It’s occurred to me that I have not described my roommate (Mr. Gigglepiss) with enough detail. The guy reminds me of Uncle Fester from the Addam’s Family. He’s chubby, he shaves his head bald, and he, too, has dark circles under his eyes from late night partying and drinking (though, in Uncle Fester’s defense, I don’t think he did much drinking or partying).

His most annoying quality is his inability to hear anything at normal human levels. Whenever I come back to the room, the television is always playing so loudly that I can hear it two doors down the hall (with the door shut, mind you). Naturally, because he is so hard of hearing, he talks and giggles loudly to compensate.

Perhaps his second-most annoying trait is what he watches on television. Gigglepiss only watches racing and VH1. We’ve already discussed how boring the game of racing is, so I won’t go into that again. VH1 is almost as boring to watch as cars turning left because they only seem to play one type of program: those that deal with “behind the music” of heavy metal and rock and roll bands. This wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t seem like they always featured the same band over and over. Is it too much to ask that they feature Rod Stewart or Perpetual Ocean once in a while?

On a different note, I’ve discovered these fruit bars at a store here on base that are quite delicious. They’re made by a company called Sunbelt and they’re “Fruit and Grain Bars”. The strawberry is delicious and quite popular here on base because the store is often sold out of them. They’re also really cheap which is the primary reason why I buy them.

These little babies come in a box of 8 for $1.79. Throw in a couple bottles of Lipton Sweet Tea for $2.32 and you’ve got yourself a nice little snack.

Because Mr. Gigglepiss is deaf, I can’t make phone calls inside the room because I can never hear anyone over the TV. I went out to the hallway to call my dad. About 20 minutes into the conversation, Gigglepiss left the room, giggled something to me as he passed, then skipped merrily down the hallway to the elevators like a giddy schoolgirl.

Once I finished talking to my dad, I found myself quite thirsty and a little hungry. Thirsty for tea and hungry for a fruit bar. As I picked up my fruit bar box, I couldn’t help but notice that it felt lighter than it should have been. I thought that was odd, so I dumped the contents out on my bed and counted them. There were six bars. The bastard had stolen two of my tasty my fruit bars!

I’m debating what to do for revenge, but I’m afraid anything I’d do would violate the Navy’s “no hazing” policy. I thought about pissing in an emtpy beer bottle (fill it to the top), cap it, and leave it in the fridge on Friday morning when I leave San Diego. And of course, Mr. Gigglepiss would get thirsty…

Most of the people who read the Fish are creative (if not evil), so if you have your own suggestion it’s welcome. After all, what kind of a world would we live in if our fruit bars were stolen and we sat idly by and did nothing to stop it?

I’ve been using public transportation here in San Diego because gas is $3.50/gallon. Fuck that. I got a two week transportation pass that gives me unlimited rides on the trolley and buses. The trolley goes just about everywhere I’ve wanted to, so it’s been a worthwhile investment.

Unfortunately, with public transportation comes the public. The trolley is almost always crowded and seats are limited. Whenever I get a seat all to myself, some freak inevitably sits next to me and starts to tell me their life’s story, their latest problem, or how the voices in their head are telling them to do things they’d wish they wouldn’t have to.

I don’t know what it is, but apparently I give off this vibe that I care about people when, in reality, I don’t give a damn. At least not while I’m riding the trolley to the Apple Store or the movie theater. That doesn’t stop the finest that San Diego has to offer from sitting next to me, though.

Yesterday, a rather large Puerto Rican man sat next to me. He wore a wife beater shirt, shorts, and smelled strongly of alcohol. I wasn’t able to get my noise-canceling headphones out of my backpack quick enough, so he started chatting with me. First, Rico started with the US relations with Iran and from there he made the leap to solar power. I don’t even remember how he made the transition. At one point he asked me what I did for a living and so I told him.

“I operate nuclear reactors for the Navy. I’m around them all the time and they leak radiation into my skin and now I glow in the dark. I should probably warn you that you’re getting radiation from me just by sitting so close and you’ll probably get cancer and die soon.”

He got off at the very next stop with a moritified and crazy look in his eyes.

Today was more reminiscent of South Carolina. A crazy woman who appeared to be in her early to mid thirties was riding the trolley with an older man. The woman had on a very stained shirt, filthy jeans, and no shoes whatsoever. Her skin was covered in oil and dirt.

The man she rode with looked to be in his sixties. He wore a white shirt that was stained with the same enigmatic mysteries as his snot-colored beard. A brand new starter for the woman’s car lay next to his feet.

“That’s the las’ tahm I let a ma’an drahv muh car, I suh-wear ta gawd!” the woman exclaimed. The man chuckled loudly, spoke some mysterious language that I could not decipher, and nodded. He quickly scooped up the starter and the two set out to fix their car.

I can’t wait to see what comes along next.

With the release of the new Apple MacBook, I’m pleased to announce the shift back to Mac here at the Fish. O glorious OS X, how I’ve missed you… I’ve acquired the new black MacBook for my portable Fishing needs and I’m very pleased with it so far. It’s been a long time since I’ve used a Mac for my daily computing fix but it’s like riding a bike. And it’s such a nice ride, too.

In other news, Mr. Gigglepiss continues to be a tard. The science experiment continues, and he’s in for a long, sober weekend. He’s currently $101 in the negative in his bank account, and we don’t get paid until June 1st. And it’s not like he’s got friends or anything, so it’s going to be quite a booze-free weekend for him because no one will buy him any alcohol. I haven’t had a drop since I’ve been here, but I’m thinking that this will be the perfect opportunity to purchase just one bottle of beer from the bowling alley and drink it in his presence. I’ll drink it nice and slooooooowwww and be sure to tell him how delicious it is with each sip. Mmmmm, beeeeer…

I’ve discovered the ability to bluetooth images from my phone to a Mac at the Apple Store. I know you guys have been craving some images lately, so here are a couple to whet your appetite.

Proof that U.S. Marines do exist on the base here in San Diego.

I saw this plant on base the first day I got here. This is where toilet brushes come from. They’re grown here in California.

Yet another adventurous week with the roommate. Our room is set up so that we share the bathroom with the room next to us. Therefore, there are two doors going into the bathroom and a problem could arise if someone were to enter, lock both doors, and then forget to unlock the door to his neighbor’s room. Get it? Good.

Well, as a matter of fact this did indeed happen. The dude next to us locked us out of our bathroom. The same thing happened a million times back in Charleston when I still had a roommate and a shared shitter, and it’s normally an easy fix. (Depending on the doorknob design, all you need is a coathanger to push a pin or a small coin to turn a slot.)

Unless, that is, you’re a diesel mechanic. Not only is my roommate completely deaf (he admitted he doesn’t wear earplugs whilst working on/near the diesel engines) he’s also mentally retarded, exremely loud when he talks, and he’s got this giggling thing he does when he laughs that would make even Barney the purple dinosaur go “WTF?”.

Anyhoo, the bathroom was locked but I wasn’t in the room at the time. I had been out exploring San Diego again and, once I returned, I was informed by my roommate that the door was locked from the inside. I could see the short circuiting of his brain when he told me this. He had this helpless look about him, like a dog that had shit on the carpet because no one was home to let him out.

Turns out I wasn’t far from the truth. He had filled two 16 ounce bottles full of piss because he couldn’t figure out how to open the door. Our door has the slot for the coin, but had he tried it? No. Had he gone to see if the guy was home next door, so that maybe he could open the door for him? Nope, not this guy. He decided to squirt into my Snapple bottle instead.

It’s no secret that I am always polite and pleasant towards others¹, so I gently knocked on the bathroom door from our side, loud enough so that our bathroommate could hear. The guy happened to be home, so it worked and he apologized for locking it. No big deal, it was a harmless mistake.

Because of his annoying giggling and new talent for filling up containers with urine, I’ve decided to no longer refer to my roommate as simply “my roommate”. I’m sick of typing it and it lacks creative flare. Thereforce, he shall be known as “Mr. Gigglepiss” henceforth.

Some people in this world should just have been a blowjob.

¹I hit the door loud enough so that the entire building could hear it. But I did it with the best intentions of being polite and pleasant…

My roommate here on base is a diesel mechanic. This essentially translates to “he’s stupid”. I’ve taken it upon myself to treat the next couple weeks as an experiment with this guy. We have virtually nothing in common, and we tend to disagree about everything. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a bad person or anything, he’s just a moron.

Hes obsessed with wrestling and car racing (Both Indy Car and NASCAR). Large, sweaty men in tight spandex pants hugging each other in front of hundred of onlookers does not excite me in the least. But my pudgy friend can’t get enough of the stuff.

In an attempt to ensue rage and get my flabby pal all worked up for my entertainment, I always argue the point that neither wrestling nor car racing is a sport. It’s nothing more than bad acting and driving. Althought I could technically wear spandex panties and fondle dudes on TV, there are more pressing matters I’ve got to attend to first. (Rest assured, however, that once I do go pro-wrestler the press release will be seen here on the Fish first.)

Nascar and Indy car racing are just games, not sports. You can drive, I can drive, my grandmother can drive (not fast, but she can do it). There’s nothing athletic about driving and no one will ever convince me otherwise. You’re sitting and turning left for a couple hours at really high speeds. Booooooooooooring.

Perhaps if the two sports could be combined in some fashion. Rednecks all over the globe would, no doubt, rejoice. I, for one, would still never watch.

There is a computer room here on base that has Dell computers with Celeron processors in them.  Personally, I’ve never trusted a computer chip that sounded like an inedible green vegetable, but that’s just me.  The whole room is full of computers and I think they all share the same 56K dial up connection.¹

To make matters worse, my maid service was late this morning and I have no guarantee that my bed was made up fresh for this evening’s slumber or that I have fresh towels waiting for me.  I tell ya, between these slow computers, slow Internet, and unnacceptable maid services, I feel like I’m in the Marines or something.

It’s too bad that these Dell computers don’t have bluetooth.  I’ve been taking small snapshots with my camera phone for your enjoyment.  I’ve got at least three entries waiting for posting but I have to add pictures first.  I’ll see if I can’t make my way back to the Apple Store for some built in bluetooth action.  Or, send me $3000 so I can buy a new 17″ MacBook Pro.  I’ll even design a special banner for you and I’ll guarantee you that I will place it on my site for one full year in your honor.  Order now, operators are standing by.

¹Joey, I really hope my site doesn’t load as slow for you as it does for me.

Well the “big mystery” as to why the Navy sent me to San Diego is over.  Apparently, I’ve been chosen to learn about wireless walkie-talkie radio doohickies.  And here I thought it would be something technical.

According to my instructor, 90% of your job will be checking out these radios to people and keeping track of their location.  The other 10% will be troubleshooting and repair of the radios.  (For those of you in the back of the room with the retarded look on your faces, that’s 100% radios.  Hey, mechanics, I’m talking to you.)

This is interesting news since the government has spent thousands of dollars and the past year-and-a-half teaching me nuclear power.  Eh, who needs a reactor when you can have radios?  Unless these radios are nuclear powered or something?  Or, maybe this nuclear power thing is a big conspiracy and the ships are really radio controlled!  I think I’ve stumbled onto to something big here…

And speaking of military intelligence…  I was assigned to a room that has two beds in it.  I discovered that I had two roommates.  One of my room mates was an E-1, some Airman Electrician Recruit.  I was tired and it was 11 o’clock at night, so I decided to put off changing rooms until the morning.  Before I went to bed, I informed my roommate that, in the event of roomy #3 returning, he wasn’t about to get my bed.  If #3 woke me up, I would only send him over to cuddle with the recruit.

It took three hours of paperwork, military stupidity, and civilian laziness before my room move was complete.  I’ve moved out of the shitty basement apartment-like room into a hotel-type of room with a maid service and cable television.  I get a nicer barracks because I’m only here temporarily.  My friend, who is stationed here in San Diego, has to stay in the shitty room.  Ha!

It only gets better, too.  My work schedule is nowhere near as drastic as nuke school.  A lot shorter hours, no duty, and no watchstanding.  If I could get the Navy to throw in a naked Keira Knightley to serve me alcoholic beverages, I think I’d spend the rest of my time in the Navy here.

Found the Apple Store and their free Internet access. I know all of you miss me and your lives are incomplete without updates to the Fish, but I’m doing the best I can. I start work Monday morning so updates may be scattered and sparse.

Gas is $3.50/gal in San Diego, so you’ll be pleased to know that I am doing a lot of walking! I need to find a hardware store that sells hoses and buckets. I think there’s a fourtune to be made by siphoning other folks’ gas tanks.

One more thing before I fly to California this afternoon:

Quite possibly the coolest urinal in all of South Carolina. I haven’t had time to visit the web site to see how a toilet operates without water or cartridges. Speculations welcome. See you in California.