day two of misery

i miss my shuttlecocks. i miss the smell of fresh dusty rubber. the feel of sharp white plastic poking my palms. the look of an old one-legged ex-talib smashing an overhand into a young northern alliance soldier's chest. the line and dive of a well played shot. but enough. i shant speak of them again.

i'm moving on.

although no advice regarding my future was volleyed my way (other than n-ko talking about frogs), i have decided to step up and spend the remainder of my life unemployed. i will wander about capult until allah directs me to the heavens or another superpower directs me to hell.

actually i might just go to some more ex-pat parties and make fun of all the boring people i meet. the half-court squire is visiting his other half and the most verbose Taj has been quietly reloading. half the other peeps i've met here in the past month have already rolled, i don't blame them. poppystan seems to have a higher turnover than a dan snyder operation. it's because it basically sucks shuttlecock here.

it's international women's day. i'm going to celebrate.