Write to live, live to write.
AIRBORNE ALL THE WAY Monday, June 16, 2008
Yes, yesterday was my brother's birthday.
And as a treat he got presents!
Three 1/8 scale model soldiers; one German Volksgrenadier, one typical British Private and one U.S. Private.
I suppose the German Volksgrenadier sounds much more interesting than the other two, huh?
Well, to telly ou the truth, the Volksgrenadier gave me a right bloody headache when I tried to fix him up.
Not a very good way to welcome me home, you know.
His belt was just too tough to fix. Everything was made exactly like the real thing, so it was really hard to adjust the belt and all. For the G.I., I had to undo the strings on his tiny little leggings and when I realised it was too hard to put 'em on I had to redo his strings. Talk about fustrating.
Then after an hour and a half or so I finally gave up and stormed down to eat my breakfast and read the papers.
Boy, did I miss the papers.
Anyway. My dad was pretty amused at my moody silence and said that "everything doesn't have to be perfect, y'know, I'm sure its pretty easy. All it needs is time and patience" sort of crap.
Well, when he tried fifteen minutes later he wasn't practicing what he preached.
I had to bite my lip a couple of times from giving him the "I told you so" treatment.
Well, we raged and shouted and furiously struggled with the persistent, too bloody realistic equipment for both the German and the G.I., Jason the little birthday boy told us, "Actually its quite ok. All I need is the guy and his gun."
Bloody hell. Telling us that a lot earlier might've helped.
Talk about a spoilt, ungrateful little brat.
Ah well. Its his birthday, I guess. But he had this funny little idiosyncracy. Whenever my dad said "Happy birthday J," he'd reply "Happy birthday Dad" before he could think.
Strange thing is it never happened to me or my mom.
Speaking of idiosyncracies, tell me if this one is strange. When Jason's sitting on a leather seat he must sit away from a window. Like in an airplane, say the seats were leather. He cannot sit next to the window and made my mom change seats with him in the ferry just for that.
Strange. But then again, to each his own, so I guess I can't really complain.
I mean, you're talking to the person who is so rigid in her routine that she has to read the papers in a specific order.
And as a treat he got presents!
Three 1/8 scale model soldiers; one German Volksgrenadier, one typical British Private and one U.S. Private.
I suppose the German Volksgrenadier sounds much more interesting than the other two, huh?
Well, to telly ou the truth, the Volksgrenadier gave me a right bloody headache when I tried to fix him up.
Not a very good way to welcome me home, you know.
His belt was just too tough to fix. Everything was made exactly like the real thing, so it was really hard to adjust the belt and all. For the G.I., I had to undo the strings on his tiny little leggings and when I realised it was too hard to put 'em on I had to redo his strings. Talk about fustrating.
Then after an hour and a half or so I finally gave up and stormed down to eat my breakfast and read the papers.
Boy, did I miss the papers.
Anyway. My dad was pretty amused at my moody silence and said that "everything doesn't have to be perfect, y'know, I'm sure its pretty easy. All it needs is time and patience" sort of crap.
Well, when he tried fifteen minutes later he wasn't practicing what he preached.
I had to bite my lip a couple of times from giving him the "I told you so" treatment.
Well, we raged and shouted and furiously struggled with the persistent, too bloody realistic equipment for both the German and the G.I., Jason the little birthday boy told us, "Actually its quite ok. All I need is the guy and his gun."
Bloody hell. Telling us that a lot earlier might've helped.
Talk about a spoilt, ungrateful little brat.
Ah well. Its his birthday, I guess. But he had this funny little idiosyncracy. Whenever my dad said "Happy birthday J," he'd reply "Happy birthday Dad" before he could think.
Strange thing is it never happened to me or my mom.
Speaking of idiosyncracies, tell me if this one is strange. When Jason's sitting on a leather seat he must sit away from a window. Like in an airplane, say the seats were leather. He cannot sit next to the window and made my mom change seats with him in the ferry just for that.
Strange. But then again, to each his own, so I guess I can't really complain.
I mean, you're talking to the person who is so rigid in her routine that she has to read the papers in a specific order.
>>Forgotten by00:16
