Shepperd's Personal Diary 1

First October Entry

by Elfkin

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ase/elfkin/diarys01.php
Summary: John tries to get comfortable with keeping a journal

October 6th 2004 2200 hours

What a total load of horse apples. *snort*

A journal.

Only women keep journals. In fact, journal is a woman's word. Ladies home Journal.... Journal of Women's Health..... Country Woman's Journal....

Am I making myself clear here?

Beckett, I am making my first official post in my journal a semi-formal protest. You are a Doctor. Do a friggin' psyche eval on each of us and call it done. This personal journal crap is just plain cruel.

I am not writing anything down here that is gonna be all touchy feely, either. This is gonna be my log of how my week went. That is all. No internal insights. In fact, I am tempted just to turn it into an advanced version of my mission reports. (Doodles in the margins and all) This could be my non-mission, mission report.

Prepare to be assaulted by the pathetically boring stylings of an off duty Major.

Shit. Nothing is coming.

Okay, Where is that fucking outline you gave us. Oh yeah. Let's see. Hmmm..... "Outline the events that seem crucial, thought provoking or memorable. Be sure to include how you feel emotionally about said occurrences and try also to include ways you think you can improve any situation that have been problematic for you or record solutions that may have been particularly successful.

Also, a journal is a good way to manage goals and to clarify issues for your self that you may feel need worked out. Use the journal to create a log of progress toward specific goals."

Okay, how about Chrysnbon. That nut job doing the cooking. I have a goal, to resist the urge to send him through a wormhole terminating in an orbit around some planet. I mean, really. Just because you have a smidge of the Ancients gene does not mean you should have been picked to take care of mess hall for this project. The only consolation I am getting out of it is that Elizabeth picked him for the expedition and she has to eat the crap he cooks, just like the rest of us. Twelve years in the Army and I'll tell you what, a person will learn to ruin anything that can be cooked. I pulled his file a long time ago....after he managed to make even a special ops hardliner like myself nearly puke. And with all due consideration to Weir, he was an ex-Army mess cook with a reasonable service record. How was she supposed to know that the Army cooks have a reputation for getting away with culinary manslaughter. Back when Steve was alive, I was sorely tempted on many occasions to use Chrysnbon as barter for intelligence on the Wraith. Providing that years of eating his own cooking didn't make him toxic to Steve's sort.

Wait, I may have just found a tool against the enemy! Army chow. Army cooks, for that matter.

Okay, what next. Ah yes..... I want to kick Cavanaugh's ass. Just wipe the floor with him. The man is begging me too. I am not going to, but I want to. Goal perceived and met. (Aren't you proud.) But I really, really want to. I am plotting to find a way to fix him but good. My father used to tell me that a man claims his victories. I prefer gorilla warfare myself. Shoot him from the bushes and leave him paranoid about where the next attack is coming from. What has that rat fucked asshole done lately? As a Major in the Air Force I am used to very literally being above it all....around 20,000 feet above it all. But I couldn't help but notice that one of the non-McKay scientists is an ex Naval servicemen and I really think the poor guy's about to bust a blood vessel in his forehead refraining from giving Cavanaugh the ass kicking he so richly deserves. Every time this poor guy walks past Cavanaugh's work area, the ass muncher starts to whistle "What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor". I am waiting for the day you get that Emergency call to Cavenaugh's office.

Not pedantic enough for you, Beckett? How about my goal to spend less time in McKay's presence as the Atlantian version of Uncle Fester. (You know, the damn Addams family member that could light a lightbulb by putting it in his mouth.) Rodney's afternoon sessions of harassing me into "touching things" is driving me nuts. I was handed one this afternoon that looked a little like a metallic bocce ball. Guess what. It was. I picked it up and got this distinct feeling that the ball was waiting for game parameters. So I gave it some...guidelines. (Yes, I am stinking evil incarnate) I gave it game parameters that were better suited to that little flying "snitch" in those Harry Potter books. Oh, and did I mention I mentally gave it a playing field slightly larger than the estimated measurements of McKay's laboratory?

The clean up alone aught a keep him busy and out of my hair for a day or two. I hope the flying bocce ball didn't break anything important and especially hard to repair that would take our resident know-it-all very long to fix. (Not!)

If he hadn't been so busy just staring at all the damage to his lab, he might have had time to notice the somewhat satisfied grin on my face as I left the scene of the crime. (Mission accomplished)

How far do I have to go yet...hmmm...Shit. I'm at around 550 words. Did you have to put a 1000 word requirement on each entry? Are all Scotsmen closet Sadists?

So onto the next issue of my week. Ford. You know, tall kid. Has a "home grown goodness" label stamped on his forehead. Total Teyla magnet. (Oh, yeah, and I saw you checkin out his ass the other day too. If I get proof, you know I will blackmail you into stopping this journal crap.)

Anyway, back to Ford. He was watching me manipulate Ancients stuff on P. Jumper-1 the other day. That kid has got to get out more. Maybe you need to smack him with the clueX4 so he will go chase some Athosian tail. Teyla's a nice gal, and Ford's a nice guy. They could be nice, you know.... together. And then I could collect on that pool I have going with SGA-2.

Shepperd signing out.

Next: Second October Entry