I feel your pain. I can go a full work week on my ship humping ammo cans up and down 20 ft high ladder wells and trunks, 3 gun shoots as a line coach, and eating God awful galley food no problem. I come home and in 20 minutes I've rolled an ankle, tore a muscle in my back, and sliced my hand open while unpacking kitchen supplies from my recent PCS. The real world sucks.

"He's spent years training, survived a combat tour unharmed, and you want to trust an outside party to take him down?" "I'm quite confident she's the woman for the job. She… has incentives of her own." "What the fuck does that even mean?" "She's his /mother in law/."