Accept it, We're better than you

Somebody from California apparently wrote the top part, but somebody from Texas came back and put them on thier asses at the bottom.

CALIFORNIA:

- I can wear sandals all year long

- I go to the Beach - not "down to the shore"

-Our chicks are WAYYYY hotter than yours. Well...Miami can hang.

- I say "like" and "for sure" and "right on" and "dude" and "totally" and "peace out" and "chill" and "tight" and "bro" and I say them often

- I know what real cheese & avocados taste like

-Everyone smokes weed and its no big deal

-We'll roll up 40 deep when something goes down.

-I live next door to Mexicans, but we call them American's!

-All the porn you watch is made here, cause we're better and thats how it is

- I don't get snowdays off because theres only snow in Mammoth, Tahoe, Shasta, and Big Bear

- I know 65 mph really means 100

- When someone cuts me off, they get the horn and the finger and high speed chase cuz we dont fuck around on the road

- The drinking age is 21 but everyone starts at 14 (legally 18 if you live close enough to the border)

- My governor can kick your governors ass

- I can go out at midnight

-You judge people based on what area code they live in, and when asked where you're from, you give your area code

- I might get looked at funny by locals when I'm on vacation in their state, but when they find out I'm from California I turn into a Greek GOD

- We don't stop at stop signs... we do a "california roll"No cop no stop baby!

- I can get fresh and REAL Mexican food 24 hours a day

- All the TV shows you "other" states watch get filmed here

- We're the Golden State. Not the Cheese State. Not the Garden State.....GOLDEN!!!

- We have In-N-Out (Arizona and Vegas are lucky we share that with them)

- I have the most representation in the House of Representatives, which means MY opinion means more than yours, which means I'm better than you [geez.... hahaha]

TEXAS:

Ahem... So.. Um.. yeah... I read this, and thought I would reply...Hey... California listen up... Texas is where its at!-

I too can wear sandals all year long... plus I can put on boots to stomp your toes and I won't even stick out.

- You may be able to go to the "beach" instead of the "shore"... but can you go to the drive thru "Beer Barn?" What now surfer boy?

- You're chicks aren't way hotter than ours... they are almost equal... and thats only due to silicone, saline, botox, lasers and hair dye... We have the real ones and they can beat yours up.

- We're taught to say "Yes Sir" and "Yes Ma'am" and respect our elders because of it. We also say "Howdy" and "fixin" and "Yall" are pretty much recognized right away anywhere in the world :) We're famous

- You may know what real cheese and avocados taste like... but I know what 100% Grade A Angus Beef tastes like. Who wants avocados and cheese when you can have steak and potatoes?

- Haha... who do you think grows the weed and sells it to you?

- Why roll 40 deep when something goes down if 5 corn fed country boys can get the job done...

- I live next door to americans, but we call them mexicans- About your Porn.... 3 words... "Debbie Does Dallas"... You can brag about it now, but we started it- Why would you brag about not getting snow days off?

- We're smart enought to know 65mph means 65, but our speed limit is 70.

- When someone cuts me off, they get run over by my big ass truck, then I give them the finger and tell them to go back to california.

- The drinking age is 21, but if you aren't chasin the beer by 1 yr old... you're behind.

- Yeah, Well my governor became the President of the United States... yours isn't even eligible.

- You can go out at midnight? Thats nice, I haven't even come home by then.

- Ok... you said,"You judge people based on what area code they live in, and when asked where you're from, you give your area code" and as hard as I try I have no idea what you're talking about... I think you're watching too much tv.

- Yeah, you'll definitely get looked funny when you come to visit but we have another name for you pretty boys, and its not greek, its french.

- Of course you don't stop at stop signs... none of you can drive.

- You can pick up Real mexican food 24 hours a day huh... well I can swing by home depot and pick up 24 Real mexicans anytime of day. Can you say catering?

- All the tv shows get filmed there... but where does your favorite poker game from? Texas Hold'em anyone?

- You can keep your golden state... We're the Lone Star State...the one and only!!

- Do I have to remind you about the drive thru Beer Barn again? Does In-N-Out serve alcohol? (Oh and did I mention Dr. Pepper was created in Texas?)

- You guys have the best athletes huh?... Eight words... Lance Armstrong and The University of Texas at AustinThough I could mention MICHAEL JOHNSON - Olympic Sprinter, World record holder in 200m and 400m, 5 Olympic Gold metals, 9 time World Champion (born Dallas, Tx)Oh and remind me agian who won the Rose Bowl between USC and Texas????? I believe it was the LONGHORNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Football is a religion, not a sport

- In Texas, football means football, not soccer.

- 90% of football "movies" you guys are making are about Texas Football.

- Texas is the only state that can still separate to become its own country. The only way California's gonna accomplish that is if another earthquake comes along and you guys sink into the ocean. Can you say Atlantis.... And as the Great Sam Houston once said "Texas could survive without the United States, but the United States could not survive without Texas"

Cody- Koh-dee, (N): Bad ass since 1985

So my apologies for not blogging in a while. Just been working for the most part and fiddle fartin around base. I successfully fixed my car and changed my fuel pump (its in the gas tank) and revived my dead car myself (thanks to Dad). iAll this while it was parked in the parking lot, I couldnt have been prouder of myself. Ive decided to take a train trip this summer before I leave Italy for good, so I am now budgeting and saving for that. WOOT WOOT, oh and I may be getting a new room, so disregard that last blog about my roomie, because I may not have one in 2 weeks. Oh and I get my braces put on Monday morning, little anxious but I know there will be an end to it one day (kinda like the Navy) all good things must come to an end right? Tuesday Im taking the ACT to improve my test score from last time, and so I can send it to the Naval Academy. If I get picked up for the Naval Academy then I will not go to Resp Therapy school, but spend the next 4 years going to school full time. Thats pretty much my life in a Nutshell, nothing too exciting. Oh they opened an Applebees on base, but no one speaks English so its kinda hard to order and they always get your order wrong. So thats about it, thats an update on me, nothing too exciting, just working and going to the gym. We have a Dress Blue inspection coming up, thats where we line up and the Commadning Officer walks through the ranks inspecting our uniforms, like she knows what to look for. Anyways, it takes hours and Im not one to enjoy standing in the sun in a wool zuit suit, I just hope I dont pass out.

My Roomie

Within my year and a half of being stationed here I have gone through 3 roommates, each having there own special thing to offer. My second roommate (we shall call him, I dunno... how about Sean R.) was the most interesting of the 3. He got kicked out for cocaine use, and I would often come home to him bumping nasties with some fat Italian chick (he had a bad habit of leaving his door open), putting me into a state of extreme nausea and burning horrible images into the back of my skull that would later reappear in a nightmare.

My current roommate is the most mellow of the three and is nearly a decade older than myself. He has been with the Marines and has been to Iraq not once, but twice! He is from Montanna and has several missing teeth, even though his hygeine habits are immaculate (40 minutes showers are a little much though). His room is almost sterile and its contents are nothing more than Navy issued linen and a framed picture on the desk of his dog in the back of a truck that his sister gave him. He sits alone in his room quietly everyday reading western books and war books. He listens to the radio (for the weather) only in the morning while he is getting ready (which is 5am ,7 days a week). Ive never seen any visitors, he gets mail on the holidays, and he doesnt even own a phone, nor a computer. He wears the same outfit almost everyday that is composed of; Jeans, Sneakers, White Tee Shirt thats tucked in, brown web belt, and an faded orange hat. He is a sad sad sad little man, and I have tried to get him to hang out with me with no prevail.

I however, am his yang, I am loud and listen to music 24/7. I have guests and visitors all the time and people often crash on my floor. Showers are hit and miss with me, I can only guarantee that I shower on days that I work or go to the gym. My room has so much clutter in it, almost like a garage sale from hell, and the clutter comes from ebay, which keeps my mail flowing at a glacial pace as it slowly trickles in. If Im not working, you wont know when Ill awake from my slumber, nor will you know when I will fall asleep. I believe dishes should be done when you need to use that certain dish, and its home is in the sink until then (thats why we have paper plates, another mutual agreement between us). My clothing varies greatly from day to day, and isnt limited by season, I am a firm believer that flip flops may be worn year round. The differences between us are many.

Now lets talk about the similarities, like you really even care. We have been roommates for 8 months now, and like two lesbian women living together and menstrating at the same time, we have developed something of the same sort. Our bladders have the same clock, and it never fails, that when I REALLY have to go pee, hes in there peeing. Whenever I am hungry and want to use our microwave/stove, low and behold its already in use, BY HIM. When I want to brush my teeth to go to bed, hes doing his 30 minute floss job. When I need to take a shower and go to work (ON THE WEEKEND, his off time) hes in there at the buttcrack of dawn taking a 40 minute shower, we are constantly stepping on each others toes in this tight space. I hate it when I have to make a B.M. and hes already in there doing it, its just ridiculous.

In the 8 months he has known me, he has said maybe 20 sentences to me. I wonder, is it me, or is it him. He's real quiet, and Im afraid he will go postal one day starting with me (post traumatic stress) and then go to work like nothing happened. I've spent alot of time with my grandparents, and I know how they are set in their ways and are creatures of habit, but this guy would put them to shame. Hes a real nice guy, just a little creepy, thats all Im saying!

Within the last week my 1980 something tool shed of a car decided to breathe its potential last breathes. I say potential last breathes because it is now relying on me to fix it and my handyman skills are questionable at best. My father however, could correctly fix anything on Earth that has a moving part to it, and I have always relied on him, and assisted him in fixing cars. Since he is an ocean away, I find myself being guided over the phone on how to revive my dead land yact, and things look glim from my standpoint. I am though impressed on how well my father knows me, and sort of scared on how he is telling me to fix my car. First off, he had me pop a spark plug wire off and "jam a screwdriver into it" while "having a friend try to start the car". My father knows me well because he said " hold onto the handle and not the metal part of the screwdriver" and he told me to look for flying sparks, which there were. Next my father told me to "bang on the gas tank as my friend tries to start the car", I guess thats Texas engineering or something. My father (knowing me) told me not to use a hammer to bang, for this would put holes into the gas tank. Yes indeed it would, and this would have occured to me as an afterthought, to me "hammer=banging" when it comes to fixing things, simple logic really. Lastly, (and most scary) my father instructed me to buy a can of choke carb cleaner (an extremely flammable canned chemical) and pop off my fuel rail (like I knew where/what that was) and spray it directly into the engine while my buddy sits "safely" in the car and tries to start it while I spray. While I bought teh carb cleaner, I picked up canned spray paint and repainted the flaking rust spots on the hood. Which until today were being held down with tape to keep them from coming off. I have my doubts that my car will ever run again, but its fun taking it apart right now and playing detective so we shall see.