Things I Did Before My Stand Up Set In Iraq

A Ugandan soldier refused my entry into a DFAC building (Dining Facility Administration Facility) because I was with a group that looked suspicious to him. (Four headliners and an emcee.) We were forced to use the rear check-point.

A Government contractor secretly gave me his personal stash of baby wipes free of charge as he escorted me to the port-a-potty.

I rode in a Black Hawk helicopter and was buckled in by a Major. I undid the buckle and pretended to access my bag just so he could rebuckle me. I think he figured out what I was doing – the third time.

A General offered me a cup of Joe, which caused me to giggle and look away as I batted my eyelashes.

I referred to my vagina as an “amnesty box” in front of 400 horny and lonely soldiers. (An “Amnesty Box” is large container in front of a search checkpoint that allows individuals to discard any item of contraband - usually porn and booze; inside of it without fear of detection or arrest.)

At a Forward Operating Base I had an emotional conversation at the foot of a Stryker (anti-tank guided weapons vehicle) as the sun set, with a young soldier who quietly told me how frustrating it was to see how some Iraqi children were taught to hate them, when all they wanted to do was help.

I was punched in my Kevlar protected chest by the emcee and kinda of liked it.

I saw a Soldier with an M16 at his feet eat a sugar cereal that I wouldn’t even buy my own children, even if it was on sale 2 for the price of 1, at my local grocery store. Then I flashed on the thought that this whole war is being fought by a Lucky Charms powered Army.

At midnight I was almost yanked off my feet on a landing pad by a Colonel who proceeded to drag me in a safe direction, when I mistakenly walked towards the blade of another Black Hawk helicopter. Immediately I decided to forgive the fact that earlier at the DFAC (Dining Facility Administration Facility) that same Colonel had snuck a bite of my strawberry shortcake when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I finally figured out what to write about so I can turn off my computer, wash the dust from my amnesty box and go sleep on the top bunk bed in a drafty room in what was once Saddam's former Hunting Lodge.