Bearded Boy works for an organization that is represented as a three letter acronym (hint: begins with “Department” ends with “No, really, we know what we’re doing”), and is going overseas to Jihad County (which is much less entertaining than Brisco County, though Bruce Campbell may or may not be there) next week.
He’ll be gone for six months, back for one, and then out for another six; which, if you’re mathematically inclined, means that I have several solid months of straight-up infidelity coming my way. Sure, I’ll miss the guy, but when the opportunity to have sex with strangers and still be provided for comes ’round knockin’, you’d be crazy if you didn’t want him screaming down the tarmac immediately.
Further more, if he dies over there I get even more money. I’m not saying I’m hoping for a traumatic incident to take place or anything, I’m just saying, if he cares, the least the guy can do is lose a limb or something. There’s a catch, though: he can’t lose too many limbs, and the penis must remain in fine working condition at all times. I’ll be completely honest, if he comes back and doesn’t have any legs, or has an IQ score that’s less than the cost of a Double Down, I’m leaving his paraplegic ass.
Anyway, my apologies for the lack of snark and brutal honesty in this post, but I just wanted to let him know that I am going to miss him like Shaq misses free throws (which is a fucking lot), but mostly needed an easy topic to end the week with.
So, be safe out there, don’t forget that you’re not just another government pawn (and that you are so much better than this, really), make good choices, double-bag it, and don’t get pregnant.