Today marks the 250^th anniversary of the founding of the United States Marine Corps. I got my start in sports covering the Marine Corps Boxing championships back when I served in the Navy Signal Corps. There was nothing quite like watching those thick-necked jarheads beat the bejeezus out of each other.

I wasn’t insane, so I didn’t join the Marines. But any sort of sea duty in the Navy means being around those crazy bastards. As they will be the first to tell you, the Marines believe the Navy exists only to take them to wherever the war is.

That’s only one reason why the Navy and the Marine Corps are joined at the hip, but it certainly shows why being in either branch can mean getting time at sea. That’s why I thought since those jarheads are celebrating their 250^th “birthday,” I thought this would be a great time to share some tips on how to re-create what was likely a big part of life for any Marines you may have in your life. With these six simple points, you can build a reasonable of life on board a Navy ship.

I. Supplies

A. Clothing/Gear

• Actual military uniforms are not necessary. Any work-type clothing will do, so long as it is ill-fitting and kept unreasonably clean.
• Have two “uniforms;” one for everyday wear and a “dress” uniform.
• Get a gas mask and a plastic tarp to serve as your chemical protective gear.
• Have a chemical attack drill once per week. Scramble to put on the “chemical gear” in under 30 seconds, then leave it on for four hours.
• Buy 50 cases of rolled cardboard which will be your toilet paper.

B. Food

• All produce should be in that “week-old” phase right before it rots.
• Buy all bread and bakery goods at the “day-old” store, then wait a minimum of five days before consuming them.
• Fresh eggs and dairy products can only be used during the first two days. Then only the powdered/shelf-stabilized versions are allowed.
• All food should be marginally edible, but available in gargantuan amounts.
• Coffee should be brewed at a strength which can dissolve your fillings.

II. Environment

A. The “Ship”

• Remove all plants, pictures, and decorations from your house.
• Nail plywood into all your doorways to give them a maximum clearance of four and a half feet.
• Paint everything (and that means everything) gray or white.
• Paint over all your windows so you are only able to see through an area the size of a basketball.
• Replace all your furniture with some sort of all-metal version. Worn patio furniture is perfect.

B. Communication

• Unplug all radios, televisions, and disable your internet connection. All smart phones must be in “airplane” mode.
• The only allowed means of communication with friends and family is letters held by your neighbors for a minimum of three weeks or a weekly four-minute phone call which must happen at 2:30 a.m. for one of the parties involved.
• Like the mail, all reading material must be magazines or newspapers at least three weeks old. The alternative is manuals for military equipment at least 30 years out of date (owner’s manuals from stuff you don’t own anymore will substitute nicely).

C. The Bunk

• Replace your mattress with one of those uncomfortably thin futon types.
• Enclose three sides of your bed with plywood, then add a roof that prevents sitting in any position (30 inches is ideal).
• Alter your bed so it has uneven legs to guarantee you will be tossed about while trying to sleep.
• Keep a bag of dirty socks in close proximity to simulate the smell of your bunkmates.
• Keep the bedroom thermostat at 43 degrees and use only one Kleenex-thin blanket.

D. The Shower

• Pretend to stand in line for at least 20 minutes before showering.
• Even after being cleaned, fungus must be present on the floor. The addition of something sticky is a pro-level hack.
• Rapidly alternate the water temperature between “Ice Station Zebra” and “Straight From the Nuclear Reactor’s Core.”
• Taping unpopped popcorn kernels to the soles of your feet simulates the plantar warts you will get from not wearing shower shoes.

E. The “Head”

• Replace your toilet seat with one made of steel.
• Keep all but two rolls of the rolled cardboard/toilet paper locked up, and make sure one of them is always wet.
• Lock the bathroom door twice everyday for a four hours to simulate cleaning, but only actually clean it once a week.
• Do not flush the toilet for the first five days to simulate the aroma of forty people using the same facilities. After that, only flush once per day.
• At least once a month (before the daily flush), force the toilet to overflow.

III. Personal Appearance

• Hit your forehead or shins with a hammer every two days to simulate collisions incurred in passageways, through hatches, or against stanchions and bulkheads.
• Cut your own hair weekly without using a mirror. Continue doing this until you are bald or look like you tangled with a barber-school drop-out with cerebral palsy.
• Only wear your “uniforms” from Step I. Once each week, clean and press your dress uniform and wear it for an hour.

IV. Shipboard Life

A. Duties

• Put yourself on an 18-hour work cycle and only ever sleep for four hours at a time so your body no longer knows or cares if it is day or night.
• Stack all your regular furniture in one room so that it is completely unusable. Once a month, move all the furniture into another room. Move it all back the next day.
• Once per month, regardless of need, re-paint everything in your house.
• Monitor all home appliances hourly, recording all vital information, such as “Plugged in,” or “Lights come on when doors open.” If something has not been used recently, cover it with “DANGER!”
• Twice a day, simulate watch duty by standing on your roof for a four-hour period. Only one of these can be when the bathroom is locked.
• Have a weekly emergency drill. Do this by climbing onto your roof wearing a life jacket, firing a flare gun, and shouting instructions through a bullhorn.

B. Off Time

• Set your alarm clock to go off at random intervals (no longer than 30 minutes) to simulate the various times watch standers and night crew bump around and wake you up. If possible, make use of a custom clock that randomly simulates fire alarms, police sirens, and obnoxious music. If you want to pretend you are on an aircraft carrier, use the sound of a jet engine.
• Have a playlist that only contains 25 songs. Listen to them them repeatedly until they they cause acute nausea.
• Write at least two letters you throw away for every one you actually send.
• Study the owner’s manuals for all your household appliances. Regularly take one apart and put it back together. Do this for absolutely no reason.
• Shut off the power periodically at the main circuit breaker and run around shouting “Fire! Fire! Fire!” Do this until you lose your voice, then restore power.

V. Meals

• Prepare all meals blindfolded, using only the spices you can grope for, or none at all.
• Use only one eating utensil, which is a giant spoon that holds a minimum of 1/2 cup.
• Eat all meals in less than four minutes.

VI. Liberty

• Go to the worst neighborhood in the city wearing your best clothes.
• Enter the sleaziest looking bar you can find and ask for the most expensive imported beer they carry. Drink as many as you can in four hours.
• Take a cab home using the longest possible route, because the driver assumes from your clothes you’re an easy mark. Pro tip: get a driver who does not speak the same language you do.
• Three days after liberty, smear your genitals with Tabasco sauce to simulate venereal disease.

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