I was so busy getting this site together

I forgot to write anything yesterday. It’s not because of laziness, or the fact that I thought having a delicious turkey dinner and a good skeet shooting session (not the same as when the rappers say it) with most of my family, was more important than you. I also don’t want to say that after dinner, going to a great rock show with my baby and friends, where we had drinks and fun, and then peed in the parking lot of…I’d better not say, takes precedence over my need to let you know what’s going on. It doesn’t. I just plain old forgot. I do that sometimes, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

Remember an earlier post about how I forget all kinds of shit? Well, it’s true all right, true enough that a few days after that post, my boss gave me a blast for not remembering some bills and log sheets I was supposed to hand in. I understand that he has to do it, so I bit my tongue and accepted my punishment, but it’s not going to help at all. I also don’t know why he would wait until the month before I’m done to start getting mad at me? I guess maybe he’s been getting mad at me for a long time, but just finally had enough of my bullshit, and now needed to get it off his chest. He’s actually a really good guy to work for and hang out with. He puts up with a lot of shit from drivers, probably because he knows how pissed off we get with our jobs, and just doesn’t feel the need to get into fights with us every day. He’s also really good about thanking me, and I assume the rest of the guys, whenever I get a job done, and accept the next duty, and that means a lot to a person. I’ve never been a money driven guy, even when I go out west, it’s not for greed. I just want to be able to sleep at night, without worrying about how much I owe, and how I’m going to pay this or that and who’s going to be knocking on my door from a collection agency. I’ve been through all that, and I don’t want to go back there. So a bit of appreciation goes a long way with me.

Another nice thing about my job is that we can bank hours for use at a later time. It’s pretty sweet to be able to take lots of time off and still get full paycheques. Oh yeah, the time off thing is pretty sweet too. We just write our names down on a calender when we want days off, and as long as everyone else hasn’t asked for the same day, there isn’t a problem. When you look at the job this way, it doesn’t seem like a bad deal, and for the people who like driving in the city, it’s not. I unfortunately hate being in the fucking city every day, so that trumps everything. I’m so sick of hating people all day long, rocking back and forth until the voices quit whispering “murder” and getting tension headaches from constantly gripping the wheel and vibrating. I don’t want to pull a Michael Douglas in “Falling Down”, but believe me, I think about it daily.

One really cool idea that I have is to hire people in anger management courses to stand at the off ramps with guns and wait for asshole drivers. They will have the legal right to pull these dickheads over, drag them out of their cars, and beat them until they shit their pants. Then they may go about their business with a warm, tacky seat for the rest of their commute. If the person didn’t oblige, then they would be able to shoot their tires out and then kill the driver. Come on, if you are driving like an asshole, you need to pay the piper and if you refuse to pay, then death is your only option. I also think these altercations should be televised globally to raise funds for paying the much needed “enforcers of justice”. I bet after people watched that show, there would be some courteous sons of bitches on our roadways, and in any other cities that threatened to bring us in for a trial run.

Anyhow, I have put in my notice at work, and will be done at the first of November. I will then begin my cross-country trek to the northwest. I have mixed emotions about that trip, because I don’t like spending that much time away from my girls. Gotta run now, the Norwood fair beckons.

I love you long time,

Birdman

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