MEPS And the Military... I'm In.

So, after two excrutiatingly long days, I'm finally home.

Left for San Jose, CA Tuesday at noon, got to MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) around 3 o'clock.

Then, I got to take a 3 hour long test called the ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) test. That was stupidly irritating. I really don't understand the point of that damned test. The english part was easy, the math part reminded me of 8th grade, and the other parts had to do with computers, mechanical systems and schematics, and some part where you had to follow instructions on connecting various pieces labeled with letters... in your head.

Like, it had a box with random shapes and lines, each had a letter in a certain spot. You had to figure out what it would look like put together, and select the answer that matched the end result. It was frustrating as all hell.

Once that was done (I got a 67 out of 99...by the by) I got to wait another 2 hours with my recruit mates for the shuttle to our hotel.

Mind you, the hotel was nice, and my room mate was... strange to say the least. The food was decent. (Definitely not the best burger I've ever had in my life)

Anywho, had to be in bed by 10, then up at 3 AM. Yep, you heard me. Three in the fucking morning.

So, got up, ate nasty eggs and under-toasted toast, then got on the bus with the rest of the recruits back to MEPS for our medical processing.

This lovely part consisted of an Audio/Hearing Test, Sight/Depth Perception Test, blood testing (for HIV), urine testing (for drugs), a breathalyzer test, and a full physical.

Yep, got my lady parts poked and prodded as well.

At the end of the physical you get your height and weight (duh), and I just about had a nervous breakdown.

So, we all know I'm not in the best shape ever, and I found out I'm 10 lbs over the weight limit. (No, I won't tell you how much I weigh.)

They left me in the physician's room so they could go eat lunch. Assholes. I sat there for 20 minutes, stripped to my undergarments, and freezing. They were going to take my measurements and figure out my body fat percentage. (Had to be under 36% or I'd be disqualified.)

I cried. This Navy thing was the first time my dad EVER really said he was proud of me...(and meant it) I freaked out because, hell, if I didn't make it... what would he say? Was I just going to be the failure he'd always knew I was? Would he bring out his famous, "Have fun working at McDonald's." line?

However, this story has a, decently happy ending. I ended up being 33% body fat, which means I need to drop 10 lbs before my ship date... on March 22nd.

I'm leaving early, y'all. Wish me luck.