Tons of F'n Sequins!!

This is exactly what I needed today.



I love how flustered he gets after he realizes that he swore on National TV.  This man is better than a sexy lady leprechaun hiding in your pants whose only job is to hide your morning wood at meetings.

Deployments Suck

One of the worst parts about being in the military are the deployments.  And the getting shot at.  And keeping your hair short.  And getting yelled at for everything.  And the complete lack of logic.  And the PT sessions that in no way get you in shape.  And all the fat people that nearly die from the four pushups in the PT sessions.  And the hurry up and wait.  And the food.  And living in tents in the desert.  And the sheer stupidity of...


OK, I'll just leave it at this: being in the military is worse than cancer.  Not like leukemia or bone cancer or anything bad, but like cancer of the grundle.  It's really inconvenient, and might just kill you if you let it go long enough.  But most of all, it's just a major pain in the ass.


In an unending quest to make me test the ability of issued 9mm hollow points on my grey matter, I have been in charge of getting my squadron ready for the deployment.  One of my many bosses (You think seven is a lot?  Try having anyone with half a brain and higher rank than you being able to tell you what to do) asked me what was supposed to go in his A-bag.  Now, I'll freely admit that I'm an idiot and probably one of the worst officers in the military, but even I know what the fuck goes in my goddamned A-bag.  It's common knowledge.  Also, there are plenty of documents with the answer to that question readily available.  But seeing as how I only had forty other fucking things to do at that exact moment, my boss made me send out an e-mail to the whole squadron with the required items for our A-bags.


Context:  Our squadron is the lions and our patch looks like this:

Which I think looks a lot like this:

From: Cullen
Sent: Friday, October 15, 2010 4:13 PM
To: 16th AS Distribution List
Subject: Your confusion leaves me disillusioned/

Keep it up and you'll get a contusion/
I mean you're cruisin' for a bruisin'/
Now I don't mean to step/
But ya'll are making me a wreck/
You'll fight cuz I don't look strong/
But you got it all wrong/
Though my genetics are pathetic/
My rhymes are sublime/
My energy's frenetic/
Now let's crush this mobility line

Sorry, Food Lions, I passed out there for a moment.

There has been some confusion about what to take in your A-bag.  Here is
the approved list:

Gas Mask
Web Belt
Canteen
Canteen Cup and Cover
Flashlight
Kevlar Helmet
Mess Kit
First Aid Kit
Sleeping bag

These items must be in your A-bag for the deployment or else you are a
D-Bag (the D stands for dirt).  If you have any questions or concerns,
stop by Readiness as soon as possible.

V/R,
Capt Cullen Gallagher
Assistant to the Readiness Flt/CC
Wing Keepin' It Real Officer




Unfortunately, my boss loved it.  He said he read it to his wife and she thought I had real potential as a "rap guy."  Also he needed me to go pick up a first aid kit for him since he didn't have one.  On the plus side, everyone has pretty much agreed that I really am the Wing Keepin' It Real Officer.  I'm trying to get that put on my performance report.


Later, this same guy requested that I make a packing list for the squadron.  Because it's not like every person in our squadron goes to the Middle East for two weeks of every month already.  Oh, wait.  I took this job slightly more seriously, as 120 would be printed out and handed to everyone in the squadron.  It would also have the addresses of all the locations so family members could write their deployed husbands/wives/children, etc.  I imagined this would probably hang on every squadron member's fridge for the duration of the deployment.  So here's what I made:

Yup.  A big picture of my face.  Also, somewhere in the packing list I put "jammy-jams."  The very serious military people sort of didn't notice because they were so busy getting lost in those baby blues.

On the plus side, my friend Nate e-mailed a picture of his kitchen with the caption, "Aw, crap."

I guess in his deployment absence, his children have begun to think that the guy in the flight suit on the fridge is their dad.  It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of that.

Avoiding Work

Here are a few more things I created in my never-ending effort to avoid work.




One of the things I hate about working on the desk is finding people to fill in for random "mandatory fun" or community service that our bosses volunteered us for.  The pilots and loadmasters in my squadron were far too busy, ya know, saving the world and shit.  Okay, the pilots were busy saving the world and the loads were busy sleeping in the cargo compartment.  But still... busy.  Furthermore, we get about twenty worthless e-mails a day, so it's kind of hard to keep people from auto-deleting them.  To combat this, I blatantly lie in all my subject lines.


Context: I once convinced a co-worker that I blew out my knee while in the Middle East and she got the squadron commander to send out a replacement for me despite the fact that I was just kidding.  Also my squadron at the time had a mascot called Tunner.  Don't even bother looking it up.


From: Cullen
Sent: Monday, August 07, 2006 1:02 PM
To: 4 AS ALL
Subject: My friends Jessica Simpson and Brad Pitt want to meet you.

4th AS Tunnerites,

Let me open by apologizing for my clever ruse.  That subject line is not
entirely accurate.  It should have read, "Jessica Simpson wants to marry
me and Brad Pitt envies my abs."  I'm sorry, I know how jokes in e-mails
can be misconstrued (*ouch! my knee*).  Now that I've captured your
attention like an injured little bird that I later intend to release
back into the wild, I want to let you know of a great opportunity to
help the 4th Booster Club.  We are looking for workers at Safeco Field
Wednesday, 9 August at oh-ten-hundred.  This is our best chance to earn
money for the squadron since that casino I was running in the heritage
room got shut down by "the man."  I guess the gaming commission doesn't
believe that the Choctaw reservation extends into our bar.  Whatevs.
Anyway, please get at me via e-mail, or just stop at the desk if you
want to sell some beer and partake of some free food while the Mariners
crush their competition.  Okay, while the Mariners attempt to keep pace
with their competition.  Okay, if nothing else, you can marvel at how
tall Richie Sexson is.

Lt Cullen
Squadron Ab Model




The followup:


From: Cullen
Sent: Tuesday, August 08, 2006 12:10 PM
To: 4 AS ALL
Subject: Safeco Tomorrow

Fightin' Fourth-

I am still looking for volunteers to work Safeco tomorrow morning at
1000.  I have been informed that the show will be at 0930.  To let you
know how serious I am about getting volunteers, let me remind you that I
am the owner of three things that may be of interest to you: a tow
truck, the current schedule, and a recall roster with everyone's address
on it.  Alone those three things mean nothing, but together they mean I
can stalk from house to house of all you available non-volunteers, and
steal your cars to create my own car-henge in my backyard.  Then when
you return to get your car I will charge you admission like everyone
else.

SO LET'S GET SOME VOLUNTEERS TO HELP OUR SQUADRON!

Or are you not patriotic?

Lt Cullen
Squadron Masseuse

p.s.  They play the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, so the Mariners will probably
even win for you.

Crank E-mails

I hate when I'm forced to work back in the office.  I'm a pilot, I fly planes, not desks.  But occasionally it affords the opportunity to write some crank e-mails for one reason or another.  Here are some:




This is my way of telling people I have a new phone number


From: Cullen
Sent: Thu 3/23/2006 2:19 AM
To: xxxx
Subject: I just won the lottery and I need your help!

Actually that subject line is not true.  I just changed my phone number and I wanted to get your attention.  I'm sorry for the clever ruse, but if you're getting this e-mail then you're probably used to me deceiving you.  So my new number is:

xxx-xxx-xxxx

So go ahead, grab that pencil out of your flight suit or pocket protector (nerds) and write that down.  If it were me I would just say, "ahh, I'll just wait until he calls me," but I am a jerk.  Also, because I'm a jerk I will not call you, so it is completely up to you.  Lastly, I just threw this together real quick, and I know that I forgot a ton of people.  So next time you see one of our mutual friends, open it up with, "hey-did you hear?  Cullen's got a new number!"  It's a great ice breaker.  In fact, use it on girls.  Then when they answer 'no' give them my number.  After that they'll probably ask 'who's Cullen?' 'why are you talking to me?' 'where are my friends?' and 'why does that rag smell like chloroform?'  Just ignore them at that point.  Alright, gotta run kids.  Take it slow.

Cullen

p.s.  Please don't give this number to Lindsay Lohan or Jessica Simpson-they're pretty much the reason I'm changing it, they just won't leave me alone.




As pilots, I occasionally have to schedule people for the simulator.  No one ever wants to do it, so I'm always scrambling to find people.  Just as a quick note, I know how GD old that song is, note the timestamp.  I'm quite topical.  Here is my attempt at easing the pain:


From: Cullen
Sent: Wed 5/27/2007 10:12AM
To: 4 AS Pilots
Subject: Fresh Mims, err... I mean Sims


Wow my Sims are hot

Wow my Sims are hot

Wow my Sims

Wow my Sims

Wow my Sims are hot

They’re hot cuz you fly

Phase Sim or Air Drop

Wow my Sims

Wow my Sims

Wow my Sims are hot

We have a bunch of open Sims next week, enough to choke a donkey.  My associate, Mr. Turner (he requests, nay, demands that you call him that) has been diligently running around asking for volunteers.  Unfortunately there haven’t been many takers.  I don’t want to have to start ram-jamming people into these things (as the ram-jamming is normally Hansen’s Dad’s job), but I will if I have to.  I can be pretty ruthless, just ask my friend Randall about the time he tried to take on my warlock with his troll.  That troll didn’t even have any magic powers let alone the 75 hit points with the +10 spell modifier that my warlock possessed!  Randall was just about devastated.  Well, he would have been if he wasn’t a stuffed bear.  I find my beanie baby collection to be far superior to actual friends.  Anyways, long story short, get in these Sims.  They’re a great opportunity to practice your craft.  And if you want to practice your WarCraft, then just let me know.  I’ll be the guy sitting home alone amongst 350 stuffed collectibles playing Guitar Hero 2 and crying myself to sleep.  Call me ladies!

V/R,

Lt Cullen
Sign Up For These Sims!!!!!

This is me drumming up support for our intramural basketball team.  The only thing you need to know is that when I was calling John Hansen Big 'Mo, it was in reference to the fact that his nickname is actually Big Gay.  But this was went out to my whole squadron so I had to hide that fact somewhat.

From: Cullen
Sent: Thursday, January 10, 2008 11:36 AM
To: 4 AS ALL
Subject: Will Smith Is Now A Scientologist (and a Basketball Update)

True Story.  Look it up on the interweb when you get home.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/01/09/will-smith-scientologist_n_8062
2.html

In honor of this momentous occasion, I have written a little rap.

Now, this is a story all about how
My religion got flipped-turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became thetan in a cult of despair

On Earth (also Teegeeack) born and raised
By the volcanoes was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
Readin' Dianetics I ain't no fool.
When a Galactic Commander
Who was up to no good
Startin makin' trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one lil explosion and my mom turned blue
She said 'You're movin' with Tom and Katie to worship Xenu.'

Now on to business.  The basketball season is about to begin, and after
long and grueling tryouts, we have the final roster for our team.  Good
news, if you're receiving this e-mail, you are on the team.  Bad news,
I'm the coach.  As such, I request that you all stop referring to me as
Capt Gallagher, and now refer to me as Coach.  As coach, my first act is
to send my Ass. Coach, Jeff Sharp, down to finance to adjust my pay to
match the average NBA coach's salary: $2.35 million.  Considering what a
stellar coach I am, giving me the average should be considered a
fantastic deal.

I expect a good showing this year as we don't have Larry Hughes, but we
do have a lot of great energy coming off the bench.  Jon Hansen trucks
down the court so fast I've taken to calling him "Big Momentum."
Actually, that's a little too long so I've shortened it to "Big 'Mo."
Well, that doesn't roll off the tongue too well either.  If someone
could think of something smoother that gets across the point that Hansen
is a "Big 'Mo" I'd appreciate it.

Our game schedule is available at http://www.62services.com/fitness_intramurals.html.  As you can see, our
first games are on Tuesday and Thursday evening next week.  I'm trying
to get the Seattle Supersonics Dancers to cheer for us at these games.
Unfortunately I could only secure the Lakewood Dance Team, and they
don't even really dance.  They more convulse from all the toxic fumes in
their home meth labs.

V/R,
Coach

Pictures

 Cat Scan

Cookie Moster Warlord 

Cool Dog vs. Cool Cat

Edgar Allan Bro

My Friend Kyle

Mathletics

So there's this thing called CrossFit.  It's a workout thingy that I do.  I'm not entirely proud of it, mostly because it is a thinly-veiled cult, but it is a good way to stay in shape.  And the Kool-aid is fantastic.


Anyway, this gym regularly profiles its members on the website.  As such, I was given the opportunity the answer some questions on what I like about CrossFit.  This is what happened:


http://www.crossfitintegrity.com/sunday-july-4-2010-athlete-profile-cullen-gallagher/

Yes, that is a picture of me.  Yes, I am pale and awkward looking.  No, those weights aren't fake.  It's only 135lbs, keep your panties on.

Hey Emma Stone, Sorry I Was So Awkward

Hey Emma Stone, sorry I was so awkward.

My stupid hair and I were sitting, minding our own business, waiting for a meeting at Imagine Entertainment on the afternoon of Friday, November 20th. I was quite nervous, as this was my first "Hollywood" meeting. Furthermore, I was in the offices of the guys behind "Arrested Development" which is probably my favorite thing ever made by anybody. Well, except boobies, but even though it only ran for three seasons, I've seen far more AD than boobies. Somebody's baking frownies :( :( :(

Anyway, I was playing with my iPhone when I heard someone check in for an appointment. I thought, "Wow, that girl sounds like Emma Stone." I realized a scant twenty seconds later that the one place that a girl who sounded like Emma Stone may in fact be Emma Stone is the reception area of a Hollywood production company. I pulled myself away from Cartoon Wars just in time to hear you--the real Emma Stone--chatting with your friend about chicken and waffles. So that's when the awkwardness began.

"I love chicken and waffles!" I blurted out. Wow. That was fucking retarded. My voice was at least three octaves higher than normal, probably the result of me trading my balls for that flop sweat pouring from my forehead. We had a quick discussion about the guy who invented chicken and waffles (seriously, I have plenty other more interesting things I could have talked about--Star Wars, Magic: The Gathering, my retainer, fantasy football--however I chose to discuss your lunch), which culminated in this exchange:

Emma - "It's so weird loving someone you don't even know."

Me - "I've got a little bit of that going on right now..."

OK, now I realize that this may have sounded stalker-ish, but honestly, I thought that was funny. You didn't really laugh though and I don't blame you. It's about as bad as me saying, "It's also weird that I cry in the shower." Yeah, it's true, but it doesn't make it appropriate.

You, to your credit, were very nice to me. I assume it was because I was meeting with a production company and I was neither immediately recognizable nor attractive enough to be an actor, so you must have assumed that I was a producer of some sort. Unfortunately I shattered that illusion rather quickly. You asked what I did and I mentioned that I was a pilot in the Air Force. Again, you seemed really interested and instead of playing it up (because honestly, how cool is it to be a goddamned pilot?), I responded with Debbie Downer shit about how much I hated the military. Later when you told me that the new city I was moving to was your favorite city ever, I just whined about how I missed Seattle. Seriously, I don't know what the hell I was thinking. Looking back, I even think that you were giving me an open to invite you out next time you were in town, but I totally missed that. So, um, awesome. Even after that, you kept talking to me and asked what I was doing at Imagine. I said I was, "working on a story or something." Then I was going to ask what you were doing, but halfway through the question I stopped myself and said, "never mind, I shouldn't ask about gossip." I know that was weird, but I figured you might think that I would ask too much about a project you were working on and then go back and write it on some website or talk to TMZ about it. I won't, don't worry. Unless you count this, in which case that was very clairvoyant of you. Anyway, the moral of that whole thing was that the worst part of over-thinking something is that it looks like you aren't thinking at all.

At this point, I feel pretty bored typing this, so I can’t imagine (Imagine—get it?—teehee lol!) how bored you are reading this. Watch this adorable video and please begine making associations with me:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnd we’re back!

Really, though, where this thing went careening off the rails was when I started talking to your friend. I noticed that you and I were excluding her a bit, and since I was failing so miserably at flirting, I figured that I would include her (yes, that was flirting. I know...). I'm very inclusive; I've always said that about myself. Well, stupidly I did not introduce myself. I know we had been speaking for over fifteen minutes and introductions would be customary, but I was more concerned with the fact that I had sweat through my shirt which, to be honest, already looked and smelled like a homeless guy's grundle. Also, I knew who you were, and I figured you knew that I knew who you were, and I knew you knew I knew who you were, so I skipped you and asked your friend:

Me - "And what was your name?"

Her - *mumbles something incoherent*

Me - "Shuh?"

Her - No, Sug. Like Suge Knight. Short for Sugar."

OK, at this point I think I should mention that Sug seems like a cool enough name, but pardon me for not getting it on the first try. She seemed peeved. In retrospect, she was quite peevish. It was like she was Princess Leia and I was Han in Ep. 4. See, I told you I was cool. Anyway, at this point I felt the need to make an unfortunate joke about Suge Knight. It was a reference to this an incident in which he was shot in the leg at a party. I got it slightly confused with the time he got in a fight at the Vibe Awards. Despite the fact that my joke was topical humor from four years ago, I decided to say anyway, "Sug, huh? So did you also get shot at the Vibe Awards?" Um, so neither you nor Sug had any idea what I was talking about (Google it!), and you replied, "Wait—what? You want her to get shot in the leg?"

No, no, no no noooooooo, no. That was not what I meant. I was about to explain that when that lady came over to ask you what you wanted to drink. At that point I decided it was best to not talk for awhile, and you and Sug whispered secrets and giggled, most likely about me. So that went well. After that I went back to looking at my phone and working on my werewolf drawings. I texted five people to let them know I was talking to you. My friend Kyle wanted me to tell you, "It's SUPERBAD that you're making me as stiff as one of the zombies in ZOMBIELAND." I told him I would say that to you, but I never did. Does it count now? I would have said it because, honestly, how much worse could it have been? But instead, I sat sweating under that heat lamp I chose to place myself under. Also, I never saw Zombieland and I didn't want you to figure that out. As penance, may I present two pictures of Zombie Cats:

So you're probably wondering why I came on here to write all this. Well, I have a proposal. I want to prove that I'm not as awkward as I came off. I don't want to date or anything, you're much too young and you always wear your hair over that one eye, so I'm convinced that there must be something wrong with it (see attached photos).

Instead I want to meet under similar circumstances and take another stab at small talk. We can meet alone (no offense to Sug, but I really feel like she was the reason things went to poorly. She's a game-killer) on a neutral site to talk. I figure if you need to go to another production meeting somewhere or even if you need to go the ophthalmologist to get that wonkey eye checked out, I could just meet you in the reception area and we could take another shot at the small talk (should I have used the word 'shot'? I know what sort of flashbacks that must bring for Sug). I believe this to be the most equitable recourse to our situation. If you are unable, maybe you could talk to Michael Cera for me. He's an actor I'm sure you know, and I was thinking he could help me film a re-creation. I know Jonah Hill was your love interest in Superbad, but I feel Michael Cera would bring the right level of awkwardness to the role of me. You would be played by Isla Fisher. She's another redhead, but she's actually much higher on my list. Can you imagine awkward I would have been had you been her?

So Emma, if it is you please contact me (lanceuppercutt@gmail.com) with the name of the city I am moving to. You should probably remember since you said it was totally your favorite city ever. Let me know if you want to meet at some neutral reception site so I can have a second shot or if you just want to get me Michael Cera's contact information. Also, if you have any contact information for the following people, it would be much appreciated: Kate Beckinsale, Jessica Biel, Megan Fox, Angelina Jolie, Isla Fisher, twenty other hot Hollywood starlets, and lastly you. OK, well I think this has been productive. Thanks for indulging one guy's awkward attempt to become less awkward. Remember, you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. Funny thing about my back, it's on my cock. Haha, see that's from Superbad. Do actors ever quote movies they were in? No? OK. But you should. It's a very funny movie. Well, good talk.