Playing Command and Conquer doesn't count I'm afraid

So I'm supposed to be writing a column about the military, but I don't really know that much about the real miltary. All I really know if what my uncle Mike has told me over the years and I'm sure he, being an Air Force man, has a little bais in that direction.

I’ll admit I’m not very familiar with the military that fights today’s wars. I am however really familiar with the military that fought in the conflict known as the Star Wars.

I’ve just been informed I’m not allowed to write a column about how what this country really needs to get out of Iraq is our own Death Star.

Of course, a Death Star is pretty much my answer to every problem.

Professor: Mr. Shinney would you like to turn your final project in?

Me: (brandishing a remote menacingly) Would you like some Death Star to the face?

Professor: You get an A.

Me: (continues to brandish)

Professor: I meant two As. Three. Four As and the naked female class mate of your choosing!

Geek on.

And I read that thing about the lady who died from too much water, now I'm really scared

I’ve said before that I’m terrified of doctors. Not actually doctors in the way that if I say one on the street I would run like a little baby who could run, but going to the doctor. I hate going to the doctor because he (or she in theory but so far all my adult-life doctors have been men) always ask me to do things. Things that are good for me. Which usually mean things that will make me miserable.

Like when the doctor told me not to have dairy for 10, right over Christmas, prime eggnog season. Or the time I had to were wrist bracers that cut the feeling off in my fingers.

This last trip to the doctor, he told me to make sure I drink 64 ounces of water, everyday. 64 ounces! That’s not including any pop, milk or juice I may drink, it has to be pure water. I’ve never peed so much in my life.

And the problem is when I watch TV I discover that I have all the symptoms of bladder issues that they advertise medicines for. So I’m all paranoid that I have something seriously wrong with bladder or my prostate or something else down there in the important region and when they get to the end of the commercial they tell me to talk to me doctor and the whole horrible cycle begins anew.

Geek on.