<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857</id><updated>2011-08-24T21:52:54.651-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a Grouchy Supply Sergeant!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-7214505462222085150</id><published>2011-08-23T22:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:52:54.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Junior High</title><summary type='text'>I was recently reminded of how old I am and how long it has been since I was in my children’s shoes. Just last month I saw in the newspaper that my junior high school was being demolished. In the school district’s defense, the junior high was very old and it had outlasted its purpose. A few days ago, I drove by the place of my memories and there is a new school in its place. The home of my </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/7214505462222085150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/7214505462222085150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/08/junior-high.html' title='Junior High'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5913888135160639417</id><published>2011-08-23T22:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T22:19:10.831-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5913888135160639417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5913888135160639417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZLB--G_p4A/TlR7toNj3qI/AAAAAAAAAJc/AKfxqDlZ7W8/s72-c/GetAttachment.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-3763702147836565647</id><published>2011-04-16T21:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T21:25:51.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wave</title><summary type='text'>Once in a while we all do something stupid. It is inevitable. I blame my stupidity on being a parent. Honestly, I was not this absentminded before the kids. Last week we went on a trip to a remote place in Arizona that is controlled by the BLM. For the past two years I’ve tried to get permits to this place. It is difficult to see because they only let 20 people a day into this area. This year, I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3763702147836565647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3763702147836565647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/04/wave.html' title='The Wave'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-7294387612746160582</id><published>2011-04-16T21:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T21:28:15.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/7294387612746160582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/7294387612746160582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qodr0M7ISIY/TapeQZKOGOI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/fE0TiMNGVWc/s72-c/DSCN0051.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2460054612109548964</id><published>2011-03-07T20:49:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T21:36:32.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Intelligence Can Be Overrated</title><summary type='text'>In the military we have some folks that proudly carry the title MI (Military Intelligence). They do things like interpret and analyze, along with being proficient in multiple languages like Pashto, Persian-Farsi, Persian-Dari, Urdu and Swahili. These guys often have large egos, but for some reason they can’t even march or shoot a rifle. I must admit, the whole idea of intelligence in any </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2460054612109548964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2460054612109548964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/03/intelligence-can-be-overrated.html' title='Intelligence Can Be Overrated'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5635668596400644815</id><published>2011-03-07T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T20:49:28.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5635668596400644815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5635668596400644815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3t-YYp1PXDs/TXWnQJ6VXuI/AAAAAAAAAJI/hNV3su_It3c/s72-c/picture_of_a_man_getting_electrocuted.png' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6134289258162881933</id><published>2011-02-05T20:38:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T20:16:57.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boy with an Itch</title><summary type='text'>For the last six months boy #2 has been plagued with a severe rash on his little caboose. Often it created painful sores that brought the little guy to tears. The rash also caused constantly scratching. The little guy could be easily spotted in any crowd because he was always the one walking bowlegged as he’s tried to fix his itch.Mrs. Grouchy was very concerned with the rash. More importantly, I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6134289258162881933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6134289258162881933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/02/boy-with-itch.html' title='The Boy with an Itch'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-506787930971189973</id><published>2011-02-05T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T20:42:47.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/506787930971189973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/506787930971189973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/TU4YCW5iJTI/AAAAAAAAAJA/zHgG4D36H74/s72-c/P2051813.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-8606550971442377729</id><published>2010-10-07T17:46:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T21:07:20.712-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Vehicle!</title><summary type='text'>Last week Mrs. Grouchy took the MAV (Mormon Assault Vehicle) to the shop for some preventive maintenance. When the technician saw it was a Ford Windstar he informed her that our van is known as the Ford "Deathstar" among mechanics. After this enlightenment, along with the history of problems I’ve experienced, I decided to do some research on the dependability of this vehicle.It is official, our </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8606550971442377729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8606550971442377729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/10/stupid-vehicle.html' title='Stupid Vehicle!'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6399778516927765260</id><published>2010-10-07T17:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T17:12:07.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6399778516927765260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6399778516927765260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/TK5TuNmB9DI/AAAAAAAAAIs/FJyorysJleM/s72-c/Sweet+Van.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5250545356181660384</id><published>2010-10-02T22:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T00:04:40.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Clueless General</title><summary type='text'>This weekend was our annual records review for soldiers in the unit. The review is a logistical requirement that comes from Department of the Army. Therefore, we have no choice in completing the task. Annual records review consists of three basic parts: 1) soldiers sign a Statement of Accountability that simply says they have all their equipment and it’s in serviceable condition. 2) Soldiers have</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5250545356181660384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5250545356181660384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-clueless-general.html' title='One Clueless General'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5486931200010615063</id><published>2010-09-20T00:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T20:30:27.217-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Stupid Company Commander</title><summary type='text'>Today my unit had a family party at a local park and it was exceptionally good in almost every way. The ladies from Family Support worked really hard to make a wonderful event. They had a nice barbecue, a Jump-House for the kids, activities for the teens and a dessert bake-off for the wife’s. They even had a raffle with some great prizes for any willing participants. The event started off well </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5486931200010615063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5486931200010615063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/09/one-stupid-company-commander.html' title='One Stupid Company Commander'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-4029447030106144273</id><published>2010-08-19T22:00:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T10:41:05.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An Adventure I wasn't Expecting</title><summary type='text'>Today I was riding my mountain bike high up on a trail when I heard lightning behind me. I turned and noticed down in the city the sky was covered with some very dark clouds. I immediately started making my way back down the mountain. Well, I didn’t get very far when it started to sprinkle, then it started to rain, then I was in the middle of a downpour and I was being pelted with hail. At that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4029447030106144273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4029447030106144273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/adventure-i-wasnt-expecting.html' title='An Adventure I wasn&apos;t Expecting'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-4037351108855261757</id><published>2010-08-19T21:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T00:12:00.265-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4037351108855261757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4037351108855261757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post_810.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/TG4cil5yOTI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/gCJp2uBTrQ8/s72-c/Corner+Canyon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-8934319992817007589</id><published>2010-08-17T22:55:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T23:06:37.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Federal court ruling on Proposition 8 a case of judicial tyranny</title><summary type='text'>Author:  Tim Wildmon      The people of California spoke clearly at the polls in 2008 when they passed an amendment to the state Constitution that defined marriage as a union between one man and one woman. The public debate was held, the media wars were fought, both sides spent millions of dollars, and the people voted for Proposition 8 by a margin of 52 percent to 48 percent.The people's will </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8934319992817007589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8934319992817007589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/federal-court-ruling-on-proposition-8.html' title='Federal court ruling on Proposition 8 a case of judicial tyranny'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5136975364059214206</id><published>2010-08-01T08:10:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T13:17:36.752-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Happy Day</title><summary type='text'>Today is a happy day for me because I just finished a week of camping with the Boy Scouts. The event was one that I had been dreading for weeks. I liken it to seeing the dentist. It is something that you know has to be done, but you’re usually not excited to do. This year our scout troop went into a mountain area that was over 10,000 feet in elevation and spent the week fishing, hiking and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5136975364059214206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5136975364059214206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/today-is-happy-day-for-me-because-i.html' title='A Happy Day'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-5321985554623796083</id><published>2010-08-01T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T21:51:03.139-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5321985554623796083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/5321985554623796083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post_04.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/TFo02rF9E7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/_gbpHO0_8QI/s72-c/patterson_bigfoot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6966017316983683284</id><published>2010-07-25T19:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T19:33:03.383-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Two New Additions</title><summary type='text'>The Grouchy home has recently gained two new additions, “Buford” and “Socks.” Yes we now have two cats, and no they were not my idea. What happened was my sister, the cat lover, played a fast one on me by invited my kids over to her house to see her cute little kittens. Then for the next month all I heard was “Dad can we please have a kitten? “ My sister then snookered me a second time when she </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6966017316983683284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6966017316983683284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/two-new-additions.html' title='Two New Additions'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6747174605800240718</id><published>2010-07-25T13:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T20:10:21.908-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6747174605800240718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6747174605800240718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/TFoc8xZ3QHI/AAAAAAAAAGU/Am0ivRXZmuY/s72-c/P7211556.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-3256544248051852108</id><published>2010-03-30T19:43:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T22:15:58.734-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Writer's Block</title><summary type='text'>Recently, I have been suffering from writer's block. This is due to the fact that Mr. Big has been out of town and the rest of "thinking heads" (senior staff) have been occupied with upcoming deployments. Therefore, work has been surprisingly normal. I've supplied you with something that should make you smile. I discovered this story and it is worth sharing. One summer day years ago, I pulled </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3256544248051852108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3256544248051852108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/03/writers-block.html' title='Writer&apos;s Block'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2239178253014225962</id><published>2010-02-07T22:01:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T08:15:17.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Special People in Airports</title><summary type='text'>Today I had to travel across the country on TDY (temporary duty) orders so that I could attend some logistics training. I was bored much of the day, therefore, I utilized the opportunity to make a few observations of people in airports. I suspect you might have had similar observations during your travels.First, have you noticed the special people who try to get “everything but the kitchen sink” </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2239178253014225962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2239178253014225962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/02/special-people-in-airports.html' title='Special People in Airports'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-4349628735881115845</id><published>2010-02-07T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T07:27:46.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4349628735881115845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4349628735881115845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/S3_xORmDuuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/gXivm8EODa0/s72-c/fat_guy_on_moped.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6605967753233366433</id><published>2010-01-31T23:00:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T08:55:56.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Annoying Auditor</title><summary type='text'>In the military there are two groups of people that really annoy me. The first group is civilians who work for the military. I’m not taking about retired soldiers who have done their time. I’m talking about the fat slobs that have never spent a day in the military, but feel they are entitled to a military job.  These slugs often earn three to four times the amount of money I make for doing the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6605967753233366433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6605967753233366433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-annoying-auditor.html' title='One Annoying Auditor'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2663626026049188720</id><published>2010-01-20T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T23:00:12.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Clever Criminal</title><summary type='text'>We recently had a thief in the building which had many people on edge. In the military a thief is considered to be a scourge of humanity because in our environment you have to be able to trust your compatriots. If a soldier steals from you then how can you ever trust him to cover your back in battle? In the beginning, the problem started with a small heist, candy was taken from the top of a desk.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2663626026049188720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2663626026049188720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/clever-thief.html' title='A Clever Criminal'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2670934872366511139</id><published>2010-01-20T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T22:59:49.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2670934872366511139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2670934872366511139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_30.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/S2SDV6LG_MI/AAAAAAAAAFk/IO7iNZnlZ1o/s72-c/raccoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-8528005616825606601</id><published>2010-01-10T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T20:01:06.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Christmas Wish</title><summary type='text'>Mrs. Grouchy recently made a visit to Ham King’s school. During the visit she noticed his class had completed a writing assignment that was prominently displayed on the wall. The writing assignment was titled “My Christmas Wish.” For the assignment each child was asked write about a single Christmas wish that would reflect the true meaning of Christmas. Across the wall was displayed various </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8528005616825606601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8528005616825606601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/christmas-wish.html' title='A Christmas Wish'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-8734516080090015584</id><published>2010-01-10T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T19:24:27.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8734516080090015584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8734516080090015584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_10.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/S1kMNh0bAvI/AAAAAAAAAFM/rL6cvo8g7sA/s72-c/scan0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2981408696050009445</id><published>2009-12-28T19:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T20:13:04.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Christmas to Remember</title><summary type='text'>Is it just me, or has this been one strange Christmas Season. First, Pope Benedict gets tackled by a crazed lady during Christmas Eve Mass. Honestly, why would anyone do that to an 82 year old man who trying to promote peace and good will. If I was Catholic, I’d be very upset with the Vatican Guards. This lady came into their house and tried to embarrass their leader. All I’m saying is that this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2981408696050009445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2981408696050009445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/christmas-to-remember.html' title='A Christmas to Remember'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-3208244369264871535</id><published>2009-12-28T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T19:26:48.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3208244369264871535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/3208244369264871535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/Sz-LC9OKd3I/AAAAAAAAAFE/_7lFbj7v3nI/s72-c/scan0003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-2456727953720825323</id><published>2009-12-18T19:23:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T20:04:35.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skinny's Medieval Weapon</title><summary type='text'>A few days ago Skinny came to me with a request. She had been assigned another project from school and wanted my help. Skinny’s teacher is the project queen and somehow thinks these homework assignments are useful for the kids. But I beg to differ. The projects are usually constructed by me because they are beyond the building skills of my grade school student, or Mrs. Grouchy who has been known </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2456727953720825323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/2456727953720825323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/12/skinnys-medieval-weapon_18.html' title='Skinny&apos;s Medieval Weapon'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6603803726473413331</id><published>2009-12-18T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T19:28:28.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skinny's Mace</title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6603803726473413331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6603803726473413331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/12/skinnys-medieval-weapon.html' title='Skinny&apos;s Mace'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3aZwkiw83Rc/Syw48fSczRI/AAAAAAAAAD8/weD04VKMqLw/s72-c/PC181141.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-1611418591583016263</id><published>2009-12-02T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T18:19:51.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lieutenant Shawn and the Monster Poop</title><summary type='text'>A few years ago, I had the unfortunate luck of deploying with one of the worst officers in the United States Army. Honestly, I’ve owned dogs that had more common sense then 1LT Shawn exhibited. Just to prove my point, I’ll share a short story with you.One day we were tasked with loading a large shipping container with equipment that would be shipped overseas. It had to be loaded in a specific way</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/1611418591583016263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/1611418591583016263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/12/lieutenant-shawn-and-monster-poop.html' title='Lieutenant Shawn and the Monster Poop'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-4513212153427873563</id><published>2009-10-07T18:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T19:50:44.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Big and the $20 Pen</title><summary type='text'>I recently had a request from Mr. Big, actually it was through his young lackey that I received the request. The General wanted me to buy new furniture for his office. I guess he was tired of looking at the old stuff, even though it was completely serviceable and acceptable to any normal soldier in the Army. Mr. Big is an interesting guy! The first time I met him was when he came to my office and</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4513212153427873563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/4513212153427873563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/11/mr-big-and-20-pen.html' title='Mr. Big and the $20 Pen'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-8095944194669414745</id><published>2009-08-15T20:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T17:45:20.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cheap Colonel</title><summary type='text'>The Army in its infinite wisdom decided many years ago to make all commissioned officers pay for their uniforms. This is a rule that every young officer understands. Recently, I had an old colonel stop by my office and ask me when his ACU (Army Combat Uniforms) would be available for pickup. I asked him what he was talking about and he proceeded to tell me how he completed a clothing request form</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8095944194669414745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/8095944194669414745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/11/cheap-colonel.html' title='The Cheap Colonel'/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3513391338933803857.post-6674429288112346285</id><published>2009-06-01T12:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T14:10:02.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Articles of Faith of Mormon Culture1. We believe in SUVs and minivans, as the form of transportation, and in knee length shorts, which are always nice, and in multi-level marking.2. We believe that church ball players should be punished for their own fouls, and not for unsportsmanlike aggression.3. We believe that through bread crumbs, cheese, creamy soups, and rice all casseroles can be saved </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6674429288112346285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3513391338933803857/posts/default/6674429288112346285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sergeantgrouchy.blogspot.com/2009/06/articles-of-faith-of-mormon-culture-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Name: SGT. Grouchy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10063063230501236554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
