Operation: Binge

In late February, Ingrid spent an entire weekend in San Diego attending Annie's bridal party. On the weekend she was gone, Operation: Binge was initiated. It was an extremely dangerous mission and not everyone was expected to make it out alive. Despite those odds, however, Darren (codename: Private Dirty), Frosty (codename: Private Snowman) and me (codename: General K -- That's right, I'm a general and Frosty and Darren are my sweaty privates) volunteered for the mission. Report in, team!



We all rendezvoused at my job's corporate headquarters then headed over to the Westside to wage war. The first stage of the operation was a short reconnaissance mission at Cabo Cantina in Brentwood. We had heard good things from others who had previously done surveillance on the place and since none of us had been there before, we decided to confirm things for ourselves.



Once inside, we armed ourselves with Mexican-made .22s and began unloading. Hoo-ahh!



"AT-TEN-TION! Are you sleeping Pvt. Dirty?!? Wake up and commence pounding! That's an order!"



Well, I must say that .22s may be small and less powerful than say, Sake Bombs or Bazookas, but after enough shots from them, any man will go down... trust me.



It turned out that Cabo wasn't exactly what we had hoped it would be. Suffice it to say that it was a typical college bar. Having come directly from work, the suit I was wearing made me stand out like a sore thumb, which was inconsistent with the mission objective of blending in and conducting surveillance. "Before I compromise our mission, soldiers, let's move out!"



We left our .22s in Cabo and entered Battlefield HS to engage the enemy. "Storm the front! Go! Go! Go!"



Immediately upon arrival, we rushed the bar and once again armed ourselves with .22s. This time, however, we paired up with Japanese-made .22s, which are known to be much more effective at taking people down. Hoo-aah!



"Are you sleeping again, Pvt. Dirty?!?! What is your major malfunction, soldier?!? If I catch you sleeping again, you'll be waking up to a neckchop! Now wake up and commence pounding! That's an order!"



In the midst of battle, Pvt. Dirty's commanding officer, Major Annabelle, radioed him to track his whereabouts. "Do not compromise our position, Pvt. Dirty! Inform Major Annabelle that if you gave her your coordinates, you'd have to kill her. Do I make myself clear, soldier?"



"What don't you understand about this being a covert operation, Pvt. Dirty? Mum's the word. Do you copy?"



The 2006 Winter Olympics were being televised that evening and we responded by awarding medals for the fastest drinker. Although no world record was broken that night, I did manage to win the gold medal and proudly rested my .22 atop the podium. Pvt. Snowman got silver and Pvt. Dirty took the bronze. Enemy down. Objective complete.



We emerged from Battleground HS victorious and miraculously unscathed, and then seamlessly transitioned to Battleground Q to once again engage enemy forces.



Battleground Q was filled to capacity with civilians and rather than placing the lives of innocent civilians in jeopardy, we secured a pool table upstairs....



I hadn't played pool inover a year, but it all came back to me as soon as I picked up the stick. When it comes to pool, I'm a marksman, and I showed Pvt. Dirty and Pvt. Snowman what it takes to become a general. Roger that.



"Hey soldiers, I've got an idea. Let's take a picture that we can send home to our loved ones to let them know we're okay. Pvt. Snowman, you can pose with the attack stick and try your best to look tough."



The team had been in battle for so long and Pvt. Snowman had missed his girlfriend (Sportscenter) so much, that he reached out to contact her. Unfortunately, reception on the battlefield was poor and Pvt. Snowman was unable to see her clearly on the viewing screen. After failing to make contact with Sportcenter, he attempted to make contact with his other girlfriend...



... and this time he was successful. Ewww, Pvt. Snowman. Get a room.



I eventually shifted gears from the small caliber .22s to some heavy weaponry. Now that's what I'm talking about! Lock and load!



After I was fully loaded, I prepared for all-out warfare and geared up with a helmet, flak jacket and a pair of goggles.



By the end of the night, we had completed yet another objective. The team sustained minor injuries in the process, but nothing life-threatening. Good job, team!



On the way back to camp, Pvt. Snowman requested that we stop by his other girlfriend's house (Fatburger), but she was already asleep. It was probably a good thing she was unavailable because phase two of Operation: BINGE required us to be ready for battle at 0700 hours the following day.



I was tired in the morning from the night before but managed to muster up some strength and pushed on...



"Pvt. Dirty! Are you sleeping again?!?! (*Neckchop!*) Wake up and get us to the battlefield! That's an order!"



Speaking of which, orders for the day were as follows: Take your team to De Bell Golf Course in Burbank, engage the enemy, who goes by the name "18 holes," rescue "Par" and do your best to avoid encountering "The Rough" along the way.

Roger that.



Pvt. Dirty and Pvt. Snowman are terrible golfers. Pvt. Dirty has been on a regulation course once before and Pvt. Snowman has never even set foot on one. To get a sense of their inexperience in this type of warfare, in the photo above taken at the 1st hole, I'm standing where my shot from the teebox landed. Pvt. Dirty is hitting his second shot. Pvt. Frosty's first shot went O.B. in the trees behind Pvt. Dirty. At this point, I couldn't help but think to myself, "This is going to be a long drawn-out battle... We may not succeed in rescuing Par."



Thankfully, at the 2nd hole, reinforcements arrived. Ernie (codename: Private Silk-E), an excellent golfer, joined us and was ready for battle. Round two... Fight!



There's a rumor floating around camp that Pvt. Snowman is unable to go three hours without dropping some bombs in the latrine. This rumor is evidently true.



Rumor also has it that Pvt. Dirty earned his name because he's unable to go for three minutes without having a dirty thought. This rumor, too, is evidently true.



At the 9th hole, Ernie ordered us breakfast burritos at 39 a pop. Good thing we didn't order the Ca dy, which was 100.



The breakfast burritos were surprisingly tasty and worth their weight in gold. T ank Y u for the burritos, Pvt. Silk-E.



Like the night before, we were each armed with a pair of .22s, but this time, my favorite kind... German-made Heinekens. Pvt. Silk-E, someday you can show this picture to your kids and tell them all about Operation: Binge when they're old enough.



In the back nine, Pvt. Snowman finally warmed up and found his groove. Everyone was pleasantly surprised. Especially the party behind us...



After seeing this sign, Pvt. Dirty had flashbacks of the good times he had in his life as a civilian. Playing golf with .22s on a full stomach and seeing Hooters, Pvt. Dirty couldn't have been happier... It was like someone had just given him a shot of morphine.



Likewise, I enjoyed my time on the battlefield. Here I am preparing to blast this projectile straight down the fairway. Fire in the hole!



It was a fantastic battle and while I did have to take cover in a few bunkers along the way, I put up a pretty decent score. And although I don't recall exactly what each of us scored, after giving Pvt. Snowman five extra strokes per hole and Pvt. Dirty three extra strokes per hole, I'm pretty sure we rescued Par. Hoo-ahh!



To celebrate our success, the team headed back to camp and gathered in the Shakey's mess hall for an all-you-can-eat buffet, which included pizza, fried chicken, mojos and more. Way to clean your plate, soldier.



"Are you sleeping again, Pvt. Dirty?!?! Fine. I suppose you've earned yourself some sleep time and so has the rest of the team. Good work on making Operation: Binge a success, soldiers. Mission accomplished!!!"