OK, Now You Can Offically Sing 'In The Navy'

So in case you didn't hear, yes, I got accepted into the Navy. I thought I'd let everyone know what this means, in order to answer what I assume are your many questions.

First off, I am actually not in the Navy yet. What I am is 'Professional Accepted.' This means that a bunch of guys many pay grades higher than I will be got together in a room, looked at my application, test scores, and employer references and said, "This guy looks good. Let him in."

There are still a few things I need to do. The first and most important is pass my Physical Readiness Test (PRT). This involves 47 push ups and 58 sit ups in two minutes (not the same two minutes) and a mile and a half run in 12 minutes. I'm not there yet, but getting accepted is a huge motivation booster. I just got back from a 2.75 mile run/jog. I've never run that far before in my life.

Second, for those wondering, no I did not get into Intelligence. I got into Surface Warfare (which I've learned is shortened to SWO, pronounced S-Whoa). However, I didn't get NOT get into Intel. The Intel guys just haven't gotten into that room to look over my application yet. I'm going to give them that time and not jump into SWO immediately.

Finally, many may be wondering where I go from here. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure. I need to talk to my recruiter more. But assuming I pass my PRT, I get into Officer Candidate School (OCS) in Newport, Rhode Island. where I will wear a uniform all the time, cut my hair real short, and be forced to work out every morning at 5AM. Yes, I know, it sounds right up my alley, huh?

I Have A Favor to Ask of You...

Don't let me drink. No really, don't let it happen.

This rule not only applies to the Arcadia Rodeo, but to my body too.

I have my Navy physical on the morning of October 13th. Its not required, but it would be great if I could weigh in at a good weight. Technically, I'm supposed to be 186 pounds, but with my body structure, being 195 would probably be perfect (I keep getting conflicting information, but I think I really need to be down to 22% bodyfat).

I'm working out, I'm eating well (and less), but there is one thing I haven't stopped doing: Drinking. I only do it on the weekend, but that's probably a thousand calories that I don't need to consume.

So please, if I'm out with you, hanging out at your house, at a party with you, make sure I don't drink. If you see a beer in my hand, you can punch me in the balls (yes, Cush, this time its OK for you to punch me there). If you see me doing a shot, slap it out of my hand, maybe pour it in my eyes. One exception: this weekend, Oded has an awesome drinking/tailgating game that should only take one shot. I will make that sacrifice, but only because its for the Gators.

So this:

Drinking of Flaming Doctor Peppers befor the inaugural Drink Marathon? Yeah, that has to stop. Though if I get that thin again, It'll be on once more.

And this:

Drinking till I pass out on my friend's fiance's shoulder after winning National Championships? Can't happen. Don't let it happen. I'm counting on you.

And of course, this:

The taking of shots? Not gonna happen. And getting that fat again? Also not gonna happen.

Hopefully, I'll be able to drink again in moderation after the 13th, but most likely, I won't be drinking till mid-November. I need everyone's help with this, so please, please, don't let me drink. The fate of the world depends on you. And just think: Thats more for you to drink!

I would also like to thank Alice for giving me this advice, who is as smart as she is beautiful. And if anyone knows about the physiological affects of drinking, its her.

The Weekend That Was

This past weekend found me once again in Gainesville. I was there because...well, because I needed to get the hell out of Jacksonville. I don't know if you know this, but Jacksonville blows. I was talking to Rachel this weekend about not moving to Greenville, SC because its a crappy town. My clinching argument: I live in Jacksonville, I know crappy towns.

Jacksonville...God how I loathe thee.

So what did I do while in the great city of Titletown? I drank, I helped paint Amos' and Christina's apartment, but there were a few things that stood out:

1. The fight. I know its sad when I say that I've been going to parties in Gainesville for six years, but its true. And in that entire time, I've seen maybe one fight, and even that, from what I remember, was pretty tame. The fight on Saturday, not so much. From what I gathered, someone spit on one of the hosts, and work was done. I was playing beer pong on the patio when the tussle spilled out into the patio, knocking over the table. I was stuck in the corner, so there was no place for me to go except through the screen. Sorry about that, whoever's house that was.

The parts of the fight I saw where hilarious and intense. Intense because the participants in the fight kept going at it about every 20 seconds. Hilarious because by 'going at it', I mean 'ineffectively slapping at each other faces until they got pulled away from each other.' That actually kinda killed the mood of the party, which was eventually broken up by the cops, who immediately demanded that all the drunk people get the hell out of there. Good job, GPD. Very smart of you.

2. The Search. Cush showed up drunk at Amo's while we were painting and watching Heroes. He needed one thing for his costume for the party that night: a cowbell. And we could not find one. Anywhere. We got to the Western Wear place about 3 minutes after it closed, Cracker Barrel had a very helpful and very cute girl who helped us look around the store, but still nothing. We eventually went to the costume store, where we found a tiny fake one which Cush never actually used. But I do have to say that Center Stage was still a great experience, as they sold us the cowbell 40 minutes after they had closed. Very nice of them.

This is all we wanted. Is that so hard?

3. The Game. I watched a quarter at the PSP watching party, a quarter at Jess's, where my cheering kept scaring her cats, and the last half at the Dojo. Watching games at the Dojo is fun. If we aren't doing well, Cush has to immediately run out and get victory chicken from Publix. This always works. As soon as he gave Publix money, Tony Joiner intercepted a pass. It went well. Also, the shotgunning a beer every time Tebow scores leads to drunkenness. Not on my part, cause I'm horrible at shottgunning, but Cush was really drunk, Michael was feeling and good, and Dave I'm pretty sure was buzzing.

Other features of the weekend was actually motherfucking going out, something I haven't done in a while, with Christina, seeing Erin and getting in on old job drama (apparently everything went to hell when I left) and the best game of volleyball I've played (this does not mean much).

Until next time, I remain,
Matt McKenzie

Still reading Reality Dysfunction by Peter Hamilton.