Big Red

30 January 2004 (570 Days of Madness Left)

Care Level: 12 out of 100 Mood: Giddy Chief’s Mood: Pissed/Indecipherable

8:47 in the morning and I am standing roving watch. I am forced to “take” portable air samples due to Laaaaary and Chaaaaarlie setting things ablaze in condensate bay. Due to a sheer twist of fate, it is engineering day off, yet I stand duty. This is the thanks they pay to me for staying on the boat 69 out of 85 hours in port critical steaming to fix the fuck-job that Laaaaary and Chaaaaarlie screwed up to begin with. Admiral Bowman sends his regards for putting up a good act for the CT officials, showing them everything that we don’t do, and don’t know aboard this big black turd. When the shit hits the fan, rest assured, we (as well as the greater Groton/New London area) are going down in a blaze of nuclear glory. They will decommission all nuclear vessels and I, MM2(SS) Big Red, will be out of a job. Hmm… On second thought… I need a steel-faced mallet, Excalibur, and the willpower to accept my exposure for the things I am about to do. Amen.

(UPDATE – 9:24AM) Laaaaary and Chaaaaarlie got the [APD] another byte code, forcing me, the SRW, to even more PAS’s. Fuck them. And their cat. The SEO refuses to take his PPU logs. I refuse to take my logs. It’s a vicious cycle. Perez and Sena checked off of leave. I figure my time on board will be generously shortened if I close my eyes, turn on the grinder, and let what happens, happen. I could spray my blood all across the M-Div muster bench, ruining our precious binders, and causing a traumatic scene that will mentally scar the rest of the M-Div’ers. What the hell am I talking about? All the M-Div’ers are mentally scared already. Who else could take the punishment that “The Man” puts us though?

Nobody.

That’s right. Nobody.

(UPDATE – 10:22AM) My balls itch. Stir craziness sets in. All work and no beer make rover go crazy… All work and no beer make rover go crazy… All work and no beer make rover go crazy…

(UPDATE – 10:32AM) As the good roving watch that I am, I send [ET3] up forward to fill our coffee can, because honestly, that’s all [ET3] is good for. The engineroom will cease to function without coffee. The MS’s have no purpose in their life. They know it too, so they’ve bred themselves. They must add importance to their trivial lives by ruling their mess decks with an iron fist, and secure it one hour prior to, and one hour after meal times, to assist in their laborious tasks of … and … and then they…

ok, you can’t bullshit that one. They have no purpose, except for one. To be the butt of the Submariner’s Hate Circle. If you don’t know what this is, ask Schwashbucklin’ Petey. He’ll be glad to fill you in on it. So now I’m stuck in the engineroom with no coffee, and a severe hatred towards all coners. Fuck them.

(UPDATE – 10:20PM) Darwin Award for today: MM2(SS) Big Red learns the value of the tagout system when tearing down [a valve]. Upon removing all but the stem, Big Red braces himself and pulls out with all his might against the stem. A distinctive “pop” is heard, and approximately 5 gallons of seawater spray him in the face. He pushes the stem back into place, and then drains the system in accordance with step one of the procedure. Laughs were had by all, and no khaki’s were the wiser. The rest of the maintenance was completed with no incident. In fact, no incident took place. Forget you just read this. Fuck-o.