jennings rampage

“Jeff’s weblog”: The Collector’s Edition

Fully half of the searches on this site are for my brother’s brilliant weblog that was prematurely ended by the uncreative-types in the United States Navy. So here, I present to you all five original entries of my favorite blog of all time, uncut and unedited. Revel in the existential ennui of service to our country, and send my little brother some cookies or something.

A day in the life… My first entry

In an attempt to be unlike my older brother… I’m doing one of these online journal things. I’m not sure what I’ll write about, it’s not like I can post what I’m doing or where I am on the internet. I’m sure I’ll find something to bitch er… write about.

Today was pretty uneventful. I had the mid-watch last night (watch meaning watching the TV waiting for something to happen), so I was allowed to sleep in until the late hour of 10. Since everyone leaves the shop at 11 for lunch, I didn’t bother showing up until 1. Of course, nobody noticed. I think I pretty much have figured out what I can and can’t get away with. Not every day is as slow as today was. After I showed up at 1 (1300 for you military types), I just had to clean this little part of a p-way (hall). After that, I was free to do as I pleased. I did my best to hide so I wouldn’t get tasked with anything else. With my drummer on the beach (he’s a marine and I can’t say which country)… the little band I have onboard is on hold. Plus my Chief moved his desk next to where I play. It used to be my little refuge, now I’m the first person he sees when shit hits the fan. It’s nice to feel trusted, but it sucks ass to be the “go to” guy. Every time there is a problem, it seems to get dropped into my lap. If you didn’t know, I’m an electronics technician in the Navy. When electronics break onboard, it’s a big deal. Sometimes, I have to deal with all the highest officers onboard. They pretty much all know me; I can tell because they know my name when I’m not in uniform. That’s pretty much a big pain in the ass. I have to give presentations to the Captain every week about the systems I work on. I pretty much fucked myself into doing that when I said I wouldn’t write the presentations for someone else to give. Could I say “pretty much” again? I think most everyone on the boat knows me. I got “sailor of the day” twice. Sailor of the day is this bullshit thing the Captain announces every night. One crewmember is awarded this honor for the outstanding job they did. I got it for some pretty worthwhile shit. Some days are pretty uneventful. They really have to stretch to find someone to nominate. My Senior Chief has found a way to solve this. He nominates total idiots as a joke. It’s awesome. He nominated the bitch that runs all the garbage through the pulper a few weeks back. She quite possibly has the shittest job on the ship, and shows it in her piss poor attitude. He nominated her and had the Captain say how pleasant her attitude is and how great of a job she does. I about shat myself when he said it. I don’t think he has any idea either way. Speaking of, the Captain is talking on the 1MC (ship’s announcing system) right now. I can hardly wait for who it is today. This is great: Today this Mexican guy named Sanchez got it for cleaning fish guts out of a condenser. Today’s stinky Mexican is…ha. I’ll be sure to let you all know who the sailor of the day is every day. Well, of course, something just came up right before I was going to bed. Until next time

Posted by Jeff at May 22, 2003 06:54 PM

Slapped on the wrist

Today was a little more eventful than yesterday. That thing that came up last night kept me up past midnight. This was pretty cool because I had to get up at three for watch. Once again watch meaning I’m awake for no reason, watching TV.

Needless to say, I was pretty tired come 0700. I asked if I could go hit the rack, as I did figure out the problem with the system that shall remain nameless. I had also completed all my work for the week. My boss’s solution to my lack of sleep and work: “Go clean for a few hours!” I think I might just be the only rational person on this entire ship. I had a few things to say about being a hard worker and how much bull shit it is to be given busy work when I only had three fucking hours of sleep. As you might have figured, that went over about as well as a lap dance in church. I was told I could hit my rack at 1000 and be back at 1300.(I would have been able to nap from 1100 to 1300 anyway!!) I woke up to a notoriously amiable First Class shining a flashlight in my face around 1430, telling to get the fuck out of my rack. (I bet Scott could tell me the name of the First Class…I’ll give you a hint… he thinks there should be a tax on baseball…don’t get me started) Apparently someone tried to wake me up at 1305, from what they say, I wanted no part of that. I was given four minutes to report six decks up for an ass chewing. It’s always great to get an impromptu ass chewing. If I were in charge, I wouldn’t have a problem giving one. Not everyone is’nt quite so quick witted. I, of course, had a response for everything possible gripe before I ever set foot in the room. Needless to say, I was quickly given a “counseling sheet”. The Navy has moved away from its old form of counseling: Beating the living shit out of you in a fan room. The new method calls for your supervisor to type out a form with what you did wrong, and you sign it. This is the second time since I’ve been onboard that I’ve had the pleasure of receiving this honor. I must say, I like the new method much better. I doubt my boss could kick my ass… she is about 5’ nothing, 100 pounds. Now I have this nice paper that says I was a bad boy. That’s it. I’ll tell you folks; the military is fucking hard core.

That’s about all that happened today. I sure hope the Iraqi people aren’t less free because I slept a bit today. I’m still pretty much better than everyone. The sailor of the day wasn’t very funny today, too bad. Some guy fixed a helicopter. It only took like 2 months.

I’ll leave you with a little description of what the sailor of the day gets. The sailor of the day is entiltled to sit in the XO’s chair on the bridge. He or she gets a picture of the ship, a comissioning coin, and a special treat(don’t ask)from the captain. They also get head of the line privledge in the chow line, ship’s store, and the barber shop. What a frickin honor.

Oh yeah… My friend Lindsay wanted me to mention her in this thing. She likes some NASCAR driver (a true sign of breeding) and wanted me to root for him or something. I really don’t remember his name, and don’t feel like opening the email. So, Lindsay, there you go. GO MATT SOMETHING!!!!

Posted by Jeff at May 24, 2003 01:07 AM

This is a long one

Today, I had a spot check with the ship’s 3M coordinator (3MC, not to be confused with MC Hammer). I bet you are wondering what 3M is. It stands for maintenance and material management. It’s just the Navy’s system for preventative maintenance (PMS, love those military acronyms).

I hope you all feel informed. The 3MC’s main purpose is to make sure all the divisions onboard actually do the maintenance they are responsible for. One of the ways he does this is through a spot check. It’s pretty much you doing your job while a bunch of people watch you. Of course, you are not allowed to do your job the way you normally would. Instead you have to read the PMS card, step by step, and only do the step you have just read. You are also quizzed on random bullshit while your doing it. They ask you questions, you answer, and then they try to make you think that you are wrong. If you retract your correct answer, you fail. I, of course, did perfectly. I did the spot check on a system that I went to five months of school for. There was really no way he could ask me a question I couldn’t answer. I feel bad because this girl in my shop failed a spot check last week on a lantern. I did perfectly on a several million-dollar system. (Equal pay for equal what?) It just goes to show just how awesome I am.

Tonight I learned how to play “The Ocean” by Led Zeppelin. Some of the guys that break the stuff I fix came up to listen and chill. The First Classes sponsored a chicken wings, ice cream, and karaoke deal on the mess decks tonight. I had this to say: “I bet there is a line down there… I haven’t stood in one of those in a few hours.” I went down, claimed my free soda, and quickly left. Galley food three times a day is quite enough for me. Also, I’m not a big fan of most of the people in the Navy. You really have to wonder what kind of sober people would volunteer for something like this, especially some of the really shitty jobs. I have a nice cushy job. I get paid to retain knowledge. I still affirm that I was pretty stoned when I signed up.

We haven’t had a real mail call in a few weeks. I hope that’s why I’m not getting all of the wonderful stuff that I’m sure you are all sending. (Did I mention that I haven’t received a single fucking care package?) I need to mail home the stuff I got in Crete and Malta. Malta was a fucking blast. I got pretty wasted there. I don’t like that their money is worth 3 times ours. Unlike Scott, I’m not a big fan of math. They have this stuff in Crete called Ouzo. It’s a lot like Sambuka. I got pretty drunk in Crete. We all had to be back to the pier at like 2100. I broke out my then two-piece band, drums and guitar. After that, I’ve been like a frickin rock star. I haven’t paid for a drink around people from the boat since. Those are the only two ports I’ve been to in this two and a half month trip. I have a feeling it will be a long time until I see another. I did get a chance to take in the culture in these places. I now know why the whole world hates us. They mostly see our military out on liberty. They think this is how people act in America. A lot of folks in the military are stupid, amplified by being out to sea for 50 something days (in most cases a fifth of Jack too); I’d hate us too.

Tomorrow is what the Captain lovingly calls a MOMSA (morning of minimum scheduled activity). It’s amazing what you can think up when you are out to sea all the time. It means that I get to sleep in until like 11. Sleep is on my list of top five favorite activities.

There is this officer on our boat that really has a thing for enlisted girls. He also hangs out with some of the guys in my shop, probably to get to the girls they know. The two girls that are in my shop got into a marker fight with him today. Let me explain the concept of a marker fight. Ok, so each team, usually guys vs. girls, get markers, and try to mark each other up. They felt that they won because he was marked up pretty bad. I had to explain to them that he won because his objective was to cop a few feels, which he definitely did. It’s a shame that they make more money than I do. It’s a lot of fun to rain on their parade.

The USS Iwo Jima Sailor of the day for 24 May 2003 is: A girl that works in medical. Yes, Scott, There is a sailor of the day all seven days of the week. Our intelligence shows that Osama Bin Laden has a Terrorist of the Day, every day. We in the Navy cannot afford to have a Sailor of the Day gap! (Thanks Stanley Kubrick!) The girl in medical…wait for it…. did her fucking job. Yes, she gave people physicals and entered them into their fucking records. A true American hero, and credit to the naval service. With uncommon valor, she personally squeezed the balls of the guys who work on the flight deck, while they turned their heads and coughed. Determined to tickle every last prostate, she single handedly had her single hand up 400 guys assess today. I salute you, Hospitalman Nameless Girl, United States Navy.

Until next time

Posted by Jeff at May 25, 2003 01:18 AM

Slowpoke

I slept most of the day… gotta love that MOMSA. I watched a few movies, and played my guitar. It’s kinda like I was at home. No, it’s really not. Sunday is usually pretty slow.

There’s really not much more to tell. I watched most of those movies while I was on watch. I stand watch with this really slow Mexican dude. I call him Slowpoke Rodriguez, like the mouse on those Speedy Gonzalez cartoons. He is really, really, stupid. I have no idea how he ever became an ET. He just like stares blankly at nothing and then tells you who looks like who. He does this constantly. He speaks at the speed of molasses. I really think I’d be doing the world a favor if I killed him. He tried to tell me that there is no “I” in my last name and it should be pronounced “jenngs”. I slapped him.

Our friend “Slowpoke” is a radar tech. I bet that makes you all feel very safe. A few weeks back, this guy in our shop called him to let him know that a helicopter was stuck in his radar. Being several kinds of radars onboard, he asked for no elaboration. He knew what he had to do. He quickly alerted the Combat Systems Officer of the Watch of the situation. The CSOOW had this to say: “What in the hell are you telling me for, boy? Go get it out of there.” Like a bolt of lightning, ET3 Slowpoke ran out to evaluate the situation. At no point was he curious why nobody knew about this. He, of course, discovered that all of the helicopters were either on the flight deck, or buzzing around the sky. Can we make this guy the sailor of the fucking day, or what?

I have this pleasure of being forced to be in the same room with this guy for 4 hours a day. I have revoked his talking privileges.

The sailor of the day is: A cook! Yeah, the guy who cooked the frozen, preseasoned, chicken wings last night is the sailor of the day. Take that Bin Laden. I can only hope to one day be that talented.

Posted by Jeff at May 26, 2003 12:14 AM

This one has pictures! (a picture)

Today was, again, pretty uneventful. I made some damn good coffee. Another day of watch with Slowpoke. Another day of being reminded just how much smarter than everyone I really am.

I helped troubleshoot this power supply after our neat little battle stations drill this morning. Battle stations AKA general quarters (G.Q.) is like our “oh shit, we are about to die” kinda thing. They really should have abbreviated it B.S. I really hate drills. But, Back to the power supply. Yeah so I figured out that is was this capacitor that was causing the problem. I broke out the Huntron Tracker and did some hard core ET shit. I’m sure you are all very confused by what I just said. It boils down to this: I am king shit of fuck mountain.

I really did my best to do nothing the rest of the day. I cleaned my little part of the P-way and went off to dinner. Dinner wasn’t that bad tonight. We had pot roast and potatoes. I’m easy to please.

Those two pesky girls were at it again. They decided to get into the marker fight with some guys in the shop today, again. It quickly escalated to a Vaseline and foot powder fight (thanks operation shoebox). Will these two never learn? One of them paid me $5 to walk her back to the berthing. She hid behind me the whole way so nobody could see how messed up she got. Easy money.

My buddy who works on the flight deck came up to play guitar tonight. He is really amazing at blues. He can really only play blues, but man, can he play some fucking blues. He is just as amazed with the rock and jazz stuff I come up with. He compliments my ego well.

Some guy in deck department got Sailor of the Day for blowing a whistle and talking on the announcing system. Need I say more? Well, yeah. I bet Osama never gave anyone a fucking award for blowing a fucking whistle. I doubt they are as bored as we are.

Posted by Jeff at May 27, 2003 01:12 AM