Rated R

If you at all follow this blog, are a friend of mine on Facebook, or actually personally know me, then you are fully aware that I am not a nice person and I don't have a filter on my mouth. I am R rated.

That having been said, tomorrow is yet another round of prepping the barrack for the boys' homecoming. Nothing tremendous--just making beds and putting out towels and bags of toiletries and snacks. Just some little things to make sure that the boys will be able to rest when they get home and not have to make an emergency Wal-mart run as soon as they land stateside. My two teenagers want to go and so the three of us will be there as usual for the boys.

Now why the fuck are we doing this? I don't do it to let everyone know how fucking wonderful I am. And I don't do it to try to make my husband look good. And I sure as fuck don't do it to make the CoC look like it actually gives a flying fuck about anyone but themselves. There is one reason for doing this and my kids feel the same way I do. It's for the boys. Plain and simple. Because they are fucking heroes and we love them. That's all.

So how does tomorrow's activities fit in with that shit about me being rated R? Well, there are always lots of opportunities during deployment to volunteer with the FRG and there are not always so many people who are willing to volunteer their time. Two of my very good friends have been put in for awards for their work over the course of this deployment and I am just ecstatic for them. Seriously. They really deserve to be recognized. I volunteer too. SO am I harboring just the tiniest bit of jealousy that they are getting awards and I am not (at least not that I know of)?? FUCK NO!!!

It just spares me the horror of having to shake hands with some high ranking mother fucker who I hate with a passion and trying very hard not to tell him to take his award and go fuck himself with it.