So after Reginald and I got done falconing, we toweled off and headed to the Olive Garden for some applesauce.

First of all, Miss Georgia (in the Miss Universe Pageant) is...not that hot. Definitely attractive -- especially when she's not wearing so much makeup, because from the photos it seems that her preferred makeup style is "prostitute with daddy issues" -- but not in that caliber of super-hotness that would portend a country full of saucy nymphs just waiting for me to arrive, sweep them off their feet, and confuse them with a reference to "Georgia peaches" that will only be funny in my head. And, frankly, this is what I was expecting when I signed up for this. Who wants to head around the world to volunteer his time if he's not going to be met by a half naked seductress with strawberries who wants to peace HIS corps? Serious doubts, readers, serious doubts.

Second of all, there is no second of all.

There's not really anything funny about the final preparations I have to make before I leave. For instance, I have to buy some shirts and pants. Hooray. It's more complicated than it seems; I'm utterly uninterested in purchasing four pairs of black Dockers, even though I'm supposed to be packing "business casual" clothes, because I think I would end up feeling like I was eternally on my way to a high school band recital. So I have to figure out what the hell else falls under the category of "business casual." In MY business, I'm allowed to show up at work in sandals, dirty jeans, and a t-shirt reading "deez (picture of some nuts)," so I have little practice at "business casual." We have no need for such terms in Hollywood (at least, those of us who work for laid-back production companies); "Casual Friday" at my office would mean you could probably show up naked. These are the concepts with which I will liberate the Caucasus. They are sure to be extremely receptive. The nymphs should be, anyway.

I also have to go to the Army Surplus store to buy comically oversized winterwear, in case I get stationed in the mountains. In the winter months in places where it gets really cold, all you basically have is a wood stove in the kitchen and a sleeping bag in your room, from what I understand. So you have to pack accordingly. The problem is, though, that I am not necessarily going to BE in a place where it gets so cold. I could be in a city/town near the beach with humid summers and merely damp winters. But I'll still have used a significant portion of my limited luggage space, in the luggage that it is my responsibility to haul everywhere I go, on thick and ultimately useless winterwear! Because they don't narrow your final destination down even a little bit before you get to your in-country training! The US Government! It's MMM-Tastic!

Besides shopping for clothing, there are various other things I need to accomplish before I leave. I've now been here for more than two weeks. I haven't done a lot, and my circadian rhythm has reverted to the ridiculous 6am-6pm wake cycle that I always struggle against when I'm home and lacking in structured responsibility. Mostly I've been watching a lot of television. It's like a summer in high school or early in college all over again. I don't know why I never apply any of my mature life lessons to my actions when I'm home. I act like a pretty proper grown-up when I'm NOT here, and I'm not THAT concerned about my ability to keep from embarrassing myself in Georgia, but when I'm here I might as well be a sullen teenager. I can't figure this out. And I'm not getting as much work or studying done as I could be. But, on the bright side, if anyone wants to come over to watch MTV, talk about AP Calc, and snicker about things that shouldn't be funny if you're sober, I'll be up.

Piece. (snicker)

13 days until departure.
15 days until Georgia.