So I was on Mars...

So I was working on my cogitator the other day. I opened the holy slot so that I could insert the dataslate-- and behold, the interior of the feed tray was defiled! Reciting prayers to the Omnissiah, I checked for further flaws, and finding none, I submitted a request for a new dataslate port. Chanting the Canticle of Swiftness, I waited. Within two solar cycles it had arrived!

I, being a humble adept, feared that my inexperience would further injure the machine-spirit. It was with that in mind that I approached my local Tech-Magos. Together, we lit the incense and chanted prayers of supplication to the cogitator's machine-spirit. Speaking the Litany of Unbinding, we performed the Rite of Removal-- taking the corrupted port from the innards of the cogitator. We chanted the Litany of Inclusion as we inserted the new dataslate port into the machine.



We ran holy diagnostics, fulfilling every step of the the proper ritual to ensure proper placement and connection. I whispered prayers to the machine-spirit and the Omnissiah for correct operation, as the cogitator rebooted.

It performed flawlessly! The Magos and I offered our praise to the Machine God that my cogitator could be brought back to perfection!

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My computer broke and I took it to Geek Squad to fix it.

Miss home. Miss people there. Wish I could fix stuff, to make things better. I don't think I was in the wrong-- I reacted to the information I had been given-- but I'd rather have things fixed than be right.

Updating?

I guess I might try blogging it all out this time around. It would give me something to do, and lemme vent-- cuz, folks, these kids is retarded.

You know, the hilarious thing about the Army? You kinda forget how idiotic it is until you are in the belly of the beast again. For example:

Today, May, Cantrell, and I left the Armory on a mission after lunch to take Cantrell to the doctor's office for his appointment. We ran to Best Buy to see if Geek Squad could help me with my broke optical drive: more about that later.

Anyways, we make it back to the hotel with Cantrell, who is appropriately drugged to the gills. We depart to our respective rooms and I, after some unpacking, prepare to take a shower. The time was now 3:15 pm. Naked, and practically in the shower, I get a phone call from May: we are required to go back to the Armory, for the day was not over yet.

We get back to the Armory at 3:45. They let us go home at 4:15.

Logic: the Army has never heard of it.