Blogger Burps

I was pretty much forced to switch to the new version of Blogger, which immediately burped and made me unable to post in my usual fashion.

I am experiencing password difficulties.

I am still working on the problem.

Thank you for your patience.

Quote of the day

“Is he the guy that don’t speak well English?”

In the bedroom.

I have always been somewhat picky about what goes on in the bedroom.

Not that way…….pervert….(Well, maybe.)

I just have always considered the bedroom to be a place of sleeping, reading, making love, and hiding things from the children.

The Mrs. sees the bedroom as a place for relaxation of any kind and the bed as a sort of padded play area for man and beasts. I think that if we had a hot tub she would want it in the bedroom right next to the bed so she could just jump out of the tub and into bed without all that mucking about with towels and things.

She also likes to watch TV in bed. This is something that can make me nuts because the yelling and sirens from that tiny speaker disturb my humble slumber. She refuses to wear headphones, so I end up wearing earplugs while she converses with the characters on the small screen and gasps when the plot thickens and cries when they set the monkeys free. (The monkeys are a whole post in themselves.)

She reads in bed, but this does not bother me. I consider reading in bed as natural as eating cookies or looking at pretty women with large breasts.

We have a phone next to the bed. (On her side) We have a “no calls after 8 o’clock” rule that no one pays any attention to. Someday *I* am going to answer the phone at 9 PM and say something along the lines of, “If this is not an important call, and by important call I mean important to me, then please be prepared to be scolded and maybe even yelled at for being an inconsiderate asshole.”

In order to go back to sleep after being disturbed, I often imagine myself turning on the TV at 4 AM and eating breakfast in bed. A big honking breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes would be good. Slurping my coffee and dropping greasy grits on the sheets would certainly make a statement.

But by morning I have regained my sanity and rejected the idea. If I ever did anything like that I would be wearing breakfast, cleaning the bed, and sleeping in the doghouse until I got her to forgive me or hell froze over. (Which ever came first.)

Frankly, if I were ever stupid enough to do such a thing, I would be searching hopefully for the expiration date for hell…..

General work rant

I work for my living. I have worked for many years. I am lucky in the fact that I am now working for a company that thinks its people are an asset and should be nurtured instead of just disposable jobsite fodder.

But the company does have expectations. I don’t think this is a bad thing, but some of the newer guys seem to think that the company should do just about everything for them and then some.

The news guys seem to think that they are automatically entitled to all the things (tools, benches, horses, ect.) that the guys that have been with the company for years have. What they don’t get is that most of these things we worker bees paid for out of our own pocket.

I have my own toolbox on wheels. I paid for it, I have my own lock on it, and I don’t share it with others. I lock company tools in the box, but those tools are signed out to me and I am responsible. I never even once thought that the company should provide me with this.

When one of the newbie’s informed me that he felt that only he and his other box mates should have keys to the box the company supplies, I came unglued. If these guys can’t share, then they can buy a box of their own.

Another guy that we hired is always telling me that he was quite the hero on some other job in some other state. Too bad he can’t seem to do much productive work for this company in this time and place. He is also the first to stop me and tell me how he thinks things should be, wasting my time as well as his own, and lowering his productivity even below his already abysmal levels. Then he tells me that he thinks I don’t like him.

What in hell does that have to do with anything? If I had to like the people that I work with, then I would be always unemployed. I actually like very few people and the kind of people that are in construction are usually the kind of people that I make fun of in my spare time. I do like my job. That seems far more important.

What I am getting at is that this company has expectations of the people that work for it and that most of the people that we have been hiring act like they have never had expectations placed upon them before. They want a paycheck, but they don’t want to have to actually produce anything for it.

It’s lots more fun to show up and socialize for most of the day and complain about everything. Work just seems to interfere with social hour.

To hell with that! I want more out of my life than just collecting a paycheck. I want to be proud of the work that I do and feel like I have contributed more to the future than the taking up of space and wasting of resources.

The plot thickens

The plot thickens……

The Drunk Teen has graduated to drugs.

He is not even trying to hide his behavior.

He is pissing away a fine private education in order to scramble his brains.

It just goes to show you; you can lead a child to knowledge, but you can’t make him think.

We staged an ‘intervention’ and explained there that will be consequences for his actions. Now we wait to see if he actually cares enough to change his behavior.

The boy even shed a tear.

I will believe that he changed when I see it. We are giving him the opportunity, but he has to do it.

Bah humbug

I have not been posting because I hate the world right now.

Have a crabby day!

Teen behavior

I think that the teenage condition should be treated like a disease.

At this age they are difficult to deal with and even more difficult to be around.

I am sure that if I had a supply of sweet young females around they would be attentive and polite. I don’t and they aren’t.

At this age they are far more interested in doing things and chasing things. Like wild animals in a pack they would flock to the malls to exhibit herd behavior and practice mating rituals while extorting parental units for more money on order to all dress alike. They call it ‘fashion’, I call it bovine behavior and depressing as hell.

Getting a coherent sentence from one of them is harder than pulling teeth from a crocodile while swimming in oatmeal. Getting the other to stay in one place for long enough for his car to cool off is almost that hard. (I finally managed by giving him 2 flat tires and stealing his coil wire. That caused him to stay home ALL WEEKEND!)

Say What?

Overheard this week;

“Didn’t you hear that STOP sign?”