Introducing Katie Hinerman, guest blogger

I have been so blessed in this life to have true, sincere, faithful, hilarious friends.

Highschool, oh the braces!

Katie Hinerman, or as she will always be known to me - Hinerman, is one of those friends.  Even though she was one of "those" cheerleaders, and I was one of "those" (completely inept, warm the bench type) soccer players, we hit it off.  Our mutual love of sarcasm, liberal politics, mango flavored icey treats and horrible mismanagement of men creatures bonded us for life.

We both studied Public Relations.  I went to Marshall University, and Hinerman went to that other school a little more north.  While virtually ALL of our other friends were in the medical fields discussing herniated plasmastic ACL displacements or something like that, we were discussing whether the serial comma was necessary and comparing Fox and CNN's coverage of the Sago Mine disaster.  After completing college and a brief stint as a live-in nanny, Hinerman and I hatched a plan to live together across from our favorite bar in Wheeling and get jobs being kick ass young PR professionals.

Well it didn't exactly work out that way, but we lived together for about 6 months and both live to tell the tale (although it was touch-and-go with Hinerman wanting a pretty Christmas mantle with live pine and lit candles causing our whole apartment to almost go up in flames kind of way).

Now 5 years later we both have jobs we love in the public relations arena and still enjoy late night talks of how far AP style has come (website now doesn't have to be capitalized), and how far we haven't come (in that we'll still be single forever at this rate).

As Hinerman is bettering herself and being amazing at graduate school, she was tasked with interviewing a PR professional about his or her career.  As I was home that weekend for a family wedding, I  became the defunct PR professional on hand.  Over a few drinks and lots of laughs the interview was conducted, and the following is Hinerman's resulting report on me.

God, I love this girl.

Interview of a Marketing/PR Professional

By Katie Hinerman

Growing up as a ‘90s kid, Sarah Kemp wanted to be a marine biologist.  Who doesn’t love Shamu?!  And in elementary school, her favorite school supplies featured the brightly colored dolphin designs from the Lisa Frank collection.  Clearly, she was destined to work in marine biology.

However, Kemp never did learn how to swim.  And she didn’t remember to feed her pet fish.  Sadly, Rufus only survived a few weeks at home before he moved on to a better place and joined his brothers in the sea.  (Actually, he joined his brothers in the city sewage pipes.  Even so, it was still probably a better place for him, compared to being owned by Sarah.)  Kemp loved learning about ocean life, and loved the accessories that went along with it. But without basic skills in the field, she wasn’t going to make it far.  Fortunately, she also had a passion for writing, and she had the natural talent and abilities to match that passion.

An aspiring writer, Kemp headed to college at Marshall University.  She realized she didn’t want to major in English because of the limited number of jobs available to English majors, outside of teaching.  Instead, Kemp chose to study journalism.

“After shopping around the journalism school, I realized I didn’t enjoy objective writing; I preferred subjective writing,” Kemp said.  “So I ruled out a major in print or broadcast [journalism], and I chose public relations.”

Her first job in the public relations field was a marketing internship for Ernst & Young.  She quickly realized that she didn’t enjoy working in a position where she lacked a deep connection and passion for the company.

Next, she took a job as a college recruiter for her alma mater, Marshall University.  During that time, she said her commitment to succeed was fostered by a love for her school.  Nonetheless, after a couple of years working in that position, she became anxious for a new challenge.

In 2010, Kemp began her career at the USO, a non-profit organization whose mission is to support our troops.  She worked as a duty manager at the USO Center in Kandahar, Afghanistan.  At that time, she was the only staff member at the center with a marketing or public relations background.  As such, she became the unofficial social media manager.  She handled the USO Kandahar Facebook page, wrote blog posts, and worked with the USO headquarters to secure interviews with CBS News and Newsweek Magazine.  Thriving in these roles, she discovered her niche.  Unlike poor Rufus, the troops in the Middle East received great support and care from Kemp and her co-workers.

“I found my passion working to support our troops.  Serving a population that makes the greatest sacrifices and asks for the smallest rewards incites in me a passion to help them.”

Kemp continued helping our troops, even extending her contract working in Afghanistan.  When she finally returned home, she said a dismal job market awaited her.  She wanted to work in a public relations position with a military non-profit organization.  With such specific criteria, employment opportunities were especially limited.  Nonetheless, Kemp was prepared for the job hunt.  She had been utilizing her networks to reach out to contacts that could provide assistance, and she had kept her online resume updated with her published works and her personal blog.  She then invested a great deal of her time and energy in searching and applying for relevant jobs.  In one instance, she had even gone through 5 rounds of interviews before the employers made their hiring decisions; unfortunately, Kemp was not offered a position.  After 8 months of job searching with no success, she adjusted her strategy. 

“Eventually I took a temporary position just to get my foot in the door.  It took a lot of swallowing my pride to accept an entry-level temp position while possessing a degree and 5 years of experience,” said Kemp.  “Ultimately, that temporary position led to my current position which I love.”

Sarah Kemp now works as Manager of Volunteer Operations for the USO.   In her current position, she especially enjoys applying her expertise to help solve a problem or to find a way to more efficiently serve our troops.  Any time she can ease a small burden for USO staff members, they can in turn focus on providing support for the troops; and that is most important to her.

Her most rewarding days are when she is able to help multiple USO centers in multiple locations around the world.  “When I help solve a problem for a center in Germany, in Japan, in Afghanistan, and in the U.S. all in one day, I feel empowered, excited, and exhausted,” Kemp said.

While assisting multiple USO centers is one of the most rewarding aspects of Kemp’s job, it can also present some of her greatest challenges.  “With more than 160 locations in 18 time zones, and a volunteer operations department consisting of only my boss and me, it is easy to ‘fall down a rabbit hole,’” Kemp said.

In her position, she sometimes finds it difficult to complete large projects.  She often puts her work on hold multiple times a day in order to assist with questions or issues from USO centers throughout the world.  Indeed, Kemp’s greatest challenge is managing her time in the most efficient and effective way she can.

Sarah Kemp’s career is inspirational to me.  She is continuously bettering herself, and to that end, she is not afraid to make a change or to take a calculated risk.  I highly respect her both personally and professionally, and I feel motivated and excited to apply some of the lessons she learned and the advice she gave to my own career and life.

A speech for my sister on the day she weds the love of her life

My best friend in the whole world found the love of her life.  When she decided when and how she wanted to put a ring on it, (August 3rd at her fiance's family's farm, Zephaniah Vineyards) she bestowed upon me the honor of being her Maid of Honor.

I wrote a speech, but due to the apocalyptic-like conditions it was hard for most to hear me through the rain downpour and me trying to keep my s*&t together while my voice quivered and tears streamed down my face.

While Pinterest beckons me to modge podge my speech onto a hand cut wooden masterpiece with a transfer picture of Gretchen and Tremain, I can barely hang a frame, yet make one.  So, instead I just published my speech here so she can see it.

Here goes...

Gretchen sent me a journal for my 26^th birthday, and on the cover is an inscription from Confucious, it says, “words are the voice of the heart.”  Well, I hope tonight my words illuminate the crazy amount of love and admiration that I have for my sister and BROTHER.

On the inside cover of this journal Gretchen had written me a note and she had ended it with some wisdom that I would like to share with you…

She said, “Love the moment, learn the lesson.  We are all explorers on this great journey and you have found a wonderful path.”

Well copyright infringement be damned, I’m stealing your wisdom and repackaging it to you.

To you, Gretchen, I say love this moment.  It will fly by so quickly.  Tonight you are surrounded with those who consider it a privilege to know you and Tremain, who feel loved by having you utter their name.

People have come as far as our cousins up in Canada and their friends to the South the Seattle Kemps, the Floridian Kemps, Crazy cousins from Pittsburgh, South Carolina and the Wheel!!!!

And a HUGE thanks to all the Hatchs who worked so diligently and amazingly to have your wedding celebration at their home, we can't thank them enough for being our gracious hosts.

I know you’ve been crazy busy with wedding planning since the moment you were engaged all those years…I mean months...I mean days ago!  But take time to bask in the glory of this moment of knowing that this moment right now is exactly where God intended you to be.  Which leads me to the next wisdom you left me: learn the lesson.

I say you’ve learned the lesson, my God have you learned the lesson.  With every misstep, with every regret, with every failed attempt, it has led to you to your one true love. 

While you were broken out in hives in a third world country you learned the lesson that cashew shells are poisonous.  Or when you dyed your hair with peroxide you learned fun is temporary, but bleach’s embarrassment takes FOREVER to grow out.  Or when you left your curse word laden angsty female rock cassette tape in the Ford Escort when dad needed to borrow the car…that lesson was a particularly amusing one to me.

The fantastic thing about ALL these lessons that YOU have learned, is that I didn’t have to!  You made the mistakes for me! You blazed a trail for me, either by teaching me these things, or by wearing out our poor parents so much that they were just too exhausted to care by the time I came around.

I have learned so much from watching you grow.  I only wish I could somehow go back and help you through the awkward phases, heartbreaks, and dilemmas that you helped me through.  You not only inspired me, but continue to inspire me every day.

I am also inspired by the beautiful example of love I’ve been blessed to see every day in our parents. They set this amazingly high standard for what a good relationship looks like that it took A LONG WHILE for Gretchen to find a relationship to live up to it.  But let’s face it, my parents are getting OLDER, so now I get to have a brand NEW example of what great selfless love looks like in Gretchen and Tremain. 

In closing, I say to you, my best friend: love the moment, you’ve learned the lesson. We are all explorers on this great journey and you my darling sister, have found a wonderful man to walk by your side.”  To the bride and groom!

Behind the headlines

This is the story: Audacious Raid on NATO Base Shows Taliban's Reach

This is my story...

I received a Facebook message from Randy (one of my best friends who started working for the USO the same day I did, and worked in Kuwait, Kandahar with me, and then Camp Leatherneck)

"As i walk up to the uso so does he and the big voice comes on for opp lockdown. bastion is currently under attack. we can see the helicopters firing. there are big fires on that side of base that we can see glowing. nuts. not like kaf. they just called all off duty fire fighters to their stations."

At this point a Google search turns up nothing.  The world doesn't know yet.  But I do.  I know my friend's base is getting attacked, and she is there, with only one other USO staffer, locked in a tent, unarmed.

Everything else quickly becomes fuzz.  Everyone's updates featuring pictures of the food they made, and the people they saw are insignificant blips.  They keep updating, they keep popping up, unaware of the attack raging half a world away.

Randy's message was sent to our close group of former and current USO girls from KAF.  The conversation right before Randy's message was laughing at one friend's drunken Facebook ramblings about another friend's relationship.

"update. there are people in the wire in uniform - taliban members. everyone is to report to accomodations and stay inside. small arms fire and cobras firing rounds. fires have subsided. Marines have started filing to their vehicles in full gear."

News outlets begin updating their sites with brief 3 paragraph long stories about the attack.

Then her messages stop. 

We're all familiar why.  It's a blackout.  To my understanding with 30,000 plus people KAF never had ordered blackouts because they would be too difficult to enforce, but at smaller bases when there are deaths they order a blackout.  They want to ensure there is time to inform the next of kin before someone posts it on Facebook.  I couldn't think of a worse way to find out about the death of a loved one than Facebook, but it happens.  I experienced my first black out at Camp Marmal in Mazar-e-Sharif in northern Afghanistan.  A Captain came quickly pacing into our USO tent, asked for the manager and then quietly, but with forceful seriousness, told me to disconnect the internet and phones until further notice.

One night has passed since Randy's first message and I'm sitting between my parents in my dad's truck on a 4 hour trip to my aunt's house checking my Facebook, USAToday, FoxNews, and Yahoo News every 10 minutes. 

We joke in our Facebook messages to each other to lighten the mood, only our jokes wouldn't be funny to most.  Randy was supposed to travel back to the states in a few days, and Erin lives in Dubai.  We discuss forming new identities for them since the Middle East isn't exactly keen on Americans at that moment.  These two blonde beauties, could they be French?  South African maybe?  We all laugh thinking about Randy with a head scarf and her trademark leggings on.

I talk to Randy's mom for a half an hour that night trying to reassure her.  There's a lot we don't tell our parents while in Afghanistan, but it's a little hard to hide when it's all over the news.  I feel for her mom.  Being on this side of the globe now, I get how my family must have felt. Although, I'm not sure if I'm worried more or less having been there.

The attack had ceased, Randy and her coworker were fine, and her flight was rebooked.

"oh how i am thrilled that you girls are home safe and sound. however it would be nice to have some friends to be in lockdown with"

Randy returned to America safely a few days later...and Erin flew into Camp Leatherneck.

I've never been in a battle, so I can not even begin to comprehend the bond troops have when their lives are in one another's hands.  But when you have your face in the dirt right next to a girl after feeling the ground shake beneath you from an incoming rocket, it forms a special bond. (That was during Megan's going away party, the Taliban sure know how to send us off with a bang).

We all met in Kandahar, Afghanistan.  Now we're in Colorado, DC, PA, WV, Dubai (with trips to Afghanistan), and NC but soon to be England.  We're spread across the country and spread across continents, but at a moment's notice we can all be there for one another.

Most of the headlines  wrote about Prince Harry's safety or questioning the drawdown tactics.  Prince Harry wasn't my concern, Randy was.  Thankfully she was fine, because of the bravery and sacrifice of the military men and women defending the base.

United States Marines Lt. Col. Christopher Raible, 40, and Sgt. Bradley Atwell, 27, were killed in the attack on Camp Leatherneck on September 15, 2012.

Fool me 15 times

Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.

Fool me 15 times… how did I not get the bloody hint?!

Since I started job searching I have applied for 15 jobs I thought were perfect for me!  I had the experience.  I tailored my resume to each one, and I wrote a cover letter even if it wasn’t required.  Before my interviews I scoured their website learning everything I could about their company and the department in which I would work.  I borderline stalked their employees on LinkedIn and Facebook.  I phoned a friend and called in my connections.  I dressed nicely and didn’t wear any of my rings during the interview (I have a nervous tick where I CONSTANTLY switch my rings from finger to finger or twist them).  I kept my sarcasm to a minimum and my charm to a maximum.  Yet, I am unemployed (and ironically don’t qualify for unemployment, my bad for quitting my own contract).  What am I doing wrong?

I even made an organized job search binder with color coded tabs!

I am applying at the same companies (multiple positions) for the same types of jobs – military non-profit.  This is my passion, my dream job…right?  Question is: when does it stop becoming admirable and start becoming ignorant? 

At first I thought I was resolute and determined for unwaveringly applying for the same types of jobs.  But repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result is the very definition of insanity according to Einstein.

When I was in college I dated (I use the term very loosely) a boy who I was enamored by.  I thought everything was going lovely even though he wouldn’t ever admit we were dating.  (I know in hindsight this sounds really stupid on my part, but wait, save that judgment for about 3 more sentences).  Well then after months went by I finally rid myself of him by moving 3 states away and severing all contact.  I’ve always been rather dramatic I guess.  Well 2 years and 2 cities later I ended up back where it all began, back with…yep, him.  Ol’ Einstein was right, this situation produced the same result.  Only this time I totally outdid myself on the move and moved a couple continents and oceans away.

I guess I’m just an optimist…to a fault.  Nah, that’s an easy out, blaming it on a character flaw.  I think the real issue is I find something I enjoy, and I get comfortable.  And who wants to leave that comfy spot on the couch you just nestled yourself into that’s already warmed by your butt?

I just thought it would be easier than this.

I remember I attended a TEC retreat (Teens Encounter Christ) and I was on this great “yay God!” high from a weekend of fun faith filled activities.  Our leader warned us that although we felt changed by the weekend, the world had not changed.  We were in a protected bubble and the real world was a harsh reality that would smack us in the face. 

I’ve left my protected bubble of Afghanistan, and now I’m smack dab in the real world armed with experience, a degree, and a waning sense of confidence.

I am confident in one thing though; I’m not insane.  So, it’s time to do something different.

pretty brilliant dude

Boomerang Kid, not as fun as it sounds

I am a boomerang kid.  It sounds fun and playful; it is not.  One simple google search immediately confirms the suspicions, this is not a positive word... this is failure. 

Foreshadow: me learning to throw a boomerang in February

A boomerang kid is defined as a young adult who lives with his or her parents after a period of living away from home. Of the 5.4 million search results, three of them on the first page include, "Parents How to Kick Your Kid Out of the Nest," "Don't Let Boomerang Kids Derail Your Goals," and "Five Survival Tips for Parents of Boomerang Kids."  This doesn't sound like a sweet homecoming, but instead a disease ridden pest that needs to be eradicated from your house.

Now of course my parents have NOT made me feel even an inkling of being an unwanted insect.  They welcomed me home with open arms.  Problem is, I don't want to be a boomerang kid.

I lived in a warzone!  I traveled the world!  I spent time in a mud hut in Uganda and managed a travel debacle involving a bus in Dubai.  I got this independence thing pretty down pat...but now I need my mommy.

I wrote about my plan on this blog.  I had it all figured out.  In March I decided to leave Afghanistan in June, and I would spend a month or two traveling to see friends and family; then settle into a new job supporting our troops stateside.  Then reality hit me like a 2 ton brick.  While still in Afghanistan I applied for a job I thought was perfect for me!  I would help wounded warriors go to college.   I mean who else would have the unique work experience of being a college recruiter for 2 years, and work with wounded warriors in a warzone?  Well, apparently someone else did that, or better.  I didn't get the job.  I imposed a 24 hour grief period, then moved on.  I was still excited to go home and start a new adventure! 

Shortly before returning home I applied for another position that involved traveling and supporting our troops.  Again I naively thought, I got this.  Only 5 interviews later I figured out someone else had nearly the same experience as me and was a better fit.  That pity party lasted a wee bit longer. 

So those two jobs weren't for me.  But what is?  I was so sure I knew what I wanted.  I was so sure I set myself up to have the degree, the experience, the attitude to get what I wanted.

I even tried volunteering for a local troop organization and was told they don't take volunteers.  I can't even do the work I love for free?  What?!?!

I've been home nearly 2 months and this is my first post.  It's hard to write a blogworthy life, when I'm sitting on my parents' couch watching Gilmore Girls reruns.  I have 3 gorilla boxes stacked in my room, untouched, because unpacking them means I live here. 

I chose this.  It's not some crazy set of circumstances I've been blindly plunged into.  I chose to leave.  A friend from college asked me the other day what was the hardest thing about being in Afghanistan.  I contemplated answering the heat, the rockets, the living situation, but all of that was manageable.  My response, "leaving." 

I don't want to go back.  I want to go forward.  I just gotta figure out how.

Goodbye Afghanistan.

Shortly before I departed for Kandahar, my friend Lindsey gave me a bracelet that says, “LIVE THE LIFE YOU IMAGINE.”

Well I never could have imagined this!

I’ve ridden in a MRAP through an obstacle course.

I’ve taken a tour of an A-10.

I’ve flown in the cockpit of a C-130 three times.

I’ve flown in a Black Hawk to COPs and FOBs in Kandahar province.

I’ve taken a tour of a medical rescue helicopter and watched the ParaRescue Jumpers respond to a call.

I’ve spent a night in the control tower watching all the flights land and take off.

I’ve tried on an EOD suit.

I’ve played with military bomb sniffing and attack dogs.

I’ve heard the eerie whistle as a rocket flies overhead moments before impact.

I’ve felt the earth quake under my feet as an incoming rocket has exploded.

I’ve shared a room with 4 other grown women.

I’ve shared a bathroom with 35 of them.

I’ve eaten goat in Africa and a baby squid in Greece.  Eww!

I’ve visited 5 continents.

I’ve snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef.

I’ve seen the Caribbean, Uganda, Germany, Ireland, Australia, Greece and Italy.

I’ve made life long friends, and met others I’d rather forget.

I’ve been yelled at by a Sergeant Major, praised by a Lieutenant Colonel, and laughed at by a Brigadier General.

I’ve watched ACUs turn to Multi-Cam.

I’ve seen 3/2 SCR change to Lightning Strawberries and then into the giant Indian patch guys.

I’ve learned greetings in Dari, Pashto, Romanian, Bulgarian, and Slovakian.

I’ve seen an entire unit deploy to Afghanistan TWICE! – the Route Clearance Seahorses.

I’ve ran a marathon.

I’ve felt the pain of loss.

I’ve seen the joy of a proud father at his child’s birth.

I’ve held grown men as they cry.

I’ve rejoiced with grown men as they cheer.

I’ve witnessed a soldier be awarded a Purple Heart while in the hospital.

I’ve seen a soldier wince in pain at the shrapnel still in his side.

I’ve seen a soldier draped in a flag for his final flight home.

I’ve felt deeper sadness and joy than I had ever known possible.

I truly lived.

I gave 20 months to the brave men and women who give us their careers, family, and sometimes even their lives.  I thought it would be a great sacrifice, but instead it’s been a great adventure. 

To every family member, friend, and OLP parishioner, thank you for your undying support that gave me the strength to support our troops.

And to every USO staffer, USO volunteer, SF, MARSOC, SEAL, PJ, Coast Guardsman, Sailor, Airman, Marine, and Soldier, thank you for sharing your experience with me.

To my coworkers who became friends, and to those friends who became my desert family, I could not have made it through without you.  You were my rock, my sanity, and my overwhelming joy.

My sister Gretchen wrote me an e-mail recently in which she said, “Trust me, it all works out if you have the courage to let go.”

As a college recruiter I’ve heard countless mothers talk about the strength it takes to let go of their babies and not feel the guilt of abandonment as they trust they’ll be okay without them.  I feel the same way about our troops.

I know I have made a difference in others’ lives just as they have touched mine, and in that way a piece of me will always be in Afghanistan.

So here’s to a new adventure!

New change, can’t wait! – Daren Hidalgo in his final letter to me. 

I want a Jeep.

I want a Jeep.

Specifically a 2012 Black Forest Green Pearl Wrangler Sahara 6 Speed Manual with Dual Top (Freedom Top and Sunrider).

The open woods, the Jeep, the gorgeous dog, who wouldn't want this life?!

Now I don’t know how to drive a stick, but I figure our Toyota Surf SUV is so old and decrepit you have to drive it with 2 feet easing off the brake, but not fully because you have to rev the gas so as to not peel out or stall, that I basically know how to drive a stick anyway.  Come to think of it, I should just buy a Toyota Surf, everyone has one of them out here, and they’re all at least 10 years old, yet still find a way to run.

But how could I resist a vehicle with slogans like this:

“Rugged yet refined, authentic to the core,” yeah that’s me!

“Go anywhere, do anything,” I want to!

It’s the “Face of Freedom” for God’s sake!

Now Jeeps don’t have the best gas mileage, and with the rate of gas prices it seems silly, or even downright illogical to not purchase a fuel efficient car, or heck at least a hybrid SUV.  But I want one real bad!  I feel like in a Jeep I can go rock climbing, or schlep my mountain bike, or throw my hiking stuff in the back.  Yes, it’s true my sister can do all of this, and does almost every weekend, in her Hyndai Sonata. 

But the Jeep, the Jeep, would announce to the world that I do it!  The Jeep would make me want to live the life it so boldly declares I do.  If the highlight of my weekend instead of taking a trip to a cabin off the beaten path in the woods is driving to Target while stopping for some Chic-Fil-A on the way, the Jeep will mercilessly mock me with every gear shift, 

POSER.

LAZY.

WASTEFUL.

(And not in the Anthony Hopkins sweet whisper in Meet Joe Black kind of way, but in the grating, stop you in your tracks, Janice from Friends voice kind of way).

I currently own a Ford Escape with a No Boundaries package that just happened to come on it when I (k, maybe my parents) purchased it used.  The No Boundaries package included a bike rack that flipped down off the top.  It announced to the world, "This ain’t your soccer mom’s SUV, THIS is a young, hip, outdoorsy person’s SUV."  Only, I didn’t even own a bike.  My sister relentlessly pestered me about how my car better fit her, and why didn’t I have a bike.  I was actually relieved when a tree branch in heavy snow fell on the roof creating a large dent in the bike rack rendering it useless.  That is until, about a year later I actually decided to do something about my lack of life and bought a mountain bike.

So you see, now I have a bike!  And I went rock climbing on real rock more than once!  (Okay so just twice, but I was really starting to get into it before I moved).  And I've zip lined, and hiked! 

This picture says to the world, I belong in a Jeep!

Hmmmm…there lies the conumdrum…purchase the SUV that says I live an outdoorsy life, or actually live the outdoorsy life in whatever car I have. 

Well here’s my solution: the Jeep will be like all those brand spanking new beautiful workout clothes I bought when I decided I wanted to get in shape.  Like my favorite Kelly green Nike v-neck, or bright blue with neon green stripe Adidas shorts.  I could workout in an old t-shirt sure.  But would that old t-shirt silently mock me every time I opened my overflowing closet shouting,  "WHY HAVE YOU NEVER USED ME FOR MY INTENDED PURPOSE YOU LAZY ASS?!  GO TO THE GYM!"  No, that old t-shirt would say, I'm so comfy, just wear me, and lounge around, I look so much better paired with slipper socks over tennis shoes any day. So the clothes inspire me, just like the Jeep will.

Only problem is, that Jeep is one very expensive workout shirt.