So here it is: A Reverse Scavenger Hunt. That's right people! I said it.
I will take the first ten (10!) submissions of items/objects from readers, that is supposing that there are in fact ten (10!) of you out there. You can post the item/objects you would like found/acknowledged in the comments (please count off as you post, I intend for this to be a challenge for all involved) and I will do my best to find or observe them in their natural habitat and get your either a photo, text message-photo or an awesome description peppered with my own special blend of idiocy.
As the items get knocked off they will be crossed off the list and shown here in some form of image capture.
So be realistic. Please. A hooker eating a real Philly hoagie while jamming it up on a pogo stick may be the best site ever seen it isn't always that easy to come by while hanging off the back of a truck.
This shit is free form and I am open to suggestions.
Now fuck right off. I intend to so the same.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
SHOUT OUT!
My days are made so much better by these, you would think that they are unnecessary but when its laundry day and you are stuck with these the difference is clear and a lot less chaffed.
And now more recently my days are made brighter by these, GOD DAMN! THESE ARE THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD! It has been along time since eating something has made me smile when I am all alone. Not cheap mind you.
And now more recently my days are made brighter by these, GOD DAMN! THESE ARE THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD! It has been along time since eating something has made me smile when I am all alone. Not cheap mind you.
Trapped in the closet
Today, one of the highlights, other than the phone ringing several times at 4:30am saying they need me at 5:30am instead of the route I was previously assigned to which started at 9:00am was being three stops from finishing the newly assigned route under slept and under enthused and being hit with the sudden and very very very urget urge to pee. Now I don't know about ya'll but when I have to go (ahem! small bladder syndrome is the not the ideal condition for this job) there is little else I can think about, let alone do. So, being the slow moving quick thinker that I am I dig through the recycle can and look for a container of which no one has ever put their mouth to, preferably one with a wide mouth that requires very little aim precision because at this point I am shaking. Salvation turns out to be an old parmesean cheese shake 'em jar. I locked my self in the janitors closet, removed the nasty ass gloves and removed the issue my body was having with my brain. Feeling proud like never before I slink out of the closet cursing the metaphor with the warm jar tucked under my arm getting warmer.
There was a time a few weeks ago when I had to pee so bad, very similar situation as above but this time I was inside a nice building that was built shortly after the earth quake (huge wood plank floors), when I went searching for my urinal aide I was thinking jar, juice bottle, plastic bag.... what I found was a blender. Using the plastic carafe, hiding in the dark corner of this classic building the feeling of pride mixed with elation was quickly "pissed on" by the sudden and disturbing discovery that the carafe was being tossed out for a reason, it no longer held liquid. Thankfully there is much worse to touch my boots than my own urine. Now all I need is for Madonna to drink it in the shower.
There was a time a few weeks ago when I had to pee so bad, very similar situation as above but this time I was inside a nice building that was built shortly after the earth quake (huge wood plank floors), when I went searching for my urinal aide I was thinking jar, juice bottle, plastic bag.... what I found was a blender. Using the plastic carafe, hiding in the dark corner of this classic building the feeling of pride mixed with elation was quickly "pissed on" by the sudden and disturbing discovery that the carafe was being tossed out for a reason, it no longer held liquid. Thankfully there is much worse to touch my boots than my own urine. Now all I need is for Madonna to drink it in the shower.
THE HORRAH!
Imagine my surprise. 6:30am hustling a can around a tight confined space to get it outside (human-garbage-tetris) when the rubber rain shoe you have been dragging about beneath the wheels of the can and your own boots in the half-dark turns out to be a pigeon. Really? Not awesome.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Let yourself be knowed.
After neglecting all three of you with desk jobs that still read this clap-trap for so long I figured that the quickest way for me to highlight some new scores/finds (because not everything that I have drug home has been a keeper...) would be a short video clip.
While she-mom is off getting her hair coifed (me, personally, I have opted to let my appearance/self go, as having a baby tends to let the gawking strangers look past my serial killer-tweaked out trucker look while I scarf down iced coffee and vegan baked goods at the local farmers market and allow them focus on the kid with the dirty toe nails never once thinking thoughts of neglect.) (Jesus, that was a long aside) (do you even remember what I was going on about?) (better re-read some shit to get back in the flow, I move quick for a slow person... ... ... ...), like I was saying, mom gone, dad here and instead of paying the bills like I told her I would be doing (one armed mind you) I am here shooting snuff films of crap found in the trash. Enjoy.
We are off to watch Superbad (this will in fact be my third screening) where we can drink beer, bring babies, eat pizza and put our feet up on someone else's couch.
Ahh the benefits of working a shift that starts at 8:30am as opposed to 4am.
And tomorrow through Friday if you are downtown and/or south of market look for the asshole in the day glow top strutting his stuff, listening to books on tape, while collecting city cans full of dog shit, bum piss, your left over coffee and all the weeklies from last week because they get dumped in the corner cans when replaced with the new issues. Not a score for recycling Mr. Mayor.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Me in a nut shell
This is what the man (asshole) in the Ford with American Indian jewlery hanging from his rear view saw yesterday on Geary when he stopped short to block me from crossing the street. After throwing his hands up, I said "What? you stopping short on me?" he says " GO FUCK YOURSELF!!! You........ garbage....... man........." and speeds off as I salute him for his creativity in belittlement.
Cubisim?
Nancy showed me this link in the comment a few posts below and although I am super fucking jealous I didn't come up with the idea first the jealousy is superseded by the sheer feeling of amazement/disgust/befuddlement/confoundedness/agassesness that someone would pay $50.00 for a cube of trash from a tourist attraction. It has come to my attention in picking up city cans that its tourists leaving behind most of this trash and the idea that someone would want to commemorate their trip by paying for someone Else's trash makes me crazy. The kind of crazy that has dollar signs in its eyes! Who's with me here? Let us make some money selling garbage (made in china?).
I mean isn't that what commerce is all about? Showing someone that there is a hole in their life and filling it.
In this case their life is the land fill and I am still the God damned garbage man... So cyclical its nauseating.
Also, the guy calls the cubes-o-trash "scupltures". Who is this guy? Marcel Duchamp's great grandson? Would he call him Great grand-DADA?
Mine own two eyes.
Cable car turn around at Powell and Market.
A blind Asian man sings "the sun will come out tomorrow" for spare change into a microphone that plays from his travel case (the kind the business class uses).
A young Urban person approaches him mid song and axes/demands the mic.
The blind man gives the mic up like a shell shocked folk singer at his first open mic night while young jeezy (shoes untied, laces spread out a foot on either side of his feets) begins an over the top R&B song directed in the direction of Blonde's Pizza.
Saw the blind singer yesterday singing his own version of an Air Supply song changing the lyrics to "I can't fight my feeling anymore!". REMIX!!!!
Service with a smile.
Jack in the box.
Mission at 4th st.
street "individual" holding the door open for patrons hoping to incur the endless amounts of spare change folks are all too ready to give out if someone would just hold the door open for them when they enter a building.
Sporting a half assed smile beneath a full beard (I have come to learn he is called the wolf man, I'm guessing for the beard and not what he does in the park at night),
his looks chiseled by the streets, or speed (Same thing?).
His Steed (bike) leans against the wall with a custom paint job in purple, black and silver paint pen that simply states all his views in three simple letters: FTW.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Woke up drowning in chatchkie hell.
A few weeks ago I was picking up city cans in Union Square. I opened one on Stockton Street and found a twenty staring back at me. Now I have been fooled before, many times by 9-11 bills, some promo add for a dry cleaner desined to look like a bill, even a poo dollar has caught me off guard. But this was the real deal and it was Friday so I was pumped and now more so. The remainder of the shift was spent driving around picking up more tepid coffee remains (thanks Starbuck) and dog shit (these two are the majority of the contents of city cans), my anniversary was coming up and I was going to drop some cash on knives and other such food-nerd supplies for the wife and this would certainly help the ding be a bit less loud, then again I could get dinner or beer or gas. The mind gets busy quick, like when you are about to get a settlement and you have mapped out what the cash is going to.
It always ends bad. Always.
This instance was no different.
The victory lap of my shift was Market street between Stockton and North 5th st. and I could feel the fucker flutter around in my right pocket where I had shoved it hastily upon discovery, when I came upon this punk or crusty or train hopper or whatever and she had a dog and her clear cup was empty and I started to do the math of what I was making per day, per hour etc., I eye balled the dog and thought about mine and how important it is that I make sure she eats. So in a thought full/less instant I turned to the girl and said "look what I found in the garbage" as I handed her the Twomp (that used to be "street" for a 20 sack, K.I.R.!) she sprang into what I thought was going to be an inspired one woman reenactment of a scene from Bill and Teds excellent adventure as if she was doing "street theatre".
No. Not so lucky. This was her style.
"DUDE! THANKS DUDE! REALLY?"
I almost said no, not really and took the shit back. It was obvious that this chick was a junkie and I saw exactly where my money (mine?) was going as she carried on with "I JUST GOT INTO TOWN... HOW DO YOU GET THIS JOB? THAT'S COOL! MAN! REALLY? NO WAY! YOU ARE THE COOLEST!"
I couldn't hear her anymore. I was seeing red and rehearsing how I would never tell anyone about this, just like the time I was taken for $20 by the dude wearing a stethoscope saying he worked at the hospital and he was late for his shift and that needed a ride to his sisters house and in a moment of vulnerability, human kindness and whole hearted foolishness i gave him both the ride and the 20. Fuck me running! I just did that?
yes.
As her "old man" approached she phased me out and I stormed back to the truck watching her dance around the blanket they had layed down I suppose in an attempt to avoid getting dirtier, waving the money as if she were singing "we gonna get high tonight".
So bummed. I shut it out. Completly.
until...
I found a tenner Monday in the recycling, I stopped the blade from taking it into the truck with all the junk mail, FHM mags, Yachting digest and other non recyclable items like power chords, dvd players, toaster ovens, mattress pads, pots and pans, the occasional bumper from a car (its endless the kind of shit people think you can magically recycle just by putting it in the blue can "well it has metal and plastic right?"), at any rate I grabbed the ten repeating "not this time" over and over again out loud.
This one bought drinks for my partner and my self for two days. Not tye-dyed rolling papers, chore boy brillo pads and butane lighters.
In recent weeks I have found:
Mole skin journal that I left on the roof of my car, only to remember it on the bridge.
A shopping bag full of Diesel jeans and some other expensive denim brands that the women in the marina think that once they are done with it that it should just be trashed. "Banana Republic cashmere when combined with stripper shoes will decompose right?" (LETS GREEN THIS CITY! LIKE REALLY!)
Cell phone holster still in is package.
Sorry ass love letters.
A lamp shaped like a tree that need the wiring replaced.
Have I mentioned that the only panties you ever see are thongs? You never see granny panties or just plain old panties, always thongs. I guess you get what you pay for...
Anyway. I have rambled enough.
Perhaps I will find the motivation to connect the scanner soon and share some finds.
Until then I guess you will be left to read poorly written gibberish. Just be glad I utilize the spell check.
Until then I remain glowing in the pre-dawn light.
WILD STALLIONS!
-Socrates
It always ends bad. Always.
This instance was no different.
The victory lap of my shift was Market street between Stockton and North 5th st. and I could feel the fucker flutter around in my right pocket where I had shoved it hastily upon discovery, when I came upon this punk or crusty or train hopper or whatever and she had a dog and her clear cup was empty and I started to do the math of what I was making per day, per hour etc., I eye balled the dog and thought about mine and how important it is that I make sure she eats. So in a thought full/less instant I turned to the girl and said "look what I found in the garbage" as I handed her the Twomp (that used to be "street" for a 20 sack, K.I.R.!) she sprang into what I thought was going to be an inspired one woman reenactment of a scene from Bill and Teds excellent adventure as if she was doing "street theatre".
No. Not so lucky. This was her style.
"DUDE! THANKS DUDE! REALLY?"
I almost said no, not really and took the shit back. It was obvious that this chick was a junkie and I saw exactly where my money (mine?) was going as she carried on with "I JUST GOT INTO TOWN... HOW DO YOU GET THIS JOB? THAT'S COOL! MAN! REALLY? NO WAY! YOU ARE THE COOLEST!"
I couldn't hear her anymore. I was seeing red and rehearsing how I would never tell anyone about this, just like the time I was taken for $20 by the dude wearing a stethoscope saying he worked at the hospital and he was late for his shift and that needed a ride to his sisters house and in a moment of vulnerability, human kindness and whole hearted foolishness i gave him both the ride and the 20. Fuck me running! I just did that?
yes.
As her "old man" approached she phased me out and I stormed back to the truck watching her dance around the blanket they had layed down I suppose in an attempt to avoid getting dirtier, waving the money as if she were singing "we gonna get high tonight".
So bummed. I shut it out. Completly.
until...
I found a tenner Monday in the recycling, I stopped the blade from taking it into the truck with all the junk mail, FHM mags, Yachting digest and other non recyclable items like power chords, dvd players, toaster ovens, mattress pads, pots and pans, the occasional bumper from a car (its endless the kind of shit people think you can magically recycle just by putting it in the blue can "well it has metal and plastic right?"), at any rate I grabbed the ten repeating "not this time" over and over again out loud.
This one bought drinks for my partner and my self for two days. Not tye-dyed rolling papers, chore boy brillo pads and butane lighters.
In recent weeks I have found:
Mole skin journal that I left on the roof of my car, only to remember it on the bridge.
A shopping bag full of Diesel jeans and some other expensive denim brands that the women in the marina think that once they are done with it that it should just be trashed. "Banana Republic cashmere when combined with stripper shoes will decompose right?" (LETS GREEN THIS CITY! LIKE REALLY!)
Cell phone holster still in is package.
Sorry ass love letters.
A lamp shaped like a tree that need the wiring replaced.
Have I mentioned that the only panties you ever see are thongs? You never see granny panties or just plain old panties, always thongs. I guess you get what you pay for...
Anyway. I have rambled enough.
Perhaps I will find the motivation to connect the scanner soon and share some finds.
Until then I guess you will be left to read poorly written gibberish. Just be glad I utilize the spell check.
Until then I remain glowing in the pre-dawn light.
WILD STALLIONS!
-Socrates
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
the June July
Sorry ya'll (damn! I love the real estate pros) that I have been dragging such ass. But as most of you know we were waiting on a delivery of goods and the goods have showed up. I can't Say enough about this new product except that i sleep even less than i used to, so expect to see a Samsonite link at the side of the page due to the luggage sponsorship I landed due to the excessive luggage beneath the eyes.
I am back to work too early (a week off...) and I will try to get the scanner hooked up before too long and show some of the stellar notes that have blown into my path.
I did find this today and plan on keeping it in the bathroom to disturb company and most likely the wife. I also bought me these bitches so look the fuck out! now all I need is the grey shorts to go with my new hot bod.
nap time and then I will hold shit in various forms until I go back to work where I will again hold shit in more forms, perhaps shape some... it builds character.
I know no one is reading this and there is a sense of freedom in that. A feeling of peace even.
I am back to work too early (a week off...) and I will try to get the scanner hooked up before too long and show some of the stellar notes that have blown into my path.
I did find this today and plan on keeping it in the bathroom to disturb company and most likely the wife. I also bought me these bitches so look the fuck out! now all I need is the grey shorts to go with my new hot bod.
nap time and then I will hold shit in various forms until I go back to work where I will again hold shit in more forms, perhaps shape some... it builds character.
I know no one is reading this and there is a sense of freedom in that. A feeling of peace even.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Back in your life
While filling in on a route Friday I opened the recycling toter to find a seemingly brand new North Face super pro camping back pack stuffed with a tent bag, sleeping pad and a receipt for some Tumi luggage purchased back in 1996 for $667.00. At first I had thought there was something to return and some money to come up on, then I realized that the receipt was for the one item that was not there.
I was, however both relived and disappointed to not have found a sleeping bag along with the rest of the booty. Disappointed because our household lacks sleeping bags yet relived because using a bag that belongs to someone you do not know let alone have never seen just seems plain nasty. Even if they are rich enough to be dumb enough to think that by placing their "old" camping gear in the "blue" can that it will find it's way to being recycled, which in a way it has. I cannot say the same for the PC hard drive that lay just below it in the same can...
Peep the jamming finds of Friday below. I am fascinated by the colorway of the tent, Miami vice goes camping with OP?:
Other recent finds include:
-Brand new sealed Griffin italk voice recorder for ipods.
-Copies of last months New Yorkers for the bathroom sessions.
-A Tyvek envelope with my first and middle name (the first one, I have two middles and the cops don't like it when they overlook that) printed in marker above "San Francisco", this caught me off guard because believing everything that my parents told me when I was growing up I truly believed that I was special and one of a kind. Now to find that there was a partial version of me living in the Marina (a few blocks away from where my grandmother grew up) and it took all my strength to remove my self from the breezeway floor wipe away the tears and continue with my job while my mind travelled through the alternate universe very similar to that movie Primer. I am sure that everyone has moments like these once in a while...
-A note that confesses to stealing money after complaining about being used as the scape goat for the stolen money. I will post this one soon as it is a real kicker.
-A note between two old women discussing the issues of ageing and deterioration of health that goes from detailing mothers day activities to describing sores and bleeding in places you only read about (ahem) to listening to Oak Ridge Boys records. All this done in four small pink pages.
-DVDS, all sealed and wide screen format:
Hitch
Take The Lead
March Of The Penguins
Four Brothers
-I also found a strong and permanent distaste for a co-worker that pissed me off to such a degree that I attempted to leave him behind. This is the individual that dislikes black men but lusts after black women (see one of the first few posts) and refers to his father in law as a "dirty Mexican". He "mad dogs" me now and I think that work is beginning to get fun. Just like high school was...
As soon as I get motivated to connect the scanner I will post some notes that have found me over the course of the last few weeks. That is unless baby comes like she has been threatening yet failing to do for the last two weeks. Until then, your friend in reflective safety yellow clothing.
Also, if you enjoy reading about other peoples work life I recommend this book:
Dishwasher: One Man's Quest to Wash Dishes in All Fifty States
It used to be a zine and now it's a book. I am enjoying the hell out of it.
Also, the links used in this post only serve to identify the items I am referring to. They are not meant to encourage you to utilize them anymore that you are motivated to do on your own.
I should hope that I never have that much influence over any ones life.
Again, glowing and reflecting in the predawn light.
I was, however both relived and disappointed to not have found a sleeping bag along with the rest of the booty. Disappointed because our household lacks sleeping bags yet relived because using a bag that belongs to someone you do not know let alone have never seen just seems plain nasty. Even if they are rich enough to be dumb enough to think that by placing their "old" camping gear in the "blue" can that it will find it's way to being recycled, which in a way it has. I cannot say the same for the PC hard drive that lay just below it in the same can...
Peep the jamming finds of Friday below. I am fascinated by the colorway of the tent, Miami vice goes camping with OP?:
Other recent finds include:
-Brand new sealed Griffin italk voice recorder for ipods.
-Copies of last months New Yorkers for the bathroom sessions.
-A Tyvek envelope with my first and middle name (the first one, I have two middles and the cops don't like it when they overlook that) printed in marker above "San Francisco", this caught me off guard because believing everything that my parents told me when I was growing up I truly believed that I was special and one of a kind. Now to find that there was a partial version of me living in the Marina (a few blocks away from where my grandmother grew up) and it took all my strength to remove my self from the breezeway floor wipe away the tears and continue with my job while my mind travelled through the alternate universe very similar to that movie Primer. I am sure that everyone has moments like these once in a while...
-A note that confesses to stealing money after complaining about being used as the scape goat for the stolen money. I will post this one soon as it is a real kicker.
-A note between two old women discussing the issues of ageing and deterioration of health that goes from detailing mothers day activities to describing sores and bleeding in places you only read about (ahem) to listening to Oak Ridge Boys records. All this done in four small pink pages.
-DVDS, all sealed and wide screen format:
Hitch
Take The Lead
March Of The Penguins
Four Brothers
-I also found a strong and permanent distaste for a co-worker that pissed me off to such a degree that I attempted to leave him behind. This is the individual that dislikes black men but lusts after black women (see one of the first few posts) and refers to his father in law as a "dirty Mexican". He "mad dogs" me now and I think that work is beginning to get fun. Just like high school was...
As soon as I get motivated to connect the scanner I will post some notes that have found me over the course of the last few weeks. That is unless baby comes like she has been threatening yet failing to do for the last two weeks. Until then, your friend in reflective safety yellow clothing.
Also, if you enjoy reading about other peoples work life I recommend this book:
Dishwasher: One Man's Quest to Wash Dishes in All Fifty States
It used to be a zine and now it's a book. I am enjoying the hell out of it.
Also, the links used in this post only serve to identify the items I am referring to. They are not meant to encourage you to utilize them anymore that you are motivated to do on your own.
I should hope that I never have that much influence over any ones life.
Again, glowing and reflecting in the predawn light.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Man Survives Garbage Truck Crushing. or ahh ha!
You would think that this guy would know better. Then again as you think you realize that the dude probably doesn't read the paper much seeing that he is homless and all.
(05-08) 09:19 PDT West Palm Beach, Fla. (AP) --
A homeless man who had fallen asleep in a trash bin to escape the rain was dumped into a garbage truck and survived being crushed repeatedly before a worker saw him.
Robert Baswell, 44, said he screamed as the load of trash was crushed against his body at least seven times and was sure he would die. He tried to cushion one blow from the truck's compressor with a dead opossum, he said.
"I screamed one last breath," Baswell told the Palm Beach Post. A trash collector finally saw him as he tossed in a box and called for help.
Firefighters spent almost a half hour pulling pieces of trash out by hand to free the man.
"I want to find this gentleman and have him buy my lottery tickets because he is one lucky dude," said West Palm Beach Fire Rescue spokesman Phil Kaplan.
Baswell, who had bedded down in a brush-filled trash bin Sunday night to get out of the rain, suffered broken legs and ribs.
"I'm so happy to be here, as bad as I'm hurt," he said.
(05-08) 09:19 PDT West Palm Beach, Fla. (AP) --
A homeless man who had fallen asleep in a trash bin to escape the rain was dumped into a garbage truck and survived being crushed repeatedly before a worker saw him.
Robert Baswell, 44, said he screamed as the load of trash was crushed against his body at least seven times and was sure he would die. He tried to cushion one blow from the truck's compressor with a dead opossum, he said.
"I screamed one last breath," Baswell told the Palm Beach Post. A trash collector finally saw him as he tossed in a box and called for help.
Firefighters spent almost a half hour pulling pieces of trash out by hand to free the man.
"I want to find this gentleman and have him buy my lottery tickets because he is one lucky dude," said West Palm Beach Fire Rescue spokesman Phil Kaplan.
Baswell, who had bedded down in a brush-filled trash bin Sunday night to get out of the rain, suffered broken legs and ribs.
"I'm so happy to be here, as bad as I'm hurt," he said.
Monday, May 07, 2007
"I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!"
This past week the guy I ended up being paired up with normally works a one man route but had gotten something in his eye and didn't feel safe driving. He did however feel safe wearing sunglasses at 4:30 am as we entered the basements of buildings in the fisherman's wharf area, he also felt safe putting perscription eye drops in his eye that had apparently expired and subsequently made his eyes sting. alot. Also, he did not move the truck once. Not once...
When the dispatcher told me who I would be working with he said "he is an uh... interesting guy..." and left it at that. When I saw him I had faint memories of other guys telling me he was nuts. He in fact turned out to be nuts. It got so bad I would spout off insane shit back at him and he would not even register that I spoke. His narration to his sunglassed life at 4am was that strong.
We were taking a break and reading copies of the Examiner that they literally just throw on random door steps. I had breezed through the paper not really very interested in the lower than tabloid crap they feel the need to print, I just wanted to keep working and get the fuck away, when my partner would read things to me with the reading skill of an inter city sixth grader and then pose questions like "what is your honest feelings about the veto and don't say anything that would make me think that you are lying" but imagine really long pauses in the middle of each word...
After that query we were off politics (which I try to stay away from after being asked I told a Chinese chain smoking Right wing nut that I supported gay marriage and thought that some limitations should be placed on who gets to own a and use a gun, he then told me though his FM head phones and filter less camel cigarette that I was a liberal and proceeded to tell other guys my views in the coming weeks, you oughtta hear what one other guy said back to him about my views on critical mass... two peas in pod), like I was saying off politics and on to the stimulating topic of entertainment. uh oh! looks like Boy George is in trouble again for tying up a male escort and trying to force his way inside uninvited. My partner and all his insight says that he never would have guessed that back in the 80's individuals like Michael Jackson, George Michael, Boy George and Prince would turn out to be gay. I suggested that he might want to remove his sunglasses because it was pretty obvious about all but Prince, he rambled on and in my efforts to ignore him I came up with this little puzzler:
BOY GEORGE MICHAEL JACKSON
and this banger too:
BOY GEORGE BUSH
Oh the fun never ends...
I ramble, I know.
It's casual.
Once we got back to work he began to talk to me very closely about "George Michael" spanking guys against their will and illustrating it on the lids of garbage cans and yelling very loud threats to them (the cans) as if they (cans again) were the male escort that Boy George wanted to gorge.
In three days this guy did and said some of the strangest shit I have ever seen and I am not talking Crispin Glover weird. This was some other shit.
Working alone can be good or bad depending on your mental state in the first place.
Oh, he was about 42 or so and made little sense if any at all.
When the dispatcher told me who I would be working with he said "he is an uh... interesting guy..." and left it at that. When I saw him I had faint memories of other guys telling me he was nuts. He in fact turned out to be nuts. It got so bad I would spout off insane shit back at him and he would not even register that I spoke. His narration to his sunglassed life at 4am was that strong.
We were taking a break and reading copies of the Examiner that they literally just throw on random door steps. I had breezed through the paper not really very interested in the lower than tabloid crap they feel the need to print, I just wanted to keep working and get the fuck away, when my partner would read things to me with the reading skill of an inter city sixth grader and then pose questions like "what is your honest feelings about the veto and don't say anything that would make me think that you are lying" but imagine really long pauses in the middle of each word...
After that query we were off politics (which I try to stay away from after being asked I told a Chinese chain smoking Right wing nut that I supported gay marriage and thought that some limitations should be placed on who gets to own a and use a gun, he then told me though his FM head phones and filter less camel cigarette that I was a liberal and proceeded to tell other guys my views in the coming weeks, you oughtta hear what one other guy said back to him about my views on critical mass... two peas in pod), like I was saying off politics and on to the stimulating topic of entertainment. uh oh! looks like Boy George is in trouble again for tying up a male escort and trying to force his way inside uninvited. My partner and all his insight says that he never would have guessed that back in the 80's individuals like Michael Jackson, George Michael, Boy George and Prince would turn out to be gay. I suggested that he might want to remove his sunglasses because it was pretty obvious about all but Prince, he rambled on and in my efforts to ignore him I came up with this little puzzler:
BOY GEORGE MICHAEL JACKSON
and this banger too:
BOY GEORGE BUSH
Oh the fun never ends...
I ramble, I know.
It's casual.
Once we got back to work he began to talk to me very closely about "George Michael" spanking guys against their will and illustrating it on the lids of garbage cans and yelling very loud threats to them (the cans) as if they (cans again) were the male escort that Boy George wanted to gorge.
In three days this guy did and said some of the strangest shit I have ever seen and I am not talking Crispin Glover weird. This was some other shit.
Working alone can be good or bad depending on your mental state in the first place.
Oh, he was about 42 or so and made little sense if any at all.
Phsycology Today
Today in Cow Hollow (the neighborhood that is the financial warm up to the Marina) I found this little gem in a can above a MAC store:
There were two of them (get at me if you want the other one, seriously).
My favorite part is on the bill of the hat where it says "Toxin Type A", further rubbing peoples nose in what exactly (or not so exactly) they are willing to inject into their body to look/feel good. Just like tattoos! ("it's different though with tats bro cause this is like a bible cause of Jesus and stuff and this is like a crest of my family and this is an eagle for freedom and its all wrapped up in a tidy little blankie that makes me a unique individual") same shit different dollar/location. I hate my skin.
These shits are brand new and were sitting on top of a copy of Psychology Today along with a pharmaceutical company promo t-shirt printed on an American Apparel shirt. So much money to waste on people with so much money to waste.
There were two of them (get at me if you want the other one, seriously).
My favorite part is on the bill of the hat where it says "Toxin Type A", further rubbing peoples nose in what exactly (or not so exactly) they are willing to inject into their body to look/feel good. Just like tattoos! ("it's different though with tats bro cause this is like a bible cause of Jesus and stuff and this is like a crest of my family and this is an eagle for freedom and its all wrapped up in a tidy little blankie that makes me a unique individual") same shit different dollar/location. I hate my skin.
These shits are brand new and were sitting on top of a copy of Psychology Today along with a pharmaceutical company promo t-shirt printed on an American Apparel shirt. So much money to waste on people with so much money to waste.
Internuts!
Seriously, I hate the internet right now.
we have had the worst connection in the world the last month and a half.
It begins to feel like the lottery, or payday. Once one of notices that the airport has a green light we dash to our computers and pay bills, read the paper and scoff at the idea of wasting valuable time posting to a blog.
I almost quit this thing, then the internet went wonky and I began to feel as if it were out of my control therefore I could not simply quit the blog unless it was on my own standards.
In the next few weeks things may slow down due to the pending delivery of our little one, and they may not pick up until she moves out. So check back periodically. I will try to post at least a minimum of once a week after the baby leave is over (two weeks from delivery).
As I type this on a pirated connect from a neighbors apparent dial up connection my wife is ripping AT&T a new one. This tension she is displaying may speed up the forthcoming delivery of said child.
See you on the other side.
we have had the worst connection in the world the last month and a half.
It begins to feel like the lottery, or payday. Once one of notices that the airport has a green light we dash to our computers and pay bills, read the paper and scoff at the idea of wasting valuable time posting to a blog.
I almost quit this thing, then the internet went wonky and I began to feel as if it were out of my control therefore I could not simply quit the blog unless it was on my own standards.
In the next few weeks things may slow down due to the pending delivery of our little one, and they may not pick up until she moves out. So check back periodically. I will try to post at least a minimum of once a week after the baby leave is over (two weeks from delivery).
As I type this on a pirated connect from a neighbors apparent dial up connection my wife is ripping AT&T a new one. This tension she is displaying may speed up the forthcoming delivery of said child.
See you on the other side.
Friday, April 06, 2007
OOO that smell...
The truck I was on this past Thursday smelled alternately of Zesty Italian Dressing and dog shit.
I actually thought it was me for the first few hours. It is very possible.
I actually thought it was me for the first few hours. It is very possible.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Repetition is the master
Some days you see things that are baffling, like a purple acrylic finger nail stuck inside the weave of a discarded cowboy hat. Other times things come in patterns or they just set a them for you to follow. Today I threw away at least three terry cloth robs. There must be a calendar called "Out with the new me and in with the new me" that the assholes at Chronicle Books put out that has April 4th marked with some crazy font that its "Time to change that old terry cloth rob out for a new one day." I hate Chronicle Books. Really. Anybody want a "Day of the Dead" coffee mug? Why not?...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
