me. Others have told me this tactic works but I was never brave enough to test it out before tonight. This says a lot about my state of mind after two hours of screaming kids and Open Season on the DVD...

8. The Chaplin came by to visit me. I had posted an APB for his whereabouts because I hadn't seen him since October. He's my very favorite man of the cloth. He's full of stories and sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if my parents had found a spiritual leader like him instead of Robert Tilton...but I don't like to think about my childhood all that much...BMW CLUB IN DA HOUSE!!!

7. The Chaplin kept telling me, after child after child after child came into the USO, that I'm a kid magnet. What can I say? It doesn't take much for me to drop down to their level. They L-O-V-E me. My two favorites questions of the night? "What's the USO?" (I answered a service organization...and his eyes glazed over so we started talking about Japan) and "What's this?" (I answered this question at least a million times but she was adorable and I didn't mind at all...even when she pointed to unmentionables we stock for the women folk).

6. As I stopped by the Term B Club to check in with my TL, she brought up THE INCIDENT and mentioned that I might want to see if we had any Lysol products that I could take over with me...JUST IN CASE (Followed by laughter). Okay, I get it. I'm still traumatized and it's still funny. Har.

5. A Mom told me she really loved the USO because this one time she'd had a little too much to drink on a flight to Maryland and the nice ladies at the USO watched her kids while she took some time to recover. Yes, she did say that to me. Outloud. I can only hope I have the courage to do that one day.

4. The best commercial from the big game was the NBC LMAO commercial. Comedy gold right there.

3. The Chaplin decided to hang out in B for a little longer than he usually does (like 3 hours longer) but we were short handed so it worked out perfect. The thing about him is he's pretty darn good friends with several of the volunteers and they started talking about tamborines. At his ordaining ceremony. I about peed my pants.

2. I was exhausted and zoned out on cold medicine still coursing through my veins from Friday and Saturday so I kinda wandered from job to job in term B. Mostly to places that had chairs so I could slump. I had spent some time at the bar talking to this AF guy before I felt like I was going to collapse. I headed to the front to slump and some time later he comes around from the bar, locks eyes on me and says, "There you are!" Much to my fellow volunteers delight. I'm pretty sure he'll be back some Sunday. I had to explain that I'd never seen the guy before...and deny, deny, deny gets you nowhere but the hot seat. Geez. I'm basically high, cut me a break. He just wanted to say goodbye. Geez.

1. So, while I'm slumping I'm missing the game. A bunch of groans rocked the rafter so I slide around to the bar to see what I had missed.

Chellie: I always miss the good plays.
My Fav Soldier of the Shift: They'll show the replay.
Chellie: (Zones out, focuses on pretty lights in Pepsi cooler)
MFSofS: Hey! They are showing the replay.
Chellie: Oh, man! He ran it back for a TD?
MFSofS: He intercepted the pass.
Chellie: Look at him just lying there.
MFSofS: He's a big guy.
Chellie: One of the fat guys?
MFSofS: Yeah. Wonder if he passed out?
Chellie: I know I would have.
MFSofS: (Gives me the once over) Nah, I could make it, so could you. It's only a hundred yards.
Chellie: (please he has faith in me) I did run track in Junior High.
MFSofS: (disappointed clouds his vision) Okay, well I definitely could have made it.
Chellie: (sad, but understands he's right) Yeah.

There you go. Insert Angels singing. I'm exhausted but still high on life from BJ Penn getting the crapola beat out of him by my future husband, Georges. Oh, how I love him. And his perfect chest. Arms. Legs. Those blue eyes. The accent. Sigh.

I digress...and that's another post...that I should have wrote last night for all those haters.

This one's for you MFM...stop hate mailing me. ;-)

Peace out, mortals. Saving the world one 100 yard something-or-other at a time...