If you're not on the East Coast of the United States, please excuse the following well wishes for a region normally beset by blizzards, urban sprawl, and the cast of The Jersey Shore. If you'd like, you can move on to the below continuation of my Navy saga. Or you can stay and feel superior to those of us who are flooded, out of power, and still live next to New Jersey. Just don't ask for any sympathy from us the next time you have mudslides, wildfires, Kate Winslet, or Al Qaeda decides it's high time for you to go. You've been warned.
Anyway, I hope everybody did okay with Hurricane Irene. We made out pretty well here at Penwasser Place. Even though we had torrential rain, high winds, and volcano eruptions, our power never went out. On that note, I'd like to thank the neighbors down the street for letting us sacrifice their virgin child (Luckily, their son was into Dungeons and Dragons) to Power God in Sky for sparing us from spoiled food and no flushing toilets. Whew! Unlike Osama Bin Laden, we dodged that bullet.
Frankly, I think hurricanes blow (NOTE: that is the last time I use that hideous hurricane joke. I promise).
|You should have seen my beard|
1980- Asked to leave the USS America for not buttoning my shirt and refusing to shave that cheesy moustache.
April, 1980- I total my car in an ill-advised late night run to North Carolina to drink on the beach
with my shipmates (hmm, you know, now that I write that, it sounds kinda gay). I reenlist for four years for a $12,000 bonus. Yes, the two events are related.
1981- I go on shore duty. Suffering severe emotional distress at having to button my shirt, I marry Mrs. Penwasser I (aka "Bug-Eyed Ugly Woman"). We are married in the Norfolk Botanical Gardens (should never have picked the "Poison Plants of North America" gazebo) and honeymoon in-no kidding-Disney World (I knew she was frikkin' goofy). Let's never speak of this again.
|"Can I stop sucking in my gut now?"|
Oh, yeah, baby, still sportin' the stash.
|NOTE: Not me. Inserted mainly for effect|
April, 1985- Mrs. Penwasser I tells me she "isn't happy" at our 4th anniversary dinner. When I told her she could have had the fish instead, she insists that wasn't what she meant. Bitch didn't get dessert.
June, 1985- I meet who will eventually become Mrs. Penwasser II. In addition to being smokin' hot, she has a cool car. Saw no downside there. To show her I was a sexy "keeper" (and to pay my ever-mounting bills), I take a position as an "Italian Food Transportation Representative." At Dominos.
1986-Divorce Mrs. Penwasser I, marry Mrs. Penwasser II (NOTE: I didn't want to wait. I had a huge load of laundry) (NOTE ADDENDUM: Please excuse the previous sexist comment. I meant to say I was tired of eating cold cuts and Chunky Soup out of the can).
1986- Eerily similar to my "not having any money left" problem from ten years earlier, I reenlist in the Navy. By this time, Mrs. Penwasser II thrilled to have me out of the house.
To be continued...
Next: We finish the 1980s (I'm tired and you're probably sick of reading, anyway), break dance into the 1990s, and I'll tell you where I was on 9/11. Then I retire.