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Well, I'm just gonna blow today off, workwise. Been pissing away an hour here-or-there, so's I could bolt from Ground Zero. Save a couple of days, and the burn a hole in my pocket.All that fluorescent light, air conditioning, ass-sitting, and pricking up my ears for the overseer ("Prick" being the operant word for the bald-headed, gap-toothed racist bastard)... why, it plumb withers me. Soo, my Korean trainee, is in for the next three days... and he has a bad habit of rushing through all of the incoming jobs, so I'm left with nothing all evening. Makes this a no-brainer. So does trying to find a contractor to fix the bathroom before the tiles in the shower collapse like a house of cards. It helps that I was up 'til 3AM watching the tape of the Ireland/Spain match. Double overtime. Penalty Kicks. I'm always the underdog fan, so I hate to see the dream end for Ireland. I have English friends, but Irish folks are so much more down-to-earth. Lack of an empire must have something to do with it. I've been a World Cup 'ho for the past two weeks. Of course, I was an EPL 'ho before that. And Formula One. No interest in American football (how misnamed... how often does a foot actually contact the ball?), none in basketball or baseball. Just can't hang with the whole swaggering in-yo-face commercial infested thang. So, it's been a match-a-day... gonna need a new VCR after all this. Hell of a substitute for romance, but it'll do for now. Until the month is over. SAAB brakes are in... I channeled my inner Swede, dug out every tool in the bag and got funky, majorly, for most of Sunday. To where I couldn't stand myself. Oil and goo on the outside, tsatsiki and pesto sauce on the inside. Swamp Thing. Swedish Swamp Thing. Swamp Thing, Mundiale. Actually laid hands on the tar pit that is the Trooper's engine bay, one step closer and two tools short from playing in the woods. But, My Gawd, the ticks. Months of hacking in the forest primeval, and narry a blood-sucker. An afternoon on concrete, and the fuckers were all over me. You'd think all of the garlic would send up a force field. Gaaaakk. Poked and prodded all over myself when I got back in, and even now, every twitch of a hair on my body... and I'm rooting again. Reminds me of my last dog... poor guy muta got bit once, cuz he'd bite at bugs that weren't there. Spazatiod from Planet Q. And they say they take after their "masters." Dang, I've got a sunny day, here. Ole, ole-ole-ole No Work Today. |
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