Christmas Brannigan

I went on a “christmas brannigan”. Now probably most of you have no fucking idea what I’m talking about here. Back when I was in college my good buddy Dave Miller and I used to get wastoid fairly frequently. We one time heard about this thing called a ‘brannigan’ and it stuck with us. A Brannigan is an irish term used to explain a total drunken rampage. Like when you get so fucked up that you are smashing furniture and getting into fistfights and screaming poetry at the moon and stuff like that. We used to laugh about it because there must have been some dude, like us, who back in the day got so wasted that he went on these rampages and got the fucking thing named after him. Of course the fucking dude was Irish. We would totally like to hang out with this Brannigan dude and go on a ‘brannigan’ with him. So, for years I was never sure that the term was legit, like I knew what it meant and it had meaning to me but I didn’t know conclusively wheter it was an expression that other people use. I asked Lorcan about a week ago if people in Ireland know and use the expression and he said they do. So recently, after finally discovering the veracity of the word, I went on my own Brannigan. It was almost as if just to prove I still could. It took me totally by surprise. I went on a christmas brannigan.

You know.. things were going pretty good for me on Christmas. I mean, yeah I’m totally stuck over here in a lonely shithole and it sucks, but my day was going pretty good. I got up early and did my Saturday work-out (squats, lunges, and abs) went out into the city and did our shit work then had a nice dinner with the guys at the now infamous ‘chow hall of the damned’. After dinner though, after dinner…

So on the drive back from dinner we were talking about how the kitchen at our camp was serving red wine with dinner. We didn’t eat at our chow hall because the food usually sucks but we did unanimously agree to grab a bottle of the red red vino and have a private toast back in our tent. So that’s what we did.. We walked into the place, everybody looked up at us as we entered, we each grabbed a bottle of wine, turned around and walked out. Sat down back in the privacy of our tent and talked over a few glasses of wine. It was a really good time, we each bitched and whined and talked about home and what we were gonna do when we get out of here. Then somehow, from outer space, from another fucking dimension, from some fucking parallel universe we all completely lost our minds.

I can’t remember too much. This is the first time I’ve even touched alcohol in the country of Iraq since I’ve been here this time. I broke my rule on just this special occasion and it came back and totally bit me in the ass. One minute I was all mellow and introspective and enjoying a good wine buzz.. a good head change.. and the next minute Dr Jeckell transformed into Mr Hyde and I went fucking berzerk.

I’m not gonna sit here and try and explain everything as it happened and the reasons behind why certain things were done. One reason is that my swiss cheese memory can’t bring it all back, but the main reason is that there was no cause and effect that followed any logical progression. Things were done, things were said, and for the life of me I have absolutely no explanation for any of it. So what I will do is just list the stuff I can remember or that 2 or more people have told me about (which is as close to proving it happened as we’re gonna get here). So without further bullshit heres the list.

My Christmas Brannigan List 5150:

- Everybody spilling wine and baileys all over the fucking floor around my bed (where the party was taking place)

- singing and playing guitar FULL POWER

- Dean biting the heads off stolen dough dolls from the chow hall (they were like made as decoration or some shit)

- I was smashing chairs on the ground then throwing them around

- Josh and I bounced on a bed until it crushed

- Lance and Dean (both native New Zealanders) taught us how to do the “HAKA” (I don’t know how to spell it but that’s how the name sounds) and we did it.. in retrospect this was probably the funniest part of the night. The HAKA is some kind of Maori war dance. They did this shit before battles and stuff back in prehistoric times. It basically consists of spreading your legs real wide then stomping and punching your thighs and chest in unison with this like rhythmic jamookian language war chant. Oh yeah, you also stick your tongue out all the way like a total maniac. So just imagine, if you dare, 6 drunken assholes doing this prehistoric Maori war dance in a tent in Iraq. If you’ve ever seen that movie ‘once were warriors’ they do it some in there. According to legend (or at least what these guys are telling me) these Maori motherfuckers did this Haka war dance and beat down a bunch of British dudes back in the old Imperialism days. They still do it before rugby matches and shit. Fact or fiction, who really cares. We did the fucking Haka.

- I started throwing the empty wine bottles around one of which accidentally smashed an alarm clock

- guys were taking straight hits from a bottle of whiskey, I may or may not have been one of these people

- Josh and I pounded another bottle of wine between us straight to our heads

- Lance tried to piss and shit in Dean’s bed

- Dean and Lance took their shirts off and did some more Haka

- Steve made me write a song about the gun he gave his wife “custom, left handed, pearl handled, .45, 1911″ thats about all I can remember from the song.

- I turned into “that guy” and started hugging everybody in fucking sight.

At one point, or so I’ve been told, Jason came in and I had just finished smashing a coffeemaker to bits and he was like ‘dude, its time to go to bed.’ So I was telling everyone to go to bed and Josh says ‘hey, look at that’ and points to the projector that somehow got turned on and was beaming up into the corner of the circus tent. Then out of nowhere I grab a chair and huck it up in the air. Then in like slow-motion Josh sees that it’s gonna land on the projector and does this diving block with his hand.

- Josh and I screamed “BOO-LAY” about 1 million times. We had recently watched the dvd of Will Ferrel on the Conan O’Brian show when he appeared in character as Robert Goolay. So when braindead apes like us see funny shit we end up repeating the fuck out of it until everyone is completely sick of hearing us. We had been saying ‘goolay’ and ‘lavender’ and other parts of the act a shit ton but when Josh fucked up one time and accidentally said “BOO-LAY” (an apparent combination of ‘boo-yah’ and ‘goolay’ – I mean easy mistake, anybody could have done it) well somehow we thought that was the coolest thing since peanut butter pancakes. I think we also re-enacted the entire skit but instead of just saying the lines we screamed them.

- somehow a polish hand grenade got added into the mix and everyone was playing with it until I think I freaked out and told them to get rid of it. I found it in my guitar case this morning with a chewed up head from one of those dough puppets I was telling you about.

- Dean gets carried in by three dudes that I don’t know. I think he passed out on the shitter.

- The S.W.A.T. cops in the tent next to us came in to complain and tell us to shut the fuck up

- I’m told I was making beast-like grunt noises and freaking people out

- At this point several phone calls and emails were made. Everyone essentailly abandoning the cardinal rule of “NEVER DIAL DRUNK!”

So I’m sure there is a bunch of other stuff I could tell you about but you get the idea…

brannigan… I sure would like to have met that dude.

Goolay “Its good to be back on top again Johnny.”

Conan “Oh..umm..”

Goolay “I don’t mean me.”

So all day today we’ve been recounting our exploits from the night before and laughing a lot. Myself and 2 other dudes had to run over to the cargo area of the BIAP to pick up some vehicles. One of these had a flat tire so we sat there unattended in the cargo terminal changing it out.. well you know how things go, before you know it we had the backs of the vehicles stuffed with body armor plates and weight belts that we “aquired” for the whole team out of what looked like abandoned piles of gear. I was able to give Noah and Matt a set of ballistic plates for Christmas after all.

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