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Did The World Kick You In The Junk Today?
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Where To Begin
Well It seems the only thing in Edmonton that I really despise thus far is the driving. That's right, no drunken indians jumping in front of your cars, the grizzled mill workers are few and far between and only come out at night anyways (like vampires), and the majority of the population are not right-offs as we see in PG. |
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Landscaping Is A Lot Like Aushcwitz
Well I kicked the unemployment fairy in the jaw with the rewarding career of landscaping. Since I got hired the same day of application it lead me to believe that the prerequisites are a strong beating pulse and a good back. I came to the site expecting the co-workers to be carnies and low and behold I was not disappointed. TEXTBOOK CARN-BALLS.... 100% three ring circus they were. One day I'll sneak a tape recorder onto the scene so all those interested can get a taste of what I mean. At any rate the first project is a tree-planting project. I'll explain my duties: Dig hole, fertilize hole, drop plant with cardboard holder thing into hole, remove cardboard and plant tree...repeat until legs are so swollen they must be decapitated, you live in a wheel chair and are forever dubbed "wheels". Sounds easy right (burn in hell) I work on a 75 degree slope (I shit you not) riddled with thorns and mud and lug countless numbers of trees up and down this every day, not to mention while wearing haggard 5 pound steel toes to boot (like the pun). I also work full time 10.5 hours a day. God damn you need the stamina of a marathon runner to upphold this biatch. Pine trees now give me night terrors.
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Heatstroke Is Your Friend
Well my tree planting extravagenza is over. I have temporarily been added to the "maintenance crew" where the headaches of dealing with persons of profound mental retardation having a mental age below three years and generally being unable to learn connected speech or guard against common dangers is eliminated. Nonetheless it still is quite the gonger (gong show) out there. Performing meaningless busy work such as using the gas powered leaf blower to blow the dirt off the street. WTF? It's a road, not a piece of fine china for christ sakes. To pass the time it is sometimes fun to pretend you are a ghost buster with the backpack leaf blower and that you have to put an end to Staypuff Marshmello Man's (or that Martine chick from high school) rein of terror. Still it is a much better job than that dung heap we commonly refer to as BK. Those managers certainly deserved a "Tony Danza" * See Below for explaination *
"The Tony Danza"
This move is patented in 3 provinces and 18 states, and is a great way to really degrade a girl. This move refers to Tony Danza from the family show "Whos the Boss", a popular sitcom in the 90's. So, first get yourslf a trash-barrel slut, bring her back and start waxing that ass doggstyle. Then ask her "Who's the Boss??" and she will most likely reply "You are baby", this is your cue---Immediatly reply "Wrong Bitch It's Tony Danza, then Donkey Punch her in the back of her neck, rendering her unconsious for a minute or two. When the beast awakes tell her she was great then throw her out on the street.
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Frostbite Is Your Friend
Today was an interesting day. I worked a job at the local courthouse. I wasn't too shocked when I saw that about 95% of the people entering the courthouse where of native descent. Now it's one thing to tell native jokes but when they actually come true it's a whole different story. The particular incident I enjoyed most was when a busload of natives (natures practical jokes) pulled up in a wood panel station wagon. After they got out, a garment inside the Pontiac Parisienne caught my eye. There was an ordinary pair of work gloves on the seat that were clearly marked in permanent felt marker as "GLOVES". I then tried to track down this vegabond to see if subsequent articles of clothing where as well marked in such a manner. For example, he may have clearly labled "Pants", "Leather Hat", etc. right on the clothes just in case one forgets where they go on the body I suppose. Other than that business as usual.
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Curious George Goes To The Mental Institution
Think of the CRAZIEST most INSANE place to work and I may have just been there yesterday. You guessed it, yours truly was pulling the 7.30-5.30 out at the mental institution. I couldn't believe they let some of these decrepid zombies roam the grounds unsupervised. If I was running the show they'd be hooked up to a clothesline via a leash, and me, with cattle prod in hand, would watch them run, dig etc.... To no particular audience yesterday I kept making copious puns such as, "Am I CRAZY or is it hot out here.... call me INSANE but i just raked this area." The kicker was I had to keep my tree pruners on me so loony tunes didn't get any "Albert Fish" ideas and shiv me in the ribs later to be stored in the freezer.
It was fairly intertaining, to say the least, this one guy just kept yelling this incoherent shit and another guy with a mullet kept chanting "jesus loves you" Another guy did like 20 laps of the place with his head up just talking to no one at all. They really force feed Christianity to those buggers. Inside the area we were working on was a pile of insane drawings made in sidewalk chalk then disturbing things like the 7 deadly sins listed and stuff. Fortunately I was wearing my "not insane" badge so none of the orderlies had to come and bust my chops. We had to landscape this fenced in area. It was all "pretty" inside with a fountain and shit and nice shrubs and then like 15 foot gates all around this mo fo.
It was also quite warm outside that day to add to the CRAZIENESS and I'vve got the skin cancer burns to prove it.....its not always nice working outside in this sahara desert climate.
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My eyes, The Goggles Do Nothing!!!
Well being that almost every job has it's share of danger pay whether you're a carnival operator (get your face stuck in the gears), fast food employee (get chemical burns off the sink sanitizer), postal worker Z(cut yourself on an envelope and bleed to death) etc. Well it turns out that landcaping is also a death pit. The debris catcher located on most stardard issue weed wackers DOES serve a purpose. Apparantly just wearing the flimsy safety glasses is protection enough. HMMMMM..... revving a fucking gas powered machine to multiple thousand RPM, which has the capacity to hurl light weight stones considerable distances. Sounds about right. Well anyways the rocks always seem to find a way to hit my face allover and occasionaly richochet off the back of my face and then deflect into my eyes anyways. I'll give an audio recording re-enactment of me using the weed eater. WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR *thock*(rock hits me somewhere in the cranium) AW FUCK!(cursing) Then repeat. On a lighter note "Hi Ju" (Hitler junior) my boss, is no longer a heinous douche bag. After discussing the bastard with my assistant manager he pulled his shit together for fear i would shut down his crooked operation. It just goes to show you that when your boss is an asshole, if you hit him over the head with a 40 Oz. bat it all works out in the end......dont be shy go ahead and lay the lumber to him. Peace for now.
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"Gee, Your Honour, I Don't Know How My Boss Fell Into That Wheat Thresher..."
Again with the fucking weed-eater. Who would've thought that the combustion of oil and gasoline and the friction of various metal parts could create heat? I know this may seem like an unusual concept, but the 2nd degree burns on my arm prove this is possible. Well my boss has freaked out on me every day since I broke his precious ride on lawn tractor which he doesn't have to pay for or maintain. I assume he sticks his wang in the gas tank when no one is looking. "Ohhhhhh ya Mr. Deere That's the spot right there....." Anyways among my favourite freak-outs were today and yesterday. And I quote, "This is bullshit work, if you don't fucking go through this entire fucking site I'll make your life a living hell." Can anyone explain why I always think of the sweet burns after the confrontation has ended. What I should've said is,"I'm sorry Ray I'm not ready for a relationship, but thanks for asking". He's threatened to fire me three times, and I know exactly what he's gonna say every fucking time. I should just complete his sentences next time cause he's a predictable middle aged socially inept bag of monkey shit whose life didnt turn out as planned so he takes it out on 18 year old employees. "If I don't see a vast fucking improvement by next week I'll be terminating your employment!!!!!!!" INCLOSED TO THE LEFT IS AN ARTISTS CONCEPTION OF MY BOSS.
Nursery Rhymes
Sung in the key of "a". OHHHHHHHH I hate My fucking job
I work with fat disgusting slobs
The obese foreman says I don't respect her power
You make Ten Ninety Five a fucking hour!!!
There's a bunch of carnies on my crew.
The foreman looks like Sea World's "Shammu" (she also eats poooooooo) *hit the high notes*.
The loser and carnie ratio is copious
It's sending my days down- slope- ius
*more to come....*
Am I Wearing A Chaueffer Hat? A drivers licence around the work post seems to be quite the hot ticket item! From the number of people that show up to work without a drivers licence you would think the automobile was just recently invented and I am one of the lucky few monarchs who gets to reap the benefits. For fucks sake everyone at work whether they be a temporary guy or a Land Tec clown asks me 2 questions every day...... "Is that your car?" and "Where do you live?" As much fun as going out of my way for some casual work acquaintance is; I'm not gonna take you home so just get on the rank ass bus and accept it. It's comparable to being back in the '60's where graduating from high school was a landmark achievement for the ages. *Random guy from '60's*... "Woo man, you graduated? Far Out shit man. I've got a job at the mill pushing boards through a planer"* |
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