Friday, May 06, 2005
5:22 AM
PROFESSIONAL douchebag Strikes in Iraq
The TOTALLY FINISHED story of Rachel, Parts I, II & III

It's a little blurry but here we are again. This affords a great full view of Rachael in all her glory.

There she was, hidden behind the counter in the MWR - morale, wellness and recreation - center. Standing maybe 5'2, her looks were second to none. Long blonde hair, a gorgeous smile, luscious lips, fair skin - she was something out of a catalog from heaven. Then when she walked out from behind the counter and her tiny frame came into full view, one could not help but tremble just a little bit. I don't care which sex you are, you'd shiver and shake a little bit at the sight of Rachel.

To say she didn't know what she possessed would be like Michael Jordan not knowing he was pretty good. He had the trophies and Rachel had a shelf on which the trophies could rest nicely. For lack of a better, more tasteful phrase, she had a set of breasts that would stop the Pope's funeral. They protruded from her body in an almost abnormal fashion, her being so small and them being ... so not small. Her beauty alone was ravishing, but sticking a set of man-mesmorizers on her completed the whole package.

We were told about her en route to our sleeping quarters.

"It's southern Iraq," I thought to myself, "how hot can this chick be?"

And that made it ever more odd. Here are soldiers who can't drink alcohol, can't have sex, can't look at porn, and they have to see Rachel daily when using the computer, the phone or just to watch a movie or read a magazine. Her presence alone had to do wonders for their morale and wellness.

I didn't talk much with her the first day, just a hello and good-bye. Our show the first night at Camp Adder was outside, just across the way from the MWR. I figured maybe she'd be at the show, especially since they'd arranged it. But she wasn't. It went well nonetheless as hundreds of soldiers gathered in front of the stage. The crowd increased more and more as the show went on. Some troops stood way in the back while others sat on their bikes with a machine gun strapped across their body, wearing black Amry shorts and a gray Army t-shirt. I scanned the large gathering for Rachel, but she was no where to be found.

The next morning I hit the MWR to check email and use the phone. I don't know who I was calling nor did I really care - I was just there to see her. And there she was again, standing behind the counter. All the soldiers around her smiled from ear to ear for Rachel was as good as it would get for a long time. I'd bet some of them made excuses to come visit the MWR just to get another look. I would, especially if I had to share a room with a guy whose nap attire resembled that of Donald Duck.

Rachel and I talked briefly. She shared that she was from Louisiana and her southern drawl made her even sexier. She could've been from Oregon, Oklahoma or Ohio and it wouldn't have mattered. But there's something about a southern gal.

She was busy signing people in to use the computers and phones. I didn't want to bother her but knew I needed a picture of her.

"I can't believe this chick's in Iraq," I kept thinking to myself. I tried not to stare but it became nearly impossible. She'd smile and grab the microphone to call the soldiers' names. I envisioned the microphone being my firm ... handshake, as our bodies touched for the first time.

Rachel quickly removed herself from behind the counter and took time for a picture. A soldier was happy to help out and snapped a few shots of us standing just inside the main entrance in front of the MWR sign. I thanked him and Rachel. I then talked to her a little while longer, even asking for her email address.

"I'll send you a picture if you want."
"Sure, please do," she said. And immediately I began to melt. The power of the poonanni.

During the walk back to my trailer, I almost tripped a dozen times, staring at the pictures. The sun was hot and bright, which made the looking that much more difficult. But it was worth it, although I'd hate to break an ankle or get hit by a Humvee because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.

"Scott, I heard you went to Iraq and got injured gawking at some chick. Way to make America proud, douchebag!"

Once back in my room, I uploaded the pictures to my laptop. Tom Foss and I shared a room and I showed him the picture as if it was a gold nugget I found in the river. We then boarded a bus to go see a temple, an ancient city and the birthplace of the prophet Abraham. While on the bus I shared Rachel with the rest of the crew, somewhat bragging that I had something they didn't. My camera was passed around like a bong at a frat party. And it gave a similar high, too.

When we returned from the tour, I hit the MWR again. Earlier in the day the computers didn't work, so I figured I'd check back. And I could gawk once again.

As I signed in, Rachel told me she wanted to talk to me.

"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing bad at all. Just come by before you leave here."

I tried to write and send emails but I was overcome with wonder. "What on earth could she want to talk about? Maybe she was offended by something I said? Maybe her boyfriend saw us take the pictures earlier? Maybe she told her boss I harrassed her and I need to pay her off?"

After my hour had passed I headed out. Rachel was seated at the end of the row of computers about 5 down from me. I tapped her on the shoulder and said bye.

"Hey, gimme a sec, k?" she said. I would've given her a month.

A few minutes later she came out from the computer room and met me in the main room.

"So what's up?" I asked her.

"What are you doing later?"

"Well we're leaving in a little bit for another base. We have to take a convoy and ride in Hummers. Our show is at like 7 tonight. Why?

"Well I thought you might want to hang out later." At this point I was virtually speechless. Yes, me - speechless. I immediately downplayed it in my head, pinching my arm to assure it wasn't a dream.

"We'll get back around 9:30 or 10 I imagine. Is that too late?"

"How about 10:30?"

"That works for me. Do you want me to bring the other guys?"

"Nope, just you. I figure we could hang out at my place where all the MWR people stay. I'll give you directions."

"Did she say 'nope just you'," I questioned and replayed a thousand times in my head. This was one of the hottest girls I had ever seen and she wants to hang out with me. With just me. And I'm in Iraq. Who's better than me?!!! I took a deep breath and tried to gather myself enough to write the directions without shaking like Michael J Fox holding a blender.

"You go right out of here and then go down to the stop sign and go right again. Then go right at the Burger King," she said.

"There's a Burger King here? No way! That's awesome!"

"Outside of our place is a gazeebo where we hang out. It's a big wooden deck with tables and chairs. I'll meet you there."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Don't say anything to the soldiers. Well, you can tell Captain Freeman; he's cool about that. And the other comics you can tell, but don't tell the Army guys." Seemed to make sense. But what did she mean by 'Captain Freeman being cool about that'? Does she do this all the time? Hmmm.

I left the MWR glowing. Crazy thoughts raced through my head. "No fuckin' way," I kept saying to myself. "No fuckin' way did she say 'just you'. No fuckin' way."

It was a very weird feeling. Rachel hadn't seen my comedy so I wondered what she saw in me. I had only talked with her for a short while. Maybe I smelled good when we took the pictures earlier? Maybe she's got a thing for bald guys? Maybe she's sick of the soldiers and the rest of the MWR staff and simply wanted someone new to talk with?

My thoughts then got dirty.

"Oh the things I'm gonna do to her, that little bitty body and those huge cans. God it's gonna be awesome!" That's the PG version. If you know me you know the graphic nature in which I think. Imagine the real thoughts.

But again, there was no comedy high and that's a huge deal. When I do a show and command the stage while making people laugh, it's sexy to many women. Or so they say. I'm in no way a celebrity but I'm the center of attention and making them laugh. Ladies say they really like that about a guy. After a show, at least after a good one, I try to keep the high I felt while on stage and immediately after. I am what no other guy is in the room - the one who was just on stage, the one who got paid to make strangers laugh. The power of the punchlines is almost like the power off the poonanni. Okay, so maybe it's a little different. If women wanna get laid, they can. If comedians wanna get laid, they can try. No one ever frowns about effort.

From that point on my whole day was consumed by Rachel, her tight little body rubbing against mine. Or maybe she wanted simply to talk. Maybe I wouldn't see her place at all. Maybe the gazeebo would be as far as I got. Hell, just playing rummy with her would be a bonus. Again, I was in Iraq where women are at a premium and where hot ones are as uncommon as an Asian guy in a porno.

I thought about her during our convoy to Camp Cedar. I took in the experience of riding in a Hummer while hoping to experience a different kind of hummer later on. Surprisingly though, I didn't share with the rest of the class. I said nothing to any of them. Not to Steve, Lamar or Tom, my fellow comedians who can surely appreciate a story about tail on the road. Especially when the road is some 10,000 miles from home. I said nothing to Captian Josh or Rich. Even 'the 'cool about that' Captain Freeman didn't get to know. Part of me didn't want to jinx things and part of me was still shocked. "No fuckin' way," I whispered to myself, shaking my head covered with a Kevlar helmet.

Once we got to Cedar a lot of down time followed. We played football, ate, and checked email. I was of course hoping Rachel had emailed me. I gave her a flyer and figured she checked out my site. Why else would she want me to come by? Maybe she saw my blue spandex shots and was hooked? Captain Josh said we'd be back by 9:30 or so. I was elated to hear such news.

Josh and I also strolled the aisles of the PX. I hoped to get some Dramamine for the next day's first Blackhawk ride. We looked but found none. "What about some of these?" I asked, gesturing toward a box of condoms. "Maybe I'll need these for my girl Rachel." Josh laughed and shook his head.

After the show we stood around the stage for a little while. The stage was the flatbed of an 18-wheeler. I think next week I'm playing in the back of a pickup truck. Some of the guys wanted to drive the Hummers around the base. I didn't voice an opinion either way. I didn't wanna make it sound imperative that we get back to Camp Adder immediately. Josh then said it would be better to drive them during the day, so we headed out. Looking at my watch became obsessive on the ride back. Our driver said that the convoy leader would be driving very fast. Excellent. "Here's twenty bucks. Drive even faster."

When we arrived back at Adder, a reporter from the military newspaper Stars and Stripes was waiting to interview us. "Sonofabitch," I mumbled to myself as I walked across the gravel land. I wanted to jump in first but again I didn't want to seem antsy. I sat back, jumping in front of Steve while he talked with the other guys. I think I only gave two answers, but they were long ones. And then I made my way to the shower. The other guys were going to check email or hit the gym. They didn't ask why I was showering or if I was going to join them later. That was a relief. I hadn't really prepared a story.

It was about 10 p.m. by this point. I didn't know how far I had to go. Rachel made the directions sound easy enough.

Rachel Part 2

I cleaned my body as if I was trying to hide drugs from an FDA Bloodhound. I thought about shaving my nether regions, but no where afforded such a place. I wasn't about to stand on my bed and shave my bag nor was I gonna stand outside in the dark with a flashlight stuck in my mouth, shining on my member and his pals. Could you imagine someone seeing me do that. "Hey man, nice show last night. You were hilarious. I have friends in Chicago (a soldier pauses and notices)... why in the hell are you shavin' your nuts outside in the dark?" That's a nice reason to have my tour cut short.

The shaving never happened. I figured she'd understand. I took both my scented soap and body wash with me along with my brown wash cloth purchased at the same time as my brown underwear. There were some times when a shower would require too much time, so a face washing would be best. This wasn't one of those times. I went as far as to stand on my head to get the water in every crevice of my body. Desert heat combined with hot mokey ass didn't gel well. As I bent over and revealed my chocolate starfish, I asked the guy showering two down from me if I was clean enough back there. "What the hell's your problem?" he said. "This is the Army not the Navy. Why do you need your ass so clean anyway?" (Let it be known that he's emailed me a dozen times since then and Rachel has only sent three.)

I dried off and hurried back to the trailer. When I left Rich was being interviewed and when I returned he was still talking. Perfect once again. No need to tell him where I was going. "You were doing an interview," I had planned to say. "I didn't wanna interrupt."

Since it was dark I dressed accordingly: light tan pants and a light gray tshirt. Yes it was after 10 at night and I was wearing cologne and hiking boots to go 'workout' if anyone asked, but I had hoped no one would. I also had my ever-present fanny pack hanging around my waist. I wore it earlier in the day when Rachel asked me to come over. Since it was packed with flyerrs and my sunglasses case, it was rather heavy as fanny packs go. Good thing, though, 'cause when she said 'just you' my fanny pack, hanging just about my unit, began a 'rockin. I then stuffed a computer keyboard and a large boulder in there to assure my throbbing boner would go unnoticed.

I speed walked past the gym and the MWR, hesitating a moment immediately after I passed. "I need to tell someone where I'm going. What if I get shot on my way there? What if I get shot while I'm there? What if I pass out from pure exhaustion? Someone needs to know," I thought to myself as I paced and chewed my fingernails.

"I'll tell Lamar. He's quiet and won't tell anyone." So I went in the gym to find him. Nothing. I then went across the street to the MWR and again, nothing. I hadn't passed them on the way there and the gym, the MWR and our trailer was the only place they could've been. Since time was wasting and I needed to run if I wasn't going to be too late, I quit worrying about the others. Like Forrest Gump, I just running. But unlike Forrest Gump, I stopped a few minutes later, maybe 3 or so. I was winded, breathing heavily and now sweating profusely. "Shit, my extra clean balls will be a mess by the time I get there."

I walked fast and thought the first street-like place I saw would also be my first right. I hoped to see a Burger King, but there was none. It was like 10:45 and I knew that keeping a woman waiting was a bad thing. But I told Rachel that I didn't know for sure what time we'd be back. I told her I'd be there by 10:30 OR I'd see her at the gym. It was after that time and I didn't see her in the gym when I looked for Lamar. "Maybe she's still waiting for me, my little gazeebo gal."

I ran faster toward the lighted street area. I turned right and headed down what turned into a parking lot area. There was no real street of Burger King anywhere. Then I walked closer and saw that it was the base commander's quarters. Nice. I'm walking alone late and night looking for some tail on the downlow and stumble upon the head hancho. I acted as if I was supposed to be there and turned and walked away. I got back on the main road and continued onward. Within seconds I saw the stop sign. I consulted my directions and sure enough they said "turn right at the stop sign." I was like Mikey in The Goonies looking for One Eyed Willie's treasure. I was getting close.

I began to run again and quickly fizzled. Cursing myself for being so outta shape at a time where I needed to be like Carl Lewis - lean with a big dick, not black and fast - I also questioned my motives. "If you get there and she's not there and you risked this gig only to get stood up you're one stupid asshole." Sweaty and smelling fairly good, but very stupid.

I kept running even with a cramp in my side. My fanny pack was bouncing around and made for an even more awkward experience. At first I grabbed it and kept it against my waist. That made for an uncomfortable running position, so I removed it and held it like a relay race baton. I got to the stop sign and turned right. It was very dark and now I was a bit worried, adrenaline running through my body coulpled with the feeling of uncertainty.

Now I had done something similar many times before. I had chased tail on the road only to be left high and dry, sometimes not even meeting up with the girl and other times having her and her friends laugh right in my face as I pleaded for a piece. But those times were back in America, maybe in Kansas of Florida or Nevada or California - never had I chased tail in a war zone some 10,000 miles from home. But it wasn't just tail, it was Rachel. I kept the vision of her locked and focused on it like sirloin dangling from Pavlov's dog. I thought of the people I would share the story with, the pictures I would have, the embellishments that could be made. I thought about what Rachel would feel like, what she would taste like, how she would touch me. I also thought about her not being there. I thought about my looking like a total douchebag. But at least one who began 'working out'.

Rachel Part III

I continued down the road after turning right at the stop sign. The road was poorly lit and I thought for sure I was going to end up in the ditch along the side of the road. I also had planned that I would say I was getting a CD from Rachel if anyone stopped to ask. The uncertainty in conjunction with her pure beauty were both fueling my trek.

I saw another road and then immediately on the left I saw a Burger King. "Holy shit this is happening. But how come we haven't been told about the Burger King?" I then cursed myself for having my priorities so outta whack. "Stop worrying about Burger King and think about 'Having It Your Way' with Rachel," I said to myself.

Many cars and trails similar to our lined the portion of land across from the BK. I thought this had to be it. I walked quickly toward the finish line, passing some appararent sleeping quarters initially but not seeing any porche or gazeebo. I panicked for a minute and then, beyond some pickup trucks, saw the gazeebo. It was the most beautifully build gazeebo ever. And there she was sitting atop a wooden picnic tables. Or not. My eyes were playing tricks on me and I saw that as a way of getting me to finish my trek. I slowly walked through the small parking lot right off the gazeebo and approached the meeting place.

There was no Rachel. I looked at my watch and saw it said 10:50. I was now 20 minutes late. I entered the gazeebo and walked around, wondering if she may have left a note revealing her room number. Or perhaps there would be a train of rose petals leading to it. But neither was found.

I cursed myself for being late and not getting their sooner. I was upset but not as mad as you might think. I had played the unfortunate scenario over and over in my head many times. I also didn't have a comedy high and no Budwesier or Jack Daniel's energy flowed through my veins.

The gazeebo sat at the front of the trailers. They were position much closer than ours or at least seemed to be. They were also along the wooden walkways while our were on rocks. After a few minutes of pacing and wondering, I began to walk down the main walkway. Four trailers sat on either side with two doors facing each other all the way down. I turned my head with precision each time, hoping to see any sign of hope. Maybe a red light would be on like in Amsterdam. After all, Rachel and I talked about her upcoming trip to Amsterdam and I talked about our stop there before we hit Kuwait. I thought maybe that bonded us. Sort of.

I walked slowly so as if to not make much noise. If anyone saw me and I didn't see them they would know I didn't live there. Who walks that slow to their own place? I swiveled my head left and right as if being at a live tennis match. There was no sign of her anywhere. Ever trailer looked the same. Some of them had signs reading daytime sleeper. At first glance I thought they were names of the residents. I got excited at this until I read the note. But then I thought, "You don't even know her last name dumbass. You know her first name but surely they just put her first initial and last name. Or maybe just the last name. They you're screwed. You might as well just knock on every door."

But there was no way I was going to do that. I got to the end of the walkway and turned around and walked back to the gazeebo. On my way back I again looked intensely down every row and found nothing. I stood in the gazeebo for a few minutes, counting the large bottles of water in the tall cooler, and thought. "I did say that if I wasn't there I would be at the gym." So off to the gym I went and began running back the same way I had just come.

Somewhat dejected, I used the "at least I have her email" as motivation that things weren't a total loss. I then began to think that of course it was too good to be true. No way would I score in Iraq with arguably the hottest girl in the country. But it was worth a try and had things happened, I would be a hero among my peers.

I arrived to the gym and looked everywhere. No Rachel. I then headed over to the MWR where she worked. Again, no Rachel. The guys weren't there or in the gym so I was safe. I was also sweaty so the "I went for a run" story would still apply.

But I wasn't ready to give up. I thought of this as a chance of a lifetime. "What if she fell asleep and just awoke as I headed back? What if she left a note at the gazeebo? What if she saw one of the guys and told him to tell me she was looking for me?" What if ... the scenarios were playing havoc with me. I could do nothing else but ... run back there again. And I did just that. Okay, so I ran some of the way and walked the rest of the way.

This time I covered all avenues of possibility. She may have simply fallen asleep and never even made it to meet me. She may have waited for me for like 15 minutes and then thought I stood her up, so she went to bed and didn't even both checking the gym. She may be there now. She may've done this often and simply enjoyed leading guys on with no plans on even playing Uno with them. She may have a boyfriend back home and had phone sex with him instead. She may have been with all the comics I was on tour with. I actually thought of that. I thought that I would get there and Steve, Lamar and Tom - and whoever else - would be sitting on the picnic tables in the gazeebo holding a number, awaiting their turn. I though it could all be a hoax, that never was I to hook up in any way, shape or form with Rachel. But nothing pointing convincingly enough so I thought it best to head back there.

Because I knew exactly where I was going, I walked more deliberately and with conviction of my destination. I then ran the last leg of it until I reached the Burger King. Speed walking ensued and the gazeebo was again in sight. I closed my eyes and envisioned her sitting there yet again. I clicked my heels together and said 'There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's ...' But she wasn't there and I wanted to go home. But like the pathetic, tenacious trooper I am, I headed back down the wooden walkway and looked left and right as if I would see a banner reading "Scott Derenger: I'm waiting and wet for you. Just let yourself in." I saw nothing of the sort. I did see someone at the end of the walkway but didn't wanna yell to them and ask about Rachel. Something told me it wasn't meant to be and I left it to chance that I would see her poke her pretty little head out the door. But chance failed me, too.

I grabbed a water from the cooler and sat on the table. I laughed to myself a little, thinking 'what did you expect?' I then thought that she plays this game often for fun. And why not? Video games, movies and emails get boring after a while. I didn't really lose anything other than time. I gained a better sense of what kind of shape I was in and I know how to get to the Burger King and the MWR for future trips. Besides, if I was gonna get stood up, it had better be by a smoking hot chick. It's not like Rachel was some snaggle-tooth obese chick with pimples on her ass and long hairs hanging off her nipples. But then again how was I so sure. Maybe I would've met her and back to her room only to find out she was a dead lay. Maybe she was a total looker and a less than active participant. Maybe she was a southern virgin, all spiritual and maybe reading the bible is what she wanted wanted to do at 10:30 on a Saturday night. Maybe she was really planning to show until I farted at the birthplace of Abraham and karma took over. Prophets are said to not like gas released on sacred grounds.

I removed a flyer of mine from my fanny pack and wrote a short note on there. "Rachel, Sorry I missed you. It was great meeting you. I hope we can keep in touch. Keep these boys and girls busy over here. Thanks for what you do. All the best, Scott Derenger xoxo." I placed a rock on top of it and left it on the end of the closest picnic table off the walkway from their trailers. Then I figured someone else would find it and email me instead. I could share with them my story. Or perhaps they got played the same way.

I left the gazeebo with my tail between my legs and the water in my hand, my clean but sweaty and disappointed manhood in the other. 'What Might've Been' by Little Texas playing in my head as a tear trickled down my cheek. I must have turned back toward the gazeebo a dozen times before it became outta sight. My walk then slowed to more of a saunder as I kicked rocks off the road.

Once back on the main stretch leading back to the gym and MWR, I began running again. "I might as well get a good workout in," I figured and kept on running. Ahead of me I saw someone walking toward me down the same side of the road. He had on a white shirt but I couldn't see his face. It was dark and he was black. Then I got closer and he gestured at me like he knew me. It was Lamar. My first thought was that he was sent to look for me. They all were only he found me first.

"Scott Derenger," he said, "What's up? What are you doing out here?" I told him I was out for a run and he seemed okay with that answer. He then asked if I had any extra for batteries and for his walkman. "I do but they're back in my room." "OKay, cool," he said. "Can I get them when we go back? I'm heading to the DFAC for some late night chow." I figured I'd head back, too.

He asked why I was running so late and I said 'you woulnd't even want to know.' I then spilled the beans. "I wasn't running to run. I was over at Rachel's." Which I was, I just wasn't in her room. "No shit. That's awesome." "I even brought my camera." To that he laughed and then asked how I managed to arrange a meeting with her. I told him and shared all my thoughts during my treks to her place. He walked ahead of me and then tried to flag down a bus heading to the DFAC. I continued to tell him and felt like an even bigger ass as I explained - in detail - what happened.

We got on the bus and it took some people back by the Burger King and right to the gazeebo. "Man I was just here," I said to Lamar. He just nodded and tried to talk with the girl seated across from him. He sat in front of me and I simply talked to the back of his head most of the time. Seemed a bit rude on his part but I was still shocked and now tired to really care.

Once in the DFAC he kept on listening but at a distance. He didn't even wask his hands next to me. He hurried to the find the others and then made a bee line for the chow line.

I saw the guys sitting together near the main line. They waved me over.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rich asked me. "I went for a long run that was really a walk. I had to clear my mind of some shit," I told him. "In hiking boots and pants?" he questioned as he looked at my attire. "Well I'm an asshole, what can I say?" "Do you always shower before you go for a late night walk?" Rich proceeded. "I just said I was an asshole, so why not shower and then workout?" That seemed to satisfy him and the questions ceased. I got up to get some cereal and everyone else stayed put. I returned to quickly eat while they had all finished as Lamar and I arrived.

Captain Josh was at the other end the table on the aisle and stood up with his tray in hand. "Well gentlemen, I'm heading back. I have to meet Rachel at the gazeebo." And with that I yelled SONOFABITCH and they all launched back from their chairs and began laughing in a way never seen before. All of them - Lamar, Tom, Steve, Rich, Josh and even Captain Freeman. Every one of them was in on it and kept it hush hush the whole day. They were all in hysterics. Then, rapid fire questions followed, at least while they were able to talk that is.

Because I had given some thought to it being a total hoax, I was prepared for this. To a certain extent. Then I found out that they were all there - Tom, Josh, Lamar and Josh - waiting for my arrival at 10:30 p.m. They hid in the bed of one of the pickup trucks with a video camera. When I didn't show up by 10:45, they left. I missed them by 5 minutes.

"That's when I thought that maybe Rachel and you were pulling one over on us," Steve shared. "Why else would you not show up to meet her?"

People seated around us wondered what was so damn funny. The guys pounded the table and turned beet red. Their eyes watered as I explained myself and what had really happened. Lamar was rolling as well. "I almost lost it when you told me you brought your camera. That's why I walked so fast and sat in front of you. I could barely keep a straight face."

I took it like a champ. I was relieved to know I was punked instead of stood up. I'm always up for a good joke, and if others are gonna laugh so hard, bring it on. It was the talk of the rest of the trip.

Captain Josh then reminded me of my mentioning the condoms to him at the PX earlier in the day. He just smiled, knowing I would not be in need of any aside from making water balloons.

Then came the next day. I went to check email before we took our first Black Hawk ride. I entered the MWR and there she was, as gorgeous as ever. And why not - she had a great night's sleep? We made eye contact and then Rachel came to hug me, but I was having none of it. "How can you do something like that? Just because you're so much better looking than everyone else doesn't mean you have to be a bitch. That was really mean. I come some 10,000 mile to make people laugh and you play me for a fool? That's fuckin' rude. You don't mess with people's feelings like that. I know I barely knew you but I really thought you wanted to hang out, if only to talk. I've never met anyone like you who actually gave a shit about me. Or at least appeared to. Now I know all you chicks are alike. Snobby little bitches who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves."

She was speechless. She covered her mouth with both hands and even tried to quiet me down a little. "Don't touch me," I yelled. Some soliders in the library area came out to see what the commotion was. Other turned around from the tables near the front desk. "Maybe if I yell loudly enough these guys will know what kind of a person you really are. Their lives are on the line every day and there's someone like you here in charge of their morale. That's so fuckin' sad. You should be ashamed of yourself."

She scurried back behind the counter to attend to the soldiers standing awe at the counter. They too stood there, mouths agape. "Watch out for her," I said to them. "She may look all sweet and innocent but she's not worth it. Not worth a goddamn dime." And then I went into the computer center only to find them not working. I went into the library instead and thumbed through some magazines and read book titles on the shelves. I was too distraught to focused, especially with her standing only a few feet away.

I look over to the counter and saw no one was there, so I headed that way. Rachel was no crying, a few tears trickling down her still gorgeous face. "Good, I hope you know how it feels to be embarrassed. "But your friends said you wouldn't mind," she sobbed. "Friends? They're not friends. I just met them. I work with them, nothing else. What the fuck do they know about me? It's not like they ran all over this base in the dark looking for you."

Now what really happened went something like this. Rachel looked at me upon my entering and lusciously bounced toward me, hugging me, her embrace warm and her bosoms even warmer. But still I was upset. A little. The boobs made the frustration subside a little. I wanted to be really upset and hurt but couldn't. I remembered the guys' reactions at my expense and laughed inside. I had made their trip and Rachel enjoyed being a part of it. Being that I also was prepared for every scenario - even being hoaxed - I wasn't so upset. Rachel and I laughed, took pictures and bid our farewells. She mentioned never being to Chicago, so I invited her. "I'll be waited for your visit. If I could get you to hang out as I searched for you just outside your room, how in the hell should I expect to visit Chicago," I joked. "I'll just keep the email address and won't hold my breath."

And with that I left, shaking my head and smiling. It was a great experience and being played the fool was fun. I've since contacted Rachel about sending pictures to me of her doing nothing. She's hot enough where her watching TV in sweats and a flannel would be perfect. To date nothing has been received. Stay tuned. However, the guy from the shower and I are having dinner in July.

The end.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005
1:04 PM
Below you'll find everything I wrote about and while in Iraq. To see other photos and shorter stories, check out my Daily Derenger archives from the front page of ShaveYourHead.com

(*/*SORRY, YOU HAVE TO SCROLL ALL THE WAY DOWN TO FIND THE MENU BAR. NOT SURE WHY. I WISH I WAS A LITTLE GEEKIER ABOUT THIS WEB STUFF.*/*)

Even more photos from Iraq, posted May 4.

You may have seen her before or this could be your first glimpse of the lovley Rachel. She worked at a base in Iraq, taking care of the phone, computers and other sources of morale boosting. The story about her is not completely done, but rest assured it will be soon. And you will enjoy it immensely.

This is a C-130 transport plane in which we rode into and out of Iraq.

The soldiers boarded first and then we followed, being that we were dropped off back in Kuwait before them.

Not much too do onboard the C-130 other than sleep, stare or look at the guy across from you.

Me, Lamar, Captain Josh, Tom and Steve on the runway awaiting the C-130. Moments later we saw U.S. military Stryker vehicles unload troops who had been injured in combat minutes before.

The lone casualty of my war experience - my favorite jeans. Climbing aboard the Blackhawks cause my jeans to rip. There was nothing that could be done. Not even the 3rd Level Trauma unit could stitch 'em up. I also left behind my laptop power cord and by spare toothbrush and toothpast, but my jeans I really miss.

Blurry bald guys at Camp Sykes in Tallafar, Iraq. This is the way drunk ladies see us at last call.

Thumbs down to the No Alcohol policy in Iraq. They have non-alcoholic beer. Great. Let's drink a lot, get bloated and then piss our pants with the enemy in site.

Inside one of Saddam's palaces. This is taken from the stage where we had a show. Across from this room is the computer center and below it is a gym and a coffee shop. Saddam would shit if he came back and saw Americans drinking latte's and doing situp's in his palace.

Checking with ground control for clearance in a Blackhawk. Actually I was seeing if they delivered pizza to the runway - we sat there forever.

Always dreamed of having my name on a some computer paper and taped to a window with a half of a rainbow nearby. The rainbow symbolizes the many troops lost in a previous war. But the jerk of a comedian I am can only think of the "half-a-fag" reference.

That's a Stryker vehicle, similar to a tank and a Humvee, but very fast.

Scott Derenger imposters were all over Iraq.

Hundreds of soldiers pack the Camp Syke DFAC (dining facility) to see our final show. The maze-like thing you see in the back is to protect the troops from any suicide attacks. Below the wooden walls are sandbags. A few months ago something like that happened in a DFAC nearby, killing 23 soldiers.

The bald and freshly shaven Steve Burr dries his head just before we depart for the Kuwait Int'l airport.

While waiting for our Blackhawks or busses, we used the time to play some catch. I also used the time to pose for pictures, too.

Inside a makeshift gym at Camp Dibis. This was one of the smallest but also one of the best shows of the tour. Doing a show is a gym was nice, though - you could deliver a punchline and then head to the squat rack while they laughed.

Sunday, May 01, 2005
8:08 AM
More pictures from my Comics on Duty Tour to Iraq, added May 1.

A Marine at Camp Echo in Iraq. Moments later he his fellow Marines departed on a mission to detonate confiscated bombs.

This began the convoy to detonate the bombs. Our rooms were right beside where they readied their Humvees.

These are some of mortar and roadside bombs that have done so much damage in Iraq.

An Iraqi Air Force plane was overtaken by American soldiers and then made to look like a quilt.

Steve Burr thought it funny to see what I'd look like with a fro. Someone actually got this signed poster.

The biggest show we did - some 600 people - held in a huge movie theater at Camp Anaconda, Iraq. Sorry my camera sucks.

After the show a very nice looking soldier desires my autograph. Wow!

Everyone from comedians to MWR personnel to Colonel Fitzgerald pose for this shot after the Anaconda theater show.

Playing for about 30 people at a hospital on Anaconda.

Two nurses who attended the hospital show. The one on my right snorted a lot, a true sign that we were funny.

Michelle (L) and her fellow Montana National Guardswoman, Cali. I met Michelle 3 years ago during a series of shows in Montana. She's since been deployed to Iraq and contacted me when she saw that I would be at Anaconda. It was great to see a familiar face among so many I didn't know.

The front of one of Saddam's palaces that was bombed in Tikrit.

Biting the actual bullets I shot from Army machine guns.

A bunch of awesome guys from the 42nd Infantry Artillery, mostly from the Boston area. These guys escorted me all around FOB Summerall, even during the mortar attacks during our show.

To pass time aboard a Blackhawk in route to Tikrit, Steve chooses a book by best-selling author Michael Crichton; I opt for the morale-boosting, "club."

This things patrols the northwest border of Iraq near Iran.

I guess the sign didn't apply when bombs hit off in the distance. What better way to divert your attention to war than with some dry Coco Coco Puffs.

More Army ladies at Camp Danger in Tikrit, Iraq.

Bald troops at FOB Stone in northwestern Iraq.

A rather scenic shot from a Blackhawk flying over northern Iraq. Vacation anyone?

Thanks for letting me take a dip in your pool, Saddam. Where's the damn water?

**Check back for more photos later this week!**