As i mentioned in my last posting I have found employment at the lovely business of Sonic:America's Drive-IN. Working there is fun and at some times is actually a challenge dealing with all the stupid retards that they let work there. (Some names have been changed to protect the guilty)
WARNING!!!!! If you frequently get food at fast food restaurants you will want to stop reading now. If you continue on you may fins yourself never eating at a Sonic again. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!
OK... So I am the evening shift cook Monday through Friday and I work the day shift on the weekends. The things that go on in this store horrify me and make me never want to eat at any other fast food restaurant again in my life. First off the two managers who work at night Suzie and Bobby and husband and wife and have been for 28 years. They are definitely a couple of huge potheads as they tell me stories all the time about their drunken, stoned, adventures everywhere. I'm not saying that pot-heads are bad as I do claim to belong to that same crowd. They also happen to smoke cigarettes which I also do so again no problem there either. What I do have a problem with though is when the fucking night manager is standing about 10 feet away from the place where we cook our food smoking a cigarette!!! At night they all go to the back (me included) and smoke. And when I say the back, I don't mean outside...I mean like ten feet just past the grill, still in the building, outback. The place definitely is not up to standard on any kind of health code at all. Bobby and Suzie must be sucking some ones dick at the Health Department to even keep that store running. The other day, the other day time cook went out back and smoked a half of a joint and put the other half behind his ear and started cooking again. I have seen the manager, and I am guilty of doing this myself...sorry...Go straight from handling raw meat i.e. hamburger to mixing a cherry limeade, which requires you to touch the limes. I have seen a guy go straight from scrubbing the floor to making hamburgers without even washing his hands. I know that on some nights meat will sit on the grill for 2-3 hours and dry out and when somebody orders food we will move it to the hot side of the grill and dump some water on it so it will be moist. We also do the same type pf things with fries, tots, popcorn chicken, corn dogs, chicken strips, and anything else that is deep fried. You fries may test fresh...but I guarantee you that they have been sitting under a light for about a half hour to keep them warm and when you order them we through them back into the 330 degree oil just so they will be hot and you think they will be fresh. The place is so bad that I have even seen the other day cook sell weed and Xanax during business hours out of the store. Most of the people who work there are people who live in North Tulsa, you know what type of people these are if you have lived here or in East Saint Louis, and are fat and dirty. They just brought in a dude to hire today that looks like Bill from King of the Hill. And they plan on letting him cook there. I have never seen spit into a food but I have definitely seen people scratch themselves in "bad places" then go straight back to cooking. There have been a few times I have seen things dropped on the floor to be picked back up and but back into use. We cook the eggs on the same grill and with the same spatula and grease that we cook the raw beef, pork, and chicken, on, in, and with. The other day our freezer was acting up and everything was melting and thawing out including the meat...What did we do...nothing. We continued to use the product even though it had been defrosting for the last Hour and a half or so.I only work there because they were the people who would pay the highest. I also started smoking cigarettes again as a result of working the day shift. The girls who work up front during the day just stand around and argue with each other all fucking day long about how no one else is doing anything. There is so much tension that I either need a blow job or a cigarette and I wouldn't let any of those women near YOUR dick. I just thought that you might like a brief glimpse into the inside of a typical fast food restaurant. If you habe any questions feel free to leave them in the comments.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Long Time No Post
So... I know it has been a very long time since I have posted anything. Not that it really matters because of the fact that no one ready this except for Mr. Poopsy and he probably doesn't even read it anymore. Anyhow since my last post a lot of cool, weird, and exciting things have been going on in my life. I am now employed and the two best companies in the world. Well at least when you are employed by both they are the best but separately they suck huge dick. The companies are Sonic and Blockbuster. I get free food and free movies everyday. What more could a man need besides food and entertainment. I don't have an office job where I can watch Mexicans clean algae out of three foot deep ponds so I must resort to other, more abnormal ways of getting entertainment.
I am now done with my second semester and first year at TU. After a year of college and the fraternity life I needed a break so I along with another GAY brother and one of his friends are moving out of the country in about four months. This is going to be pretty exciting and fulfilling because I will get show all those people who called me an idiot for doing such a thing that I am capable of doing it and quite well at that. A lot of funny things have happened to me but I can't remember most of them as I was either stoned or drunk at the time and both of those things tend to impair your ability to remember all the funny things that happened. One event that I remember in particular though happened a few days after the end of finals and we were at the GAY house...
It all started when I got a call from one of the bros. asking if I wanted to come over and party. I had nothing else to do and no job so I decided to go over and get fucked up for old times sake. I had no beer or money so I didn't plan on doing much of anything except watching other people get fucked up. Well... when i got to the house it appeared that there had been a party there the night before and that one of the brothers had rounded up all the unopened beers and put them in a particular brothers fridge. Now... I usually steal food and liquor from this brother over all the breaks because he is stupid enough to leave them there for me so... I go into P-Schell's room and low and behold in his fridge is just the right amount of beer to get very drunk on. So i take 3 or 7 or 9 or 11... not really sure how many but anyway I was getting pretty drunk with my roommate Thor when our other GAY brother Opcom A busts through the door asking if we had seen any of the Keystones in P-Schell's fridge because they were all his. I, in my drunken state, attempted to figure out why Opcom A's beer was in P-Schells' fridge. (I didn't know that he had rounded them up at this time). So he tells me his reason (the rounding up of the lost beers just as Jesus shepherds over his lost sheep) and I attempt to explain to him through the use of perfect logic that if they did not belong to him in the first place that I wasn't really stealing from him. He just got mad and left but my night was not over yet. About midnight I got the drunchies (definition found here here for those of you unfamiliar with the term) and decided that a trip to the QT would be the best solution for my problem. So I was getting ready to make a Quick Trip to well...Quick Trip when I realized that I had $0 and no car. My first thought was to get my roommate to drive me and pay for me as he and been eating lunch with my ID for like the past month and a half and he owed me. So I went to my loving roommate Thor and asked "Good Lord, God of Thunder...wouldest thou drive me unto the closet QT for the purpose of sedating mine hunger?" I was extremely disappointed in Thor when he answered "If only mine chariot had enough gas to get you to QT and back and for me to also driveth it to mine work and back in the morrow, then would I help you maketh you epic drunk QT Odyssey". So feeling defeated I decided to go to bed when I turned around and saw that laying on my bookcase was a 50 states quarter collection that my grandparents had gotten me for Christmas. It had 50 of the Denver mint coins and probably half of the Philadelphia mint coins. This set of coins was probably worth about 35-40 dollars in collection value while only about $17 in face value (these statistics stolen from here). So i began forming a plan in my mind of how I could acquire some food without the help of Thor. I popped all of the quarters out of the cardboard holder and stumbled (quite literally) all the way to QT. Crossing the road was like playing Frogger on the hardest level except I knew if I got hit that I wouldn't just respawn and the original starting point. So when I made it past he monster traffic trap that is 11th street in Tulsa at 4 am I decided to buy about $12 worth of cigarettes and food. You should have seen the guys face when I told him that I would be paying in all quarters. He looked something like this which I though was a bit creepy but I wanted my food and paid him twelve dollars in quarters anyway. When finished counting he said "Yeh...Change" all Lurch like. I finished listening to the band playing the song while he sang and danced just saying "Yeh!!!...Change" and other random words. He didn't even say good bye to me or tell me to come back.
SO after crossing back over 11th street, risking my life to get back to the GAY house so i could sleep somewhere for the night...I consumed my lovely QT delicacies, smoked a wonderful cigarette and fell fast asleep where I dreamed of having dance parties with Lurch while playing classic arcade games.
I am now done with my second semester and first year at TU. After a year of college and the fraternity life I needed a break so I along with another GAY brother and one of his friends are moving out of the country in about four months. This is going to be pretty exciting and fulfilling because I will get show all those people who called me an idiot for doing such a thing that I am capable of doing it and quite well at that. A lot of funny things have happened to me but I can't remember most of them as I was either stoned or drunk at the time and both of those things tend to impair your ability to remember all the funny things that happened. One event that I remember in particular though happened a few days after the end of finals and we were at the GAY house...
It all started when I got a call from one of the bros. asking if I wanted to come over and party. I had nothing else to do and no job so I decided to go over and get fucked up for old times sake. I had no beer or money so I didn't plan on doing much of anything except watching other people get fucked up. Well... when i got to the house it appeared that there had been a party there the night before and that one of the brothers had rounded up all the unopened beers and put them in a particular brothers fridge. Now... I usually steal food and liquor from this brother over all the breaks because he is stupid enough to leave them there for me so... I go into P-Schell's room and low and behold in his fridge is just the right amount of beer to get very drunk on. So i take 3 or 7 or 9 or 11... not really sure how many but anyway I was getting pretty drunk with my roommate Thor when our other GAY brother Opcom A busts through the door asking if we had seen any of the Keystones in P-Schell's fridge because they were all his. I, in my drunken state, attempted to figure out why Opcom A's beer was in P-Schells' fridge. (I didn't know that he had rounded them up at this time). So he tells me his reason (the rounding up of the lost beers just as Jesus shepherds over his lost sheep) and I attempt to explain to him through the use of perfect logic that if they did not belong to him in the first place that I wasn't really stealing from him. He just got mad and left but my night was not over yet. About midnight I got the drunchies (definition found here here for those of you unfamiliar with the term) and decided that a trip to the QT would be the best solution for my problem. So I was getting ready to make a Quick Trip to well...Quick Trip when I realized that I had $0 and no car. My first thought was to get my roommate to drive me and pay for me as he and been eating lunch with my ID for like the past month and a half and he owed me. So I went to my loving roommate Thor and asked "Good Lord, God of Thunder...wouldest thou drive me unto the closet QT for the purpose of sedating mine hunger?" I was extremely disappointed in Thor when he answered "If only mine chariot had enough gas to get you to QT and back and for me to also driveth it to mine work and back in the morrow, then would I help you maketh you epic drunk QT Odyssey". So feeling defeated I decided to go to bed when I turned around and saw that laying on my bookcase was a 50 states quarter collection that my grandparents had gotten me for Christmas. It had 50 of the Denver mint coins and probably half of the Philadelphia mint coins. This set of coins was probably worth about 35-40 dollars in collection value while only about $17 in face value (these statistics stolen from here). So i began forming a plan in my mind of how I could acquire some food without the help of Thor. I popped all of the quarters out of the cardboard holder and stumbled (quite literally) all the way to QT. Crossing the road was like playing Frogger on the hardest level except I knew if I got hit that I wouldn't just respawn and the original starting point. So when I made it past he monster traffic trap that is 11th street in Tulsa at 4 am I decided to buy about $12 worth of cigarettes and food. You should have seen the guys face when I told him that I would be paying in all quarters. He looked something like this which I though was a bit creepy but I wanted my food and paid him twelve dollars in quarters anyway. When finished counting he said "Yeh...Change" all Lurch like. I finished listening to the band playing the song while he sang and danced just saying "Yeh!!!...Change" and other random words. He didn't even say good bye to me or tell me to come back.
SO after crossing back over 11th street, risking my life to get back to the GAY house so i could sleep somewhere for the night...I consumed my lovely QT delicacies, smoked a wonderful cigarette and fell fast asleep where I dreamed of having dance parties with Lurch while playing classic arcade games.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
A Tribute to Chris Amey
I know that so far most of my blog posts have been what some people would consider funny and other people would consider fucked up. Well this post is going to be a little bit different in that it will be a moderately serious post. If you are looking for something funny turn back now because this post is not it.
This post comes a little bit late in perspective to when this event happened but I have been very busy with school so I have not be able to post in awhile. The event that I will be writing about has actually been mentioned in my Home for the Holidays post. At the very end I mention having to go back to MO for my Uncle Chris' funeral. Well that was a true story except that he died in a car crash, not a buggy/horse fucking incident. He died due to complications of the car accident on January 2, 2009. He was 49 years old and to put it in the words of LSB "He was technically my cousin, I called him Uncle, and considered him a brother". I was fortunate to have been able to spend most of my life around my uncle. He always lived within 30 minutes of my house and i would usually hang out with him and his son Eli. We had many good times together which included random jam sessions at his house or mine as he was a singer/songwriter/musician and a damn good one at that too, talking about arrowheads as we are both intrested in Native American history, or just traveling together to setup music gigs or to deliver dog food. He was always good for a word of advice along with a pop at the convenient store if you rode with him.
Well the night I got the call I was sitting in the GAY house drunk off my ass since it was obviously Christmas break and what better to do than drink right. Well here I am sitting in our Grand High Wizard's apartment being drunk, watching a comedian, and watching our Grand High Wizard(GHW) play World of Warcraft(WOW) when suddenly my phone rings and I see that it is my aunt, not the pizza I ordered. So i clear my thoughts so as to be able to speak clearly to my aunt and answer the phone. "Hello?" I answered un-sure of why she was calling me at 3 a.m. The answer I receive is my Dad's voice saying "Son, I have some bad news...Your Uncle Chrisy was killed in a car accident earlier tonight". At this point I lost it. There were only two people besides myself who witnessed the events that proceded from that phone call and I am glad there wasn't more. I immediatley began to cry probably as hard as I ever had. My dad told me to call my mom as we was going to see my Grandma Mary( the mother of Chris). So I called my mom and tried to speak with her for a little bit, but was crying so hard that I could barley speak.
After I got off the phone with my mom, I called my brother or, LSB as he is known in this here blog , He was already on his way home from the bar he was drinking at. When I hung up I went upstairs to my room to get my hoody. I sat down on my futon and immediately threw my cell phone against the brick wall of my room in anger at the world. Finally, my brother arrived and I went back to his place for a little while. When I was done crying for the night I came back to the GAY house and fell asleep.
Over the next few days I had random outbursts of crying. One particularly bad one was when I was listening to some music on my computer and had placed it on shuffle. All of the sudden one of my Uncle's songs comes blaring out of the speakers and I loose it again.
Well I went back home for the funeral which as the funeral home director said "If a funeral can be called good, That was one of the best I have ever seen. If we would have known you guys were going to put on a concert we would have charged admission" The reason for her saying this was as I mentioned earlie my uncle was a musician so all through his funeral my Aunts and Uncles all of whom are very musically talented, sang multiple songs including some of My Uncle's works. I had to come back to T-town the day after the funeral so not much time to visit but anyway everything had been good until one night a few days back I became intoxicated and someone played a song that reminded me of him and I ended up crying myself to sleep that night.
So, for all of you who are still reading and expecting something funny I'm sorry that I ruined your expectations but I did warn you at the beginning. With that being said I will leave you with a question from one of my Uncle's songs. "Where do angels go, when they say good-bye?"
This post comes a little bit late in perspective to when this event happened but I have been very busy with school so I have not be able to post in awhile. The event that I will be writing about has actually been mentioned in my Home for the Holidays post. At the very end I mention having to go back to MO for my Uncle Chris' funeral. Well that was a true story except that he died in a car crash, not a buggy/horse fucking incident. He died due to complications of the car accident on January 2, 2009. He was 49 years old and to put it in the words of LSB "He was technically my cousin, I called him Uncle, and considered him a brother". I was fortunate to have been able to spend most of my life around my uncle. He always lived within 30 minutes of my house and i would usually hang out with him and his son Eli. We had many good times together which included random jam sessions at his house or mine as he was a singer/songwriter/musician and a damn good one at that too, talking about arrowheads as we are both intrested in Native American history, or just traveling together to setup music gigs or to deliver dog food. He was always good for a word of advice along with a pop at the convenient store if you rode with him.
Well the night I got the call I was sitting in the GAY house drunk off my ass since it was obviously Christmas break and what better to do than drink right. Well here I am sitting in our Grand High Wizard's apartment being drunk, watching a comedian, and watching our Grand High Wizard(GHW) play World of Warcraft(WOW) when suddenly my phone rings and I see that it is my aunt, not the pizza I ordered. So i clear my thoughts so as to be able to speak clearly to my aunt and answer the phone. "Hello?" I answered un-sure of why she was calling me at 3 a.m. The answer I receive is my Dad's voice saying "Son, I have some bad news...Your Uncle Chrisy was killed in a car accident earlier tonight". At this point I lost it. There were only two people besides myself who witnessed the events that proceded from that phone call and I am glad there wasn't more. I immediatley began to cry probably as hard as I ever had. My dad told me to call my mom as we was going to see my Grandma Mary( the mother of Chris). So I called my mom and tried to speak with her for a little bit, but was crying so hard that I could barley speak.
After I got off the phone with my mom, I called my brother or, LSB as he is known in this here blog , He was already on his way home from the bar he was drinking at. When I hung up I went upstairs to my room to get my hoody. I sat down on my futon and immediately threw my cell phone against the brick wall of my room in anger at the world. Finally, my brother arrived and I went back to his place for a little while. When I was done crying for the night I came back to the GAY house and fell asleep.
Over the next few days I had random outbursts of crying. One particularly bad one was when I was listening to some music on my computer and had placed it on shuffle. All of the sudden one of my Uncle's songs comes blaring out of the speakers and I loose it again.
Well I went back home for the funeral which as the funeral home director said "If a funeral can be called good, That was one of the best I have ever seen. If we would have known you guys were going to put on a concert we would have charged admission" The reason for her saying this was as I mentioned earlie my uncle was a musician so all through his funeral my Aunts and Uncles all of whom are very musically talented, sang multiple songs including some of My Uncle's works. I had to come back to T-town the day after the funeral so not much time to visit but anyway everything had been good until one night a few days back I became intoxicated and someone played a song that reminded me of him and I ended up crying myself to sleep that night.
So, for all of you who are still reading and expecting something funny I'm sorry that I ruined your expectations but I did warn you at the beginning. With that being said I will leave you with a question from one of my Uncle's songs. "Where do angels go, when they say good-bye?"
Friday, January 9, 2009
First Follower
It has recently come to my realization that I now have one follower in my blog. Yeah me!!! I have always wanted to start a blog but in my parents house we did not have the intranet so i was unable to start one as to check and update it I would have had to drive down the road about a mile, just to get to a house that was in some small way civilized. Now, i had not planned on writing about anything else except for my new follower(and i know this person in real life so it really doesn't even count) but i was sitting here and remembered a story from my childhood days in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and thought it needed telling. This story will be filled with homespun wisdom and backwoods terms like yall, 'coon hide, and other such fine literary devices of the like. This story probably won't be all that funny but i don't care if you think its funny or not, i am still going to write it.
Our story begins one very cold January morning about 5 a.m. Now you are probably wondering what the fuck I was doing up at 5 a.m. over Christmas Break. Well to tell you the truth I was and in some small way still am, an extreme country boy. I hunt, fish, trap, and do all kinds of country type things like raising goats and horses only to watch one brutally murder the other. http://orbpoopsy.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-brothers-little-pony.html Now that you've returned from reading that story or since the only person who reads this blog is the guy who wrote that story himself, you didn't read it we shall continue. So I am up at 5 a.m. eating breakfast from eggs I gathered last night and having eggs and bacon(the bacon of course coming from this years hog that we butchered so we could have fresh jowls so we could eat the traditional good luck for the new year feast of Black Eyed Peas and Ham Jowls) getting ready to check my trap line. I'm not talking about live trap cages here people(person) I am talking about the kind of traps you think about when you think in-bred mountain man and when you think Daniel Boone fucking crossing the plains. Trappers where I am from have a bad reputation. It comes mainly from dumb fucks like this
This guys is a complete dumb fuck. Although i must give him credit for the wondefull selection of music he used to backup his slide show. That is some good ol' downhome fiddling music right thar for ya'll. Anyway leg hold traps are the easiest type to open and it's very obvious how to do it. Also if this mother fucker had asked the landowner permission to be hiking on his land the landowner probably would have mentioned the traps and the poor old man would not have had to deal with this sad emotional time for his family. Also the experiment with the carrot, that is an extremely bad example. If you want to know how bad it hurts I challenge you to set one(you can get some from me here in Tulsa as I do have several dozen here) and put your finger in it. It hurts but only for a little bit. I accidentally got my finger caught in one while setting in one of my lines but that's another story and I have gone way off track so... back to the story.
So we( being my uncles and I) set off before the sun has even come up to drive all over the beautiful Ozark Mountains to check our traps. On the way to the first line it's kind of a tradition in our closed circle of trappers to make predictions for the day as to how many of each kind of animals will be caught that day. My prediction ended up being 6 'coon 2 mink ,both buck, 10 beaver, 2 opossums, 3 muskrats, and one spare. A spare is not an animal by the way, it's just anything extra we might happen to catch like a dog, bird, bob-cat etc. So we make it to our first line and are excited to find that this mile and a half run of traps has produced 3 beavers, 2 coon, a opossum, an a mink. Now that is a very good haul for that size of line. The only sad part is that you have to carry the dead carcasses of all these animals for that full mile and a half. And with only two people that's roughly 60 pounds a piece of extra weight to carry. The one plus side to this is that you get to smell the musky scent glands of the mink the whole way. When mink get angry at something they spray like a skunk. It's always fun before we kill the mink by knocking it out and drowning it(shooting it would cause too much damage to the fur) to torment it to get it to spray at you. Many people don't like this smell but...fuck you I don't care. So we lay our haul in the back of our pickup and continue throughout the day killing small helpless animal by either means of drowning them or shooting them with a .22 caliber pistol. When we had reached our last line we had accumulated 5 'coon, 1 mink, 10 beaver, 1, opossum(Slicktail), and 3 muskrats. This last line was one I had set entirely on my own so it was time to see how well i had and done and see if my line would fill my quota. For the first half of the line it looked pretty bad I had two pullouts and one foot. If an animal gets desperate enough it will chew its own foot off to escape much like this
It's always fun to catch a 'coon with only three feet because you know that he had to be like the gummy bear thinking," I can survive with one missing foot, but two gone fuck that I'll just resign myself to my destiny and be shot in the ear hole in the morning". The last half of the line though was much better. I caught 2 cooon, 1 slicktail, and one bird and and with only one trap left i was hoping for the mink to fulfill my quota. Well I rounded the corner and boom there he was. One of the biggest, meanest buck mink I have ever seen. Ir was so big it was probably in reality a small baby river otter or something. Any way i began my search for the prefect stick to hit this thing in the fucking head with so I could drown it. I finally found my good stick and began repeatedly bludgeoning its head. I finally knocked it out and and held it's head under water long enough to kill a fucking green beret before I was convinced that it was dead. Now keep in mind before you read the next part that at this point I haven't been trapping very long and cannot sing with all the voices of the mountains, and still am unable to paint with all the colors of the wind...so my acts are very stupid. Strengthen your brain's stupid defenses at this time as reading this may unknowingly make you more stupid. After i drowned the mink i had to carry him to the truck. Now one lil' ole' secret I had yet to learn from Grandmother Willow is that when you kill a mink you NEVER and I mean NEVER carry it by the head back to the truck. T Doing so will force air back into its lungs causing it to come back to life. This is a lesson that i learned the hard way. Well being the greenhorn I was, I picked up my haul and mink in hand headed toward the truck. About halfway there I heard a slight rustling and began to look around hoping to see a nice 10 point buck deer standing somewhere close as it was deer season and I did have my license on me and my deer rifle loaded in the truck ready to go at a moments notice. I looked and looked and saw nothing so continued to walk when totally out of chance I look down to realize that the WILD ,remember we are dealing with wild animals here, mink was starting to come back to life in my hand. Naturally I freaked out and threw the thing about 10 yards up the creek we were trapping on. Realizing what I had done(basically taken $30 and thrown it away) I dropped the other fur I was holding and began to pursue this little helpless creature. Chasing a mink while wearing hip-waders,down a gravely creek bank should be made into an Olympic sport because if you ever get to experience this you will most definitely want to make it a sport. Anyway i chase this thing for about five minutes before i get close enough to hit it with the small 22 inch shovel/trowel I am carrying. This immediately kills the small mother fucker and I hold him up to the morning sun and start to do an old Indian chant I know thanking the small creature for his sacrifice and helping his spirit journey to that big creek in the sky. After the proper death chants had been sung we loaded up the truck and went back home. The real work had only just started though as over the next month we had to skin the animals, clean all the fat off their hides, stretch them out to dry, then ship them to Canada where they would be auctioned off to places like India and other small countries. That year though the Prime Minister of Canada had pissed off the Dahlia Lama(true story folks) so fur prices sucked dick. For all that I caught that year which was 4 mink, 15 coon, 1 beaver, 10 slicktails, and 5 muskrats i only received $150. This sucks as in today's un-pissed off Dahlia Lama fur market the same load would have brought around$450-$500 dollars. Well I am done now and I will leave you with this homespun word of wisdom, "Duct tape is like "The Force". It has a "light side" a "dark side" and it holds the universe together
Our story begins one very cold January morning about 5 a.m. Now you are probably wondering what the fuck I was doing up at 5 a.m. over Christmas Break. Well to tell you the truth I was and in some small way still am, an extreme country boy. I hunt, fish, trap, and do all kinds of country type things like raising goats and horses only to watch one brutally murder the other. http://orbpoopsy.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-brothers-little-pony.html Now that you've returned from reading that story or since the only person who reads this blog is the guy who wrote that story himself, you didn't read it we shall continue. So I am up at 5 a.m. eating breakfast from eggs I gathered last night and having eggs and bacon(the bacon of course coming from this years hog that we butchered so we could have fresh jowls so we could eat the traditional good luck for the new year feast of Black Eyed Peas and Ham Jowls) getting ready to check my trap line. I'm not talking about live trap cages here people(person) I am talking about the kind of traps you think about when you think in-bred mountain man and when you think Daniel Boone fucking crossing the plains. Trappers where I am from have a bad reputation. It comes mainly from dumb fucks like this
This guys is a complete dumb fuck. Although i must give him credit for the wondefull selection of music he used to backup his slide show. That is some good ol' downhome fiddling music right thar for ya'll. Anyway leg hold traps are the easiest type to open and it's very obvious how to do it. Also if this mother fucker had asked the landowner permission to be hiking on his land the landowner probably would have mentioned the traps and the poor old man would not have had to deal with this sad emotional time for his family. Also the experiment with the carrot, that is an extremely bad example. If you want to know how bad it hurts I challenge you to set one(you can get some from me here in Tulsa as I do have several dozen here) and put your finger in it. It hurts but only for a little bit. I accidentally got my finger caught in one while setting in one of my lines but that's another story and I have gone way off track so... back to the story.
So we( being my uncles and I) set off before the sun has even come up to drive all over the beautiful Ozark Mountains to check our traps. On the way to the first line it's kind of a tradition in our closed circle of trappers to make predictions for the day as to how many of each kind of animals will be caught that day. My prediction ended up being 6 'coon 2 mink ,both buck, 10 beaver, 2 opossums, 3 muskrats, and one spare. A spare is not an animal by the way, it's just anything extra we might happen to catch like a dog, bird, bob-cat etc. So we make it to our first line and are excited to find that this mile and a half run of traps has produced 3 beavers, 2 coon, a opossum, an a mink. Now that is a very good haul for that size of line. The only sad part is that you have to carry the dead carcasses of all these animals for that full mile and a half. And with only two people that's roughly 60 pounds a piece of extra weight to carry. The one plus side to this is that you get to smell the musky scent glands of the mink the whole way. When mink get angry at something they spray like a skunk. It's always fun before we kill the mink by knocking it out and drowning it(shooting it would cause too much damage to the fur) to torment it to get it to spray at you. Many people don't like this smell but...fuck you I don't care. So we lay our haul in the back of our pickup and continue throughout the day killing small helpless animal by either means of drowning them or shooting them with a .22 caliber pistol. When we had reached our last line we had accumulated 5 'coon, 1 mink, 10 beaver, 1, opossum(Slicktail), and 3 muskrats. This last line was one I had set entirely on my own so it was time to see how well i had and done and see if my line would fill my quota. For the first half of the line it looked pretty bad I had two pullouts and one foot. If an animal gets desperate enough it will chew its own foot off to escape much like this
It's always fun to catch a 'coon with only three feet because you know that he had to be like the gummy bear thinking," I can survive with one missing foot, but two gone fuck that I'll just resign myself to my destiny and be shot in the ear hole in the morning". The last half of the line though was much better. I caught 2 cooon, 1 slicktail, and one bird and and with only one trap left i was hoping for the mink to fulfill my quota. Well I rounded the corner and boom there he was. One of the biggest, meanest buck mink I have ever seen. Ir was so big it was probably in reality a small baby river otter or something. Any way i began my search for the prefect stick to hit this thing in the fucking head with so I could drown it. I finally found my good stick and began repeatedly bludgeoning its head. I finally knocked it out and and held it's head under water long enough to kill a fucking green beret before I was convinced that it was dead. Now keep in mind before you read the next part that at this point I haven't been trapping very long and cannot sing with all the voices of the mountains, and still am unable to paint with all the colors of the wind...so my acts are very stupid. Strengthen your brain's stupid defenses at this time as reading this may unknowingly make you more stupid. After i drowned the mink i had to carry him to the truck. Now one lil' ole' secret I had yet to learn from Grandmother Willow is that when you kill a mink you NEVER and I mean NEVER carry it by the head back to the truck. T Doing so will force air back into its lungs causing it to come back to life. This is a lesson that i learned the hard way. Well being the greenhorn I was, I picked up my haul and mink in hand headed toward the truck. About halfway there I heard a slight rustling and began to look around hoping to see a nice 10 point buck deer standing somewhere close as it was deer season and I did have my license on me and my deer rifle loaded in the truck ready to go at a moments notice. I looked and looked and saw nothing so continued to walk when totally out of chance I look down to realize that the WILD ,remember we are dealing with wild animals here, mink was starting to come back to life in my hand. Naturally I freaked out and threw the thing about 10 yards up the creek we were trapping on. Realizing what I had done(basically taken $30 and thrown it away) I dropped the other fur I was holding and began to pursue this little helpless creature. Chasing a mink while wearing hip-waders,down a gravely creek bank should be made into an Olympic sport because if you ever get to experience this you will most definitely want to make it a sport. Anyway i chase this thing for about five minutes before i get close enough to hit it with the small 22 inch shovel/trowel I am carrying. This immediately kills the small mother fucker and I hold him up to the morning sun and start to do an old Indian chant I know thanking the small creature for his sacrifice and helping his spirit journey to that big creek in the sky. After the proper death chants had been sung we loaded up the truck and went back home. The real work had only just started though as over the next month we had to skin the animals, clean all the fat off their hides, stretch them out to dry, then ship them to Canada where they would be auctioned off to places like India and other small countries. That year though the Prime Minister of Canada had pissed off the Dahlia Lama(true story folks) so fur prices sucked dick. For all that I caught that year which was 4 mink, 15 coon, 1 beaver, 10 slicktails, and 5 muskrats i only received $150. This sucks as in today's un-pissed off Dahlia Lama fur market the same load would have brought around$450-$500 dollars. Well I am done now and I will leave you with this homespun word of wisdom, "Duct tape is like "The Force". It has a "light side" a "dark side" and it holds the universe together
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Home for the Holidays
I know it has been a while since I posted anything but that is because in between the last post and this one there has been a lot going on in my life. For starters iniation into Gamma Alpha Upsilon took place. This was very intense and filled with all kinds of fun activities. Also finals were going on and the holiday breaks so i haven't had much time to write anything.
While home over the holidays I re-realized just how cutoff from the outside world my hometown (if you could even call it a town, it's more like a small housing development set in the middle of fucking nowhere) is. Since moving to T-town I have grown accustom to all the fine things that living in the city has to offer such as INTERNET and CELL-PHONE SERVICE. My parents do not even have internet at their house. You walk in and its like taking a step back in time about 400 years. They still heat with a wood stove and not one of the fancy ones that is a forced air system and is ventilated throughout the whole house but one of the old types that just radiates the heat. Now in case you have never been around a real old fashioned wood stove let me explain the details of having to care for the fire lest your three year old brother should freeze to death in the middle of the night because you let it go out.
First of all you must obtain wood from somewhere. Well in the country we can't just drive to the nearest Reasors and pay for 7 bundles and actually take 14 like everyone does. We must cut the wood ourselves. That's right we have to fell the trees and fucking cut and split them into logs ourselves. And if that wasn't bad enough no-one will ever do it in the spring and summer when its warm they always want to do it when its snowing and fucking -15 degrees outside. So once you get the wood cut and split then you must haul it. This usually entails loading into a truck by hand then unloading it by hand. This doesn't sound too bad but when it's -15 outside and you start to sweat then stop working for just a minute you can literally feel the the sweat beads freezing to you fucking head. After the unloading, then you must carry it into the house. Now my parents have a flight of about 20 stairs and they live on the second floor of our house. By the time you make two trips up and down the stairs with your arms loaded with fire wood your ready to just set the house on fire and say "There now that was much easier than having to carry all that wood up here by hand. Wasn't it?" But the problem is we don't even have insurance on our house(I don't know if my parents know about homeowners insurance or they are just trying to save up money so we can buy a hog next spring to fatten up and kill in the following fall, thus ensuring that we survive the winter).
Well now that we have acquired the wood we have to start the fire. This entails scrounging around in the cold dark night for dry wood to start the fire with because remember the other wood is wet from the snow? Finally after tearing down the east wall of the outhouse we found enough wood to start the fire. But wait we also need paper so we start looking around and the only paper we have is our newspaper/toilet paper. So a big debate comes up. Stay warm and have dirty asses or be cold and have clean asses. At this point you might ask "Couldn't you just go to town the next day and get some toilet paper?" Well see the problem with this theory is that by the time we got up and hitched the team of horses to the wagon and rode into town it would be about a weeks trip and we would all have dirty asses anyway. So we take a family vote and it is 14-13 in favor of using the paper for fire. The final vote came down to Pa and he smells anyway so he figured we'd just use it for fire. Well once we get it started then someone has to wake up every three hours and check it to make sure it hasn't gone out. Well I am one of the oldest of the 25 kids so guess what? That's right i have to wake up every three hours to check the god damn fire. Which is hard because remember my parents are still living in the 1600's and don't have electricity so no alarm clocks. I guess they think that I will just naturally wake up every 3 hours to check it. Well I do now because the one time I forgot and let it go out Pa made me get a peach tree switch then used it to give me 40 minus 1 lashes.
Thank God all that's over now and I am back to civilization. Only its a bit depressing because i got a telegram(yeah they still use the telegram method where my parents live) from them saying my uncle had died in a tragic buggy accident. Apparently his prize stud went crazy when he passed a mare in heat and the ensuing site was not pretty. The telegram read something like this. "Uncle Chris dead stop Stud tried to fuck mare stop closed casket stop" I'm not looking forward to going back to BFE Missouri because i was just getting used to being back in T-town. Oh well shit happens, Uncles die in tragic buggy/horse sex accidents and life goes on.
While home over the holidays I re-realized just how cutoff from the outside world my hometown (if you could even call it a town, it's more like a small housing development set in the middle of fucking nowhere) is. Since moving to T-town I have grown accustom to all the fine things that living in the city has to offer such as INTERNET and CELL-PHONE SERVICE. My parents do not even have internet at their house. You walk in and its like taking a step back in time about 400 years. They still heat with a wood stove and not one of the fancy ones that is a forced air system and is ventilated throughout the whole house but one of the old types that just radiates the heat. Now in case you have never been around a real old fashioned wood stove let me explain the details of having to care for the fire lest your three year old brother should freeze to death in the middle of the night because you let it go out.
First of all you must obtain wood from somewhere. Well in the country we can't just drive to the nearest Reasors and pay for 7 bundles and actually take 14 like everyone does. We must cut the wood ourselves. That's right we have to fell the trees and fucking cut and split them into logs ourselves. And if that wasn't bad enough no-one will ever do it in the spring and summer when its warm they always want to do it when its snowing and fucking -15 degrees outside. So once you get the wood cut and split then you must haul it. This usually entails loading into a truck by hand then unloading it by hand. This doesn't sound too bad but when it's -15 outside and you start to sweat then stop working for just a minute you can literally feel the the sweat beads freezing to you fucking head. After the unloading, then you must carry it into the house. Now my parents have a flight of about 20 stairs and they live on the second floor of our house. By the time you make two trips up and down the stairs with your arms loaded with fire wood your ready to just set the house on fire and say "There now that was much easier than having to carry all that wood up here by hand. Wasn't it?" But the problem is we don't even have insurance on our house(I don't know if my parents know about homeowners insurance or they are just trying to save up money so we can buy a hog next spring to fatten up and kill in the following fall, thus ensuring that we survive the winter).
Well now that we have acquired the wood we have to start the fire. This entails scrounging around in the cold dark night for dry wood to start the fire with because remember the other wood is wet from the snow? Finally after tearing down the east wall of the outhouse we found enough wood to start the fire. But wait we also need paper so we start looking around and the only paper we have is our newspaper/toilet paper. So a big debate comes up. Stay warm and have dirty asses or be cold and have clean asses. At this point you might ask "Couldn't you just go to town the next day and get some toilet paper?" Well see the problem with this theory is that by the time we got up and hitched the team of horses to the wagon and rode into town it would be about a weeks trip and we would all have dirty asses anyway. So we take a family vote and it is 14-13 in favor of using the paper for fire. The final vote came down to Pa and he smells anyway so he figured we'd just use it for fire. Well once we get it started then someone has to wake up every three hours and check it to make sure it hasn't gone out. Well I am one of the oldest of the 25 kids so guess what? That's right i have to wake up every three hours to check the god damn fire. Which is hard because remember my parents are still living in the 1600's and don't have electricity so no alarm clocks. I guess they think that I will just naturally wake up every 3 hours to check it. Well I do now because the one time I forgot and let it go out Pa made me get a peach tree switch then used it to give me 40 minus 1 lashes.
Thank God all that's over now and I am back to civilization. Only its a bit depressing because i got a telegram(yeah they still use the telegram method where my parents live) from them saying my uncle had died in a tragic buggy accident. Apparently his prize stud went crazy when he passed a mare in heat and the ensuing site was not pretty. The telegram read something like this. "Uncle Chris dead stop Stud tried to fuck mare stop closed casket stop" I'm not looking forward to going back to BFE Missouri because i was just getting used to being back in T-town. Oh well shit happens, Uncles die in tragic buggy/horse sex accidents and life goes on.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Part 1
Hey guys,
I have finally started a blog and hope that you all will be interested in what I am doing. My blog will consist mainly of my adventures in the "big" city of Tulsa and the experiences during my college carrer. I was going to write my child-hood life story here but i really don't feel like it because it is pretty intense and would take way-the-fuck too long to explain it to yall (that's right i use the proper contraction for "you all" like it's going out of style). So ill start with my college carrer. Since starting at the University of Tulsa a lot of things have happened i never thought would happen i.e. getting wasted as fuck and losing my v-card to some totally random girl. Before coming to college i had never been drunk in my life (i know scheltered as fuck right) but its ok because i am most definitley making up for lost time :) I have also joined a fraternity which i will refer to as the Gamma Alpha Upsilon (that spells GAY for all of you dumb fucks out there). This is not my original idea though it was first used by one of my fraternity brothers known as Orb Poopsy. You should most definitely read his blog because it is some of the funniest shit ever. Here is the link, www.orbpoopsy.blogspot.com . If you do not find at least one of the articles on this blog funny you should be shot in the face( not really, but seriously this shit is funny). Anyway I am in the pledge stage of Gamma Alpha Upsilon and am enjoying it thoroughly. With all the hazing GAY does I am a part of each and every brother. Or have at least had a part of every brother( fucked up right). Just to make things clear though, there is no hazing watsoever that goes on in my real fraternity only the make believe one. Gamma Alpha Upsilon is the best frat ever. The bros. are all real chill and and it most definitley kicks the ass of the fraternity my brother is in which i will refer to as Kappa Upsilon Nu Theta( which is KUNT again for all you dumb fucks and i know it is misspelled but there is no C in the greek alphabet and the same character is used for Y as is used for U so there).
I know this section is really long but i have a lot to catch you up on so...
I plan on majoring in Anthropolgy(Archaeology) and minoring in geology. So far classes are well and i now have a social life (remeber i was sheltered) and am on the TU rugby team which is the manliest sport ever by the way. I plan on going to Australia this summer and then London this fall so stay tuned for those blogs in the future. My brother whom i will refer to as Law School Ben or LSB( i know sounds like LSD thats the point bro.) also goes to TU with me. I see him about once or twice a week because he is usually hanging out with his law school mates jacking each other off or what ever it is law school students do besides trying to figure out how best to rape their clients for all they are worth. Well as i sit here swithching between typing a paper about "Mending Wall" (Robert Frost should have been slapped in the face with a saudering iron) and this blog and listening to December '63( Oh What a Night) by the Four Seasons i will conclude this portion of my blog mainly because i am starting to get tired and its two in the fucking morning. Anyway stay tuned (or don't i really dont give a rats ass what you do) to hear more about The Adventures of Homeschool Tim.
I have finally started a blog and hope that you all will be interested in what I am doing. My blog will consist mainly of my adventures in the "big" city of Tulsa and the experiences during my college carrer. I was going to write my child-hood life story here but i really don't feel like it because it is pretty intense and would take way-the-fuck too long to explain it to yall (that's right i use the proper contraction for "you all" like it's going out of style). So ill start with my college carrer. Since starting at the University of Tulsa a lot of things have happened i never thought would happen i.e. getting wasted as fuck and losing my v-card to some totally random girl. Before coming to college i had never been drunk in my life (i know scheltered as fuck right) but its ok because i am most definitley making up for lost time :) I have also joined a fraternity which i will refer to as the Gamma Alpha Upsilon (that spells GAY for all of you dumb fucks out there). This is not my original idea though it was first used by one of my fraternity brothers known as Orb Poopsy. You should most definitely read his blog because it is some of the funniest shit ever. Here is the link, www.orbpoopsy.blogspot.com . If you do not find at least one of the articles on this blog funny you should be shot in the face( not really, but seriously this shit is funny). Anyway I am in the pledge stage of Gamma Alpha Upsilon and am enjoying it thoroughly. With all the hazing GAY does I am a part of each and every brother. Or have at least had a part of every brother( fucked up right). Just to make things clear though, there is no hazing watsoever that goes on in my real fraternity only the make believe one. Gamma Alpha Upsilon is the best frat ever. The bros. are all real chill and and it most definitley kicks the ass of the fraternity my brother is in which i will refer to as Kappa Upsilon Nu Theta( which is KUNT again for all you dumb fucks and i know it is misspelled but there is no C in the greek alphabet and the same character is used for Y as is used for U so there).
I know this section is really long but i have a lot to catch you up on so...
I plan on majoring in Anthropolgy(Archaeology) and minoring in geology. So far classes are well and i now have a social life (remeber i was sheltered) and am on the TU rugby team which is the manliest sport ever by the way. I plan on going to Australia this summer and then London this fall so stay tuned for those blogs in the future. My brother whom i will refer to as Law School Ben or LSB( i know sounds like LSD thats the point bro.) also goes to TU with me. I see him about once or twice a week because he is usually hanging out with his law school mates jacking each other off or what ever it is law school students do besides trying to figure out how best to rape their clients for all they are worth. Well as i sit here swithching between typing a paper about "Mending Wall" (Robert Frost should have been slapped in the face with a saudering iron) and this blog and listening to December '63( Oh What a Night) by the Four Seasons i will conclude this portion of my blog mainly because i am starting to get tired and its two in the fucking morning. Anyway stay tuned (or don't i really dont give a rats ass what you do) to hear more about The Adventures of Homeschool Tim.
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