Here's your fucking updates, you textmongering fiends.
My dad seems to have accepted the fact that I'm going. Which is a huge boost to something. Probably mood. I dont know. He wants me to bring everything home in writing, as he's trying to ensure that I don't get fucked over. But doesn't everyone? I'm sure I will to a degree, but that's the price you pay. It was also his idea to invite him over for dinner. I laughed at this one, and Barlow says I should, because its always fun to make recruiters sweat.
And while I'm on that subject, apparently I am no longer Sergeant First Class Clegg's bitch, I am now SFC (if I messd up the abbreviation, blow me. Same rank as the dude before) Hanback's bitch. Ok, sure, whatever works. Hanback bought food, so I suppose he deserves the commission or whatever for suckering me into this shit. =)
Final score for my ASVAB came in, and yes, I rocked it, so I get bonuses. Yay. Probably not tax free. So now all that remains to be done is lock my job in place and go to MEPS, where some guy will touch my scrotum. This sounds good so far. (Oh, and I'm not writing abbreviations out if I dont feel like it. Open another window with google, U can't touch this.)
At the moment, I am sore as all hell from pushups, situps, and running. And I have more memorization of possibly usefull information to do. Might as well shoot for Private First Class. Mo' money, mo (fill in the blank). My god, I look good when I'm on the floor covered in my own sweat, struggling for air, writhing around like Gollum. This is a good career choice for meeting women, I can already tell. I'll look exactly like all the other recruits, so competition won't be as fierce and.....wait. Surrounded by only guys for.... 9 weeks. Hmm. K, scratch the romantic endeavors. If only Barlow would re-enlist. RAR!
I think I'm done posting. The gay jokes might get out of hand. Love me.