Insomnia sucks.
It happens on occasion, and hopefully this occasion has just about run its course. I don't even need to look at the alarm to know that it has been right around 3 hours, 10 minutes.
Wide awake.
Crap.
Thinking about sleepy time a few years ago.
The Oorah bus was an old school bus that was 'donated' to the Corps, painted (disguised from recovery?) white, gold and red with a garish Marine Corps motto logo, complete with bull dog, 'semper fi', and about every other symbol remotely related to the Corps. Not really something to be used for covert insertions. What we did use it for, were the occasions that a large number of Marines needed to go off base for a non-formal occasion, like parades, award ceremonies, Toys for Tots, etc.
I don't remember what occasion we were going to, but there was only about one platoon in the bus, one evening. Naturally, that evening was on the weekend, when only the very best parties, filled with freaky deaky wimmens were sure to be on their very 'best' behaviour. To say that we were kind of grumpy to be voluntold for some duty or the other would be a slight understatement.
The interior of the bus had, instead of the normal, forward facing cushion seats, long wooden benches that lined the windows. There was also one bench that ran the length of the bus, right down the middle. The slats weren't very wide, just enough room to get enough of your butt on the wood, not enough to get comfy. Definitely not wide enough to sleep on. There was a caged compartment in the rear of the bus, used for sea bags, crew-served weapons, and other miscellaneous gear.
It was late in the evening / early in the morning, and we still weren't where we were heading. Some of the more sleep-gifted Marines has proped their feet on the portion of the bench facing them, stuffing their ass in the back of their own bench, propped their back against the windows, and commenced snooze time. The cage was long since claimed for the senior Marines' rack ops. To my eternal joy, I discovered that a large portion of the deck underneath the bench was unclaimed. I scooted down, ignored a few comments and the occasional boot, folded my arms behind my head, and stretched out for a little snooze.
I remember, half awake, hearing muttered conversation of some Marines that decided any efforts at sleep were wasted. They remained awake, providing a running commentary on the Corps, passing civilian traffic, and the like. Whenever they would spot a good looking girl, they would think of all the good parties that they were missing, by being stuck with a bunch of stinky dudes.
A horn started blowing.
Normally, this would be due to the driver, one Lance Corporal Sleepy. Lcpl. Sleepy, for whatever reason, was one of the few guys that had gone through the certifications for driving just about every vehicle the Corps had. It was an ongoing plan that we would send more Marines to be certified, but for a long while, not too much was officially done. He was usually driving, and I suspect that he was a closet narcoleptic. Horns a-blowin' when he was driving was not always a rare event.
The horns were not due to his driving, this time, however. A small red pick-up truck had pulled up along side of the Oorah bus, and started honking the horn. Two 'ladies' started to hang out the window, giving thumbs up, blowing kisses, and waving.
This, amazing as it might sound, got some attention on the bus.
A few of the guys stirred enough to sit up and glance out the window.
A few windows were opened.
A few comments were returned to the red pick-up.
Now, I appreciate the ladies as much as the next guy, but there is something that we used to call the 'cammie effect'. The theory goes as follows, when a man puts on the cammies, and knows that women are a no-go (for however short a period of time), the ladies get more attractive by a factor of 10. Actually similar to when I put on the dress blues. Marine dress blues will make even a schmuck look half way presentable.
Therefore, I figured, when with a platoon of Marines, a couple of guys proclaiming 'hot chicks off the port side", the definition of hotness could reasonably be suspect.
"TITTIES!!!"
...that filled the air. Friendly girls, they were.
Can you guess what happened?
Yup, I bolted up (to admonish the guys, say a few prayers for their hedonistic souls, and to cover those poor girls who can find nothing to cover themselves, sure), and promptly discovered that one should always maintain situational awareness. Even while sleeping. With a hard wooden bench about 8 inches above one's head.
Crap.
It happens on occasion, and hopefully this occasion has just about run its course. I don't even need to look at the alarm to know that it has been right around 3 hours, 10 minutes.
Wide awake.
Crap.
Thinking about sleepy time a few years ago.
The Oorah bus was an old school bus that was 'donated' to the Corps, painted (disguised from recovery?) white, gold and red with a garish Marine Corps motto logo, complete with bull dog, 'semper fi', and about every other symbol remotely related to the Corps. Not really something to be used for covert insertions. What we did use it for, were the occasions that a large number of Marines needed to go off base for a non-formal occasion, like parades, award ceremonies, Toys for Tots, etc.
I don't remember what occasion we were going to, but there was only about one platoon in the bus, one evening. Naturally, that evening was on the weekend, when only the very best parties, filled with freaky deaky wimmens were sure to be on their very 'best' behaviour. To say that we were kind of grumpy to be voluntold for some duty or the other would be a slight understatement.
The interior of the bus had, instead of the normal, forward facing cushion seats, long wooden benches that lined the windows. There was also one bench that ran the length of the bus, right down the middle. The slats weren't very wide, just enough room to get enough of your butt on the wood, not enough to get comfy. Definitely not wide enough to sleep on. There was a caged compartment in the rear of the bus, used for sea bags, crew-served weapons, and other miscellaneous gear.
It was late in the evening / early in the morning, and we still weren't where we were heading. Some of the more sleep-gifted Marines has proped their feet on the portion of the bench facing them, stuffing their ass in the back of their own bench, propped their back against the windows, and commenced snooze time. The cage was long since claimed for the senior Marines' rack ops. To my eternal joy, I discovered that a large portion of the deck underneath the bench was unclaimed. I scooted down, ignored a few comments and the occasional boot, folded my arms behind my head, and stretched out for a little snooze.
I remember, half awake, hearing muttered conversation of some Marines that decided any efforts at sleep were wasted. They remained awake, providing a running commentary on the Corps, passing civilian traffic, and the like. Whenever they would spot a good looking girl, they would think of all the good parties that they were missing, by being stuck with a bunch of stinky dudes.
A horn started blowing.
Normally, this would be due to the driver, one Lance Corporal Sleepy. Lcpl. Sleepy, for whatever reason, was one of the few guys that had gone through the certifications for driving just about every vehicle the Corps had. It was an ongoing plan that we would send more Marines to be certified, but for a long while, not too much was officially done. He was usually driving, and I suspect that he was a closet narcoleptic. Horns a-blowin' when he was driving was not always a rare event.
The horns were not due to his driving, this time, however. A small red pick-up truck had pulled up along side of the Oorah bus, and started honking the horn. Two 'ladies' started to hang out the window, giving thumbs up, blowing kisses, and waving.
This, amazing as it might sound, got some attention on the bus.
A few of the guys stirred enough to sit up and glance out the window.
A few windows were opened.
A few comments were returned to the red pick-up.
Now, I appreciate the ladies as much as the next guy, but there is something that we used to call the 'cammie effect'. The theory goes as follows, when a man puts on the cammies, and knows that women are a no-go (for however short a period of time), the ladies get more attractive by a factor of 10. Actually similar to when I put on the dress blues. Marine dress blues will make even a schmuck look half way presentable.
Therefore, I figured, when with a platoon of Marines, a couple of guys proclaiming 'hot chicks off the port side", the definition of hotness could reasonably be suspect.
As I was still underneath the bench, vainly plugging away at this fantasy of 'sleep', I was wholly unprepared for the mad rush of Marines to the left side of the bus and the unified howl of
"TITTIES!!!"
...that filled the air. Friendly girls, they were.
Can you guess what happened?
Yup, I bolted up (to admonish the guys, say a few prayers for their hedonistic souls, and to cover those poor girls who can find nothing to cover themselves, sure), and promptly discovered that one should always maintain situational awareness. Even while sleeping. With a hard wooden bench about 8 inches above one's head.
Crap.
6 comments:
Haha! That'll leave a mark.
I've seen multi car pileups due to a girl walking in a bikini. It's inevitable.
Question: What is it about fleshy lumps on the front of a body of a female type that is so appealing?
I only complain because I don't really have enough to use them to my advantage, and still too much to stay out of the way when I'm doing things :P
Murph,
I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you never did see the, uhhh, "pair."
Farmgirl,
There's no such thing as "not enough to use them to my advantage." Trust me on this...
tweaker
'Bout the only thing I saw was stars and little tweety birds. According to popular description, they were an outstanding pair, but if you recall the cammie theory, that verdict is likewise suspect. And as far as your no such thing comment, Amen.
farmgirl, you can too use them nefariously!
As to why they're appealing, think about those stress relief toys: they're squishy, simple, and gratifying. Tits are like that, but better. Also, not only are they fun to play with by themselves, you can play with them in a manner that gets another toy ready.
I've got DDD cups. I regularly cross my arms under them in class, and jiggle them to my heart's content. They're so much fun.
Amen.
Post a Comment