Sunday, September 02, 2007

I don't have stories.

I could tell some of my husband's stories, but I'm not sure anyone would believe them. And the funniest story, which involves a dude named Carp and duct tape, we're still under orders not to talk about.

But I have a startling lack of funny military stories, having been the family member rather than service member.

I did, however, once have dinner with Cutter & Monkey, a visit which was much enlivened afterwards by my husband explaining exactly how Stanmeyer got the nickname Monkey (it, er, evolved from "Spank Monkey" and involved the fan room, so let your imagination go wild). Of course, the reason for the evening was a game of D&D, so it never really got too exciting.

I think I'll have to ask him from some stories to post here; that's pretty much my only hope of humor blogging. I could tell a few mommy stories, but I'm never really sure where it crosses from "haha, omigod that's hilarious" to "dear Lord, what is wrong with that woman?"

My husband served on board the USS Oklahoma City & the USS Boise. Four years on each, with a 3-year shore duty in Groton in between. A hundred and fifty men all closed up together in a very small space for sometimes very long stretches of time react pretty much exactly as you'd expect, minus the gay sex.

OK, wait. I do have this one story. Which probably won't even be funny typed out, as verbal inflection is its key. But I have to try:

One snowy winter night in Groton, Rob, Mark (my best friend), & I went to visit Larry, Rob's ex-roommate. Larry lived on town by then, with another fellow whose name I never caught.

Larry is a notorious alcoholic. Goes home, stays home, starts drinking and watching anime, & eventually passes out or falls asleep or something. Sweet guy, but not exactly a role model.

So we're sitting there, and Larry, trying to be a good host, asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I almost never imbibe, so I wracked my brain for something nonalcoholic an alcoholic might reasonably be expected to have in his house. I wound up asking for ice water.

"Ice....water..." He just stood there with this utterly blank look on his face for a minute or two. "Ice...water..." (Remember that episode of the Simpsons where Barney's in the torpedo room and reports flooding as "a clear, nonalcoholic substance"? Larry's even a torpedoman.)

Of course, Larry has always been a great source of one-liners. That same visit, when talking about the cook on board the USS Miami, he said, "He means well. Of course, Hitler meant well. Mussolini meant well."

Larry is also terrified of my children.


Mark said...

My 12 year, soon to be 13 year old Daughter likes your Crochet blog. She says she can't crochet like you, and would like to learn how to make a doll. any tips?


Sabra said...

Mark, I'll try to get a tutorial up within the next few days. :-)