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raise your hand if you love Fridays

Posted by Aaron - 07/04/07 at 04:04:00 am

I’m blogging now because I don’t know what will happen to me tonight. I am already on my second martini, the joys of a hard weeks work, and about to embark to my first desert party. There isn’t much to decode here. A desert party is just that, a party in the middle of the desert. Not to worry, I have a tent packed, three liters of water and fifth of Jack just in case.

Let me just say that this week has been epic. I am still riding my high after covering the president on his visit to Fort Irwin. I got two great stories out of that. One on his actual visit and then one on the policy implications for Fort Irwin in his speech at the base. Then the Army Chief of Staff, Gen. Robert Shoomaker, announced this morning that Fort Irwin’s commanding general, Brig. Gen. Robert Cone will be assigned to manage the training of Afghan troops in Afghanistan. The full story will be in tomorrow’s Desert Dispatch.

Now I’m looking at a great party in the desert with some cool kids and a chili cook-off to cover on Saturday. Plus it is warm and sunny (it’s dark now, but still warm) in Barstow. A much better condition that the 9 degrees and snow Becca told me about.

Raise your hand if you love Fridays!

one step closer to being a man

Posted by Aaron - 06/04/07 at 02:04:00 am

Changed my brake pads today. Got my hands all black and dirty. Wiped them on my jeans. That makes me one step closer to being a man. All I have to do is kill something with my bare hands, eat its flesh, RAW, and slap a girl’s ass.

Me and the Bushman

Posted by Aaron - 05/04/07 at 07:04:00 am

President George W. Bush visiting Fort Irwin on Wednesday, and I was there. (Full story in the Desert Dispatch)

We shared a moment, the president and me. While he was visiting the National Training Center at Fort Irwin on Wednesday, he drove a small robot, called a Talon, used for removing IEDs toward the gathered pool of reporters. He drove the small robot right at me, a strange looking man to the president, wearing a bright green shirt. He must have noticed me; it was impossible not to in that shirt, worn by design. He noticed me. He looked up, a big goofy smile on his face. I returned the favor, flashing a classic goofy Aupperlee smile back at him. Then I shrugged my soldiers. Bush called over a New York Times reporter to make fun of him. If I was not the Desert Dispatch reporter, if I was a bit more recognizable, perhaps if I was the New York Times reporter, he surely would have made fun of me. Instead, I wrote, “drove a robot right at me” in my notebook.

You can’t help but feel badass, running around with national reporters, wearing an official White House press pass around your neck, watching the every move of the president of the United States of America. People who are on the West Wing called my cell phone. The Secret Service called my cell phone. You can’t help but feel badass. But then there is this guy, the president, who is badass. Regardless of politics, any person who flies around on Air Force One, who lands with the escort of five blackhawks on Marine One, who is the president of the United States, is badass. So there’s this guy, badass, but does not act like it. He does, at times, calling out the axis of evil, threatening the evil doers, vetoing bills and shit. He acts badass, but walking around, talking to soldiers, eating sub-standard submarine sandwiches in a gym. He isn’t so badass.

Still, I drove home from the president’s visit feeling as though I just left a girl’s house who I really liked having just made out with her for the first time. Sort of floating feeling. And you don’t kiss and tell, so I won’t. I’ll just keep it to myself. Though you can read about it all in Thursday’s Desert Dispatch.

(no personal photos from the event, I was in total reporter mode. Here’s one from www.whitehouse.gov. It’s the Bushman touring an Iraqi village. Capt. Pat Armstrong leads the president with Brig. Gen. Robert Cone and Col. Mark Calvert tagging behind.)

With the rents

Posted by Aaron - 03/04/07 at 06:04:00 am

Mom and Dad, Karen and David to those who did not grow up on Knapp Street, circa Sunday, April 1, at Rainbow Basin outside Barstow, Calif.

The parents left, probably rolling to Las Vegas right now. All the nerves of trying to entertain two people in Barstow — gone — from Friday night until this evening, we were all entertained and rarely at my town’s expense.

Friday night, Meet Me In St. Louis at Barstow Community College. It lacked the polish of a Kalamazoo College or Forest Hills Northern production but was more genuine, even for acting.

Saturday, the grand tour of Barstow, including the Harvey House, the Route 66 Museum, the Railroad Museum, the Slash X Cafe, the only sushi restaurant in the desert, shopping in Victorville because my wardrobe was not up to my mom’s standards (she was right, I need new clothes). Plus I needed a shirt to meet the president in. Then a nice dinner of In ‘N Out in Lenwood. My parents went back to their hotel understanding more about this place I live and the demands of my job, even on a day off. Near fatal accident on the I-15. Hostage situation in downtown Barstow. Germans walking Route 66.

Sunday, jumped into Timmy’s truck and drove out into the middle of nowhere. Rainbow Basin, hiking, exploring, off-roading, being desert rats. Finally something that might inspire me in this paxil town. Ended the night with a big BBQ over at the house, meet the friends, the friends parents and some of the best Barstow has to offer.

Monday, Venice Beach and the weirdos that frequent it. Bought a few coffee mugs and had a corn dog. First time I took a day off from work since Christmas (mind you that was Christmas day I took off). Tigers lost but baseball is upon us. Gloves, hats and bats. On the way home, Los Angeles traffic. Almost smashed up the rental car. Wouldn’t be a trip on the I-10 without one.

And just because you made it this far, an altercation my mom and a Joshua tree got into on the top of Rainbow Basin. She learned not to stand too close to their pointy leaves.

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