Tuesday, June 17, 2008


I have twenty days left and time seems to have stopped. There are definitely things I will miss. Among them:

Whenever the power goes out, we are all armed to the teeth with all manner of Nerf guns and ammo, from the simplest pistol to The Ivan, which fires three Nerf RPG's at once, effectively pummeling your opponent. As soon as the lights dim and the computer power supplies start chirping, you can hear the pump-action getting primed in every office. My personal weapon's muzzle flashes and it shoots glow-in-the-dark darts. We'll usually have anywhere from five to twenty combatants at any given time. Yesterday, we assaulted the SCIF, and when the Director walked in and caught me screaming Allah ho'Akhbar and decimating the Reports Officer, I told him we were just practicing our emergency procedures.

I'll miss the Nerf gun wars. We've had melees that spread throughout the entire floor, urban warfare from room to room. I suspect I'll never work someplace with Nerf guns again. Although, I can see it in my first job as an attorney, pulling my Nerf pistol out of the drawer and shooting someone right between the eyes with it while they sit there all agog. It may be trouble, though, if I walk from office to office shooting folks whenever the power goes out. Look out, you nancies, put your warface on!!!

We play dodgeball. No kidding, grown-ass men and women, running around a basketball court playing dodgeball. It's also big fun. Seems we all like to pummel each other in several different ways.

We play great jokes on each other. I left a positive pregnancy test (not mine, of course) in the coed bathroom and sat back while the rumors ran rampant throughout the organization. I meant to send out an email claiming responsibility, but somehow just never did. I had great fun complaining of nausea and rubbing my belly.

A stuffed baby dinosaur was kidnapped from Rob's office, because he had Scott's Transformers DVD. Why anyone would WANT a Transformers DVD is beyond me (I watched about five minutes of it and left the room), but he does have kids. At any rate, a photograph of Baby Dino with an Atomic Fireball stuffed in his mouth as a Gimp-like ball gag circulated. Then, a grainy video of a Nerf gun shooting him in the head, complete with very realistic rifle-shot sound effect, and bad guys chanting Allah ho'Akbar. It was fucking GREAT. Problem is, Rob got pissy and complained about it. What a nancy. So Baby Dino was returned sans Atomic Fireball gag.

Today, I was in a briefing with a 2-star General, and the briefer, one of our guys, accidentally refered to Lebanese Hizballah as "Lesbanese." Everyone started laughing, and for some reason, I turned beet red. I don't know why this happens to me--any unexpected emotion, no matter what it is (usually NOT shame, interestingly enough), and I'm purple. I had to really work at not turning red when I have a good poker hand when I first started playing. Fortunately, I've learned to control it at the poker table because I expect it, I've already prepared myself. So then the General looked right at me and said, clearly puzzled, "Good Lord, you're as red as your hair!" Which of course, made it worse and longer-lasting. So everyone's been teasing me about it all day, shouting LESBIAN at me to see if I'll do it again. What the HELL??? Why would "Lesbanese" make a straight girl blush??

Is there some surgical procedure that minimizes the blush response? Because whatever it costs, I will pay it! I read that the whole phenomenon's purpose is to ellicit a sympathy-response from all present. So if I can't learn to control it as a prosecutor, will the jury feel sorry for me if I blush?? Oh crraaapp I hope I never have to find out.