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The Bang Bang Theories

The Blame Game

I belong in a sunshiny state, Reader. Because I’m just happier. My hair is frizzier, my face is sweatier, but my smile is happier. 

The first leg of the journey has been spent at Patrick Airforce Base, which is mi Papa’s Casa. See how I went all international on you right there, Reader? Because I’m a showoff, that’s why.  

And I’m also a Creepy Old Lady. And I would most definitely be Debra Winger’s sluttier friend from An Officer and a Gentleman if I had grown up near an Airforce base. Because the clean-cut, hard-bodied boys? Make my pants wanna fall down.  I know, I know – wrong. My very own nephew is in the Airforce, so I am well aware of the creepiness level. It’s at Code Orange.  Because I’m old and they’re young and it’s gross. 

But my pants don’t know that, so don’t blame me. 

Blame my pants.

It makes me feel less creepy to lay the blame elsewhere. 

We get all the Airforce privileges while on base, including protection from bad guys as well as eating at the cafeteria-style Riverside Dining hall. You can get your choice of meal for a few cheap bucks, and it’s delicious. I would never ever cook if I had everyday access to that. 

The meal comes with a waterfront view. 

And great company.

So basically, perfect. 
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