JSS Muthana

Baghdad has a lot of wall art. I'm not going to call it graffiti because I think it's supposed to be there. And the drawings would be super weird if they were gang affiliated in any way. I saw one today that I was lucky enough to get a picture with!

We were at JSS Muthana (Joint Security Station) taking care of some business this afternoon. US Forces gave over JSS Muthana in May 2009 to the Iraqi Police. We're still there, but they run the show. We're basically just there to correct them when they're wrong and to teach them things they don't understand. And if shit hits the fan, we're there to save their asses. Basically, the US Army has turned into the parents of a troubled teenager.

So the compound is crawling with all sorts of Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police. All of them in a different uniform from different eras. I love it when I see the dudes who wear pointy dress shoes with their combat uniforms instead of boots. I swear, one of these days I'm going to bust out some heels and parade around in full combat load like that. I'd probably break both my ankles, but it would be worth it to show them how ridiculous they look. Women are a rarity out there in Muthana. I got stared down by these dudes like I was Pamela Anderson. Once I started miming the wall art, laughing and cracking jokes, they disappeared. Apparently women are still to be seen and not heard around these parts.

Nothing Happened.

March 7th was Election Day in Iraq. And that's a pretty big deal, I guess. You know, if you're into all the politics about this country and why we're fighting a war here. I know it's ignorant, but I really try to keep my nose out of all that mess and stick to the soldiering. I don't like uneducated hate, however, uneducated indifference suits me well.

According to the news, violence erupted while Iraq voted. Well, I had a front row seat to the whole thing, and let me tell you, it was nothing like the media made it out to be. First off, the death toll is 38. 38 non-Americans. No Soldiers. No contractors. I dare ask, what modern country has ever had a revolution with no blood shed? 38 isn't a bad death toll if you think about the recklessness and disparity of the citizens here.

I got up at 4am to go out on this elections mission. We were anticipating a of violence. Our mission was to go to 2 of the 4 polling sites in Baghdad and check it out. Well, nothing happened. We heard some explosions out in the distance, but nothing close by. No gunfire. No VBIEDs. No IEDs. Hell, not even a dude with his hands in his pockets! We came back to base to grab some lunch chow and headed back out, this time looking for trouble. We cruised around for 3 hours all over the Baghdad area waiting for someone to blow us up or to get into a fire fight with us and nothing happened. I think all the Soldiers were hoping for something big to go off. We were pumped in anticipation to actually do our jobs as military service members. So far this rotation in Iraq has been a big let down in the action department.

So all this violence the media is playing up just seems like a desperate cry to validate the US Army's existence in this war. This war is so over, and it's time for us to pack our things and go... to Afghanistan.

6 Months

I'm pretty much over this stupid country and this stupid war. I'm not even going to call this "war". We're merely occupying at this point. This is basically just one big waste of my 26th year of life. I was looking at pictures from before I deployed and now I'm poopy-faced! I miss having fun, and having time off work. I miss drinking and partying and boys! I want to wear my hair down, fuck this stupid little bun on the back of my head! Very vainly I miss wearing make up and cute outfits. Let's face it, ACUs don't look good on women. I want to feel pretty again.

Today is the 6 month mark of my deployment. Yup, 6 months ago I was standing in the pouring rain in the parking lot of the barracks at Fort Lewis, Washington, kissing my boyfriend goodbye. Totally literally too, because he decided a few weeks later he couldn't "handle" my absence for a year and dumped my ass. Who does that!? The losers I like to date, that's who!

The worst part of this being the 6 month point is that there are still 6 more months to go. I'm only half done with this crap. Sigh. I'm going to continue to look at pictures of me having fun with friends...

Hmm, all the pictures I've chosen to represent me having fun are me while drunk. Hmm... so I'll quit being a Debbie-Downer now and get back to the soldier shit, hooah.

Anthrax!

I'm pretty sure I have contracted anthrax. I got my yearly anthrax booster shot yesterday, and I have a suspicion that it has caused a similar phenomenon in my body that the flu shot usually does: it gave me a mild form of the illness at hand. The flu shot always makes me feel poopy, and the anthrax shot made poop form in my arm.

Look at that thing!

It's obvious that lump is harboring the anthrax virus within it's golf ball sized sphere. It was put there by the US Government just to keep the man down. That's terrorism at it's best, folks. The symptoms I am currently enjoying are:

• A giant lump where the shot was given.
• Soreness, redness and itching where the shot was given.
• Warm skin where the shot was given.
  

And the symptoms I am most likely to enjoy later are:

• Sterility
• Birth defects
• DEATH! (Ahh!)

Of course, the anthrax shot is (generally) safe. Like any medicine, it is capable of causing serious health problems (like the before mentioned death, which I think is the most serious of all health problems), but for the average Joe, nothing is going to happen. This is a mild allergic reaction to the vaccine. I'm the only soldier in my unit to present with any kind of allergic reaction, but that's how I roll. I like to keep people on their toes. So now I'm toting around an EpiPen just in case my anthrax suddenly flares and causes my throat to close up causing the most unpleasant side effect listed: death.

When Nature Calls

I go out on mission for hours at a time. I do not have the luxury of peeing where ever I want like the boys do. There is a lot of careful consideration to be had when I have to pee in sector.

For instance, my vest easily weighs 30 pounds. Try squatting in that, without peeing on the stupid groin protector or your boots, and then standing back up. Without a wall or tree, it can be difficult to hoist yourself back up after a good long piss. If I choose to open 2 Humvee doors like a makeshift stall and pee between them, chances are an Iraqi kid is going to walk over to see what I'm doing. Then you have to contend with the river of urine that somehow always runs towards your feet. I can't pee in a bottle as easily as the boys do when we're on the road. The mouth of the bottle is too small and I have zero accuracy. I have to cut the top of the bottle off and turn it inside out to make a funnel. Then that damn 30 pound vest is in the way again. I can't see what I'm doing and if I miss the bottle then I have to sit in my own pee for the rest of the mission.

I want to put it out there that I will wait until my bladder is about to explode before I decide to pee. Bladder infections have nothing on my will to not deal with my femininity.

A fellow soldier medic offered a solution. It's called the Freshette. It's a little dish with a tube that you put in your pants to catch urine and then filters it through the tube like a tiny plastic and totally convenient 6" retractable penis. It even comes in a plastic zip lock pouch for easy storage. That means this thing is reusable. I'm not so sure I want to carry around something in my pocket that I've been peeing on all day. Nor do I want to face the torment and ridicule I will receive from the MPs once I bust this thing out and pee standing up next to them. Good try, my friend, but I'm going to continue putting my body through unnecessary bladder distress to save from the weirdness of this contraption.

The package has a disclaimer that reads, "Inquire for information on various lengths of tubing available." Hmm, I wonder what you may need a 3 foot retractable fake penis for?

Flying Jellybeans

I hate flies in Iraq. They are giant black jellybeans that sound like they are carrying chainsaws. Do you need a visual? I've got something for that:

These things don't die. We have a bug zapper in our office (delightfully white trashy; it casts a purple hue in our office that makes me feel like I'm at a rave). Some of these giant mutant flies actually get caught in the zapper and get electrocuted several times in a row and the still do not die. They may have lost a foot in the battle for freedom, but they LIVED. The saying goes, "Freedom Isn't Free", and that goes for our insect counterparts as well.

Sometimes I'm too lazy to shake them off because if I shook every time one landed on me I would look like an epileptic or someone with a serious nervous tick. So I watch them a lot. Flies are even more disgusting upon closer investigation. They're always rubbing their filthy little hands together. I think they're plotting against me when they do that. Obviously they are waiting there collecting data on me. These jellybean flies are sent as forward observers on a known suicide mission which brings great honor to them in death. They are skilled and trained in evasion and masters in the art of annoyance.

They all abort their mission once the fly swatter comes off it's hook in the wall. How do they know? Iraq flies are out of control. And they are a 365 pest. No wintertime break from these flying jellybeans.

Beautiful Eyes

I met a little boy with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen while I was in one of the poorest neighborhoods I have ever seen. He was embarrassed when I told him they were beautiful, but I just couldn't help myself! Look for yourself:

It's not too uncommon to run across an Iraqi with blue or green eyes. But it's still startling, and these were by far the prettiest I've seen.

Kids and Poop

The kids are out of control in Iraq. When they set eyes on our convoys they come running from their houses like American kids do for the Ice Cream Truck. If I were the mothers of these children I would sooner faint than let them tear out of the house in hot pursuit of foreigners with guns. Cultural differences.

Children are demanding little devils. They all want something from us. Chocolate and pencils mostly. I don't carry either. They all look at me like, "Well aren't you just a waste of my time", when I tell them I can't meet their demands. Today I improvised with the masses and I gave them a roll of medical tape and a few pairs of exam gloves. I practically started a riot amongst the children. They all wanted the gifts I bestowed upon them. Once the original gifts were carried away, more children took their places and demanded items from me. I carry an aid bag full of treasures, and I'm constantly swatting dirty thieving hands away from its zipper.

Most of the kids are cute for about 2.5 seconds before they just become pests. Grubby hands are always in my face. My hair gets pulled because they don't see "yellow hair" very often. They want me to give them my patches and my sunglasses. They know the English word No, they just play dumb and keep yelling in your face.

SPC Perez and I backed ourselves up into a corner today and were immediately ambushed by a group of about 7 kids. A few of the boys were laughing and pointing at our feet. I ignored them for awhile, but after they shouted, "MISTER MISTER!" few hundred times, I looked down and saw a huge random animal turd next to my boot. I said, "Poop." That drove the children into hysterics and immediately I had "poop" echoing from all their mouths. Leave it to me to introduce that word into their limited English vocabulary.

It goes to show that potty humor is popular with kids in every culture.

Superbowl Sunday

And so passes another Superbowl Sunday. Don't ask me who won. Don't even bother to ask me who played. I had a much more important subject on my mind: BEER.

Deployed Soldiers are not allowed to drink any kind of alcohol while in a combat theatre. Except for Superbowl Sunday, when we stay at work until 1am for kick off and get to crack the first of two long awaited beers.

Beer is a big part of every Superbowl celebration across the United States. As a deployed Soldier, it's even more special. It's magical. It's the one time the Army will pay for you to have beer and carry a gun at the same time. There is a 2 beer maximum (unless you know some folks, if you know what I mean). After being alcohol-free for 5 months, two beers will have you feeling pretty nice!

Beer + Guns + On-the-clock + Me = AWESOME.

Or does that equation equal "redneck"? Either way, cheers to beer!

It's All About Location... But Not In Iraq.

Real estate is jacked up in Iraq. When this:

Can be across the street to this:

The system has serious flaws.

But it's like that everywhere over here. Where the hell are the zoning laws? I bet even the really nice homes are cheaper than dirt. Maybe I'll retire to Iraq someday and be the richest person in the country. Of course, I'll have a shanty on either side of my palace (severely dropping the resale value), but all the garbage that collects on my front yard will surely distract me and future buyers from the adjacent shacks.

Maybe I'll wrap my yard in C-Wire and have a mule chillen out there, too. Why not? Everyone else is doing it.