Sep 30

The Summer of our Content (or, Shit’s About To Get Personal)

I want to take a moment to thank all of you for reading this blog, especially the people who actually subscribed to it. It’s a pretty big rush when people start messaging me to say they like my writing. It’s also very humbling to learn to do something while random people are critiquing as you learn, which is why I started posting on my Facebook. I figured if my work was going to be graded, it should be graded by people I know and trust. I know my friends wouldn’t get on there and say my writing is pure shit, but I also know that they aren’t going to keep reading if it is.

When I started the blog, I was looking for somewhere to write things down while I was waiting to get loaded or unloaded, and I was tired of Facebook. I got all excited when Google+ came out, and I could put up any stati (Our way of pluralizing status) that I needed to, but I had already started the blog and really liked writing actual stories. I now wish I had done some creative writing in school, but as most of you know, I wasn’t there much.

Anyhow, after my first post I noticed someone from the UK liked it, and I thought it was weird that people just happened upon it, so I started checking out the stats for the page. First day there were 4 views, and then usually over 30 until I posted it on Facebook the first time, 108 that day, and so far, it’s my biggest number. I realize that it was just everyone reading the previous posts, but I don’t care, because I’m an attention whore. That said, I realized that I couldn’t keep my real name up there, because some stories have a lot of truth to them, and while I don’t mind my friends knowing some things, I don’t need strangers being able to put a name or a face to the words.

I feel I’ve yammered on enough now, but I just wanted you all to know how good it makes me feel to know that people are liking this, and it gets me excited (not to the point of ejaculation, but very close) to see people sharing my stories on their pages, liking posts, and most of all, commenting. I thrive on the interaction, with everyone, and wish I had more time in the day to sit at the computer and write silly shit down, and properly respond to comments.

Now on with the story.

As I was feeling the chill today, I was reminded that summer is basically over. It’s been the best summer I can remember having because I am used to spending my summers working, or sitting by the phone, and waiting for work to call. That was one reason I left the patch, another would be that I was terribly homesick. I left here in 1999, and came back usually once or twice a year for a visit, but never got to spend more than a week or two, but last spring I had had enough. I began passing out when I would laugh, cough or sneeze too hard, so they started to do tests on me. I don’t know how many tests you’ve had done, but these were taking months to complete. Months of not working or having enough money to go drinking and other fun things that you do when you’re bored in the oilfield.

I then started getting depressed at having to sit in the apartment alone, no family around me, most of my friends 4000 kms away and I had an addiction to Evony. It is really a great game to kill time with, because you don’t have to pay to play it, there are a lot of cool people to chat with and it goes 24/7. I’ve made some great friends from that game, and I got to meet one in person this summer.

After I quit feeling sorry for myself, I decided that I was moving home. It was the worst feeling, going into the hospital constantly, not knowing if you had a tumour, an aneurysm or heart problems, and being totally alone. No one waiting for you to come out of the stress clinic with your chest all covered in wires and pads, and drive you home, because you don’t trust yourself not to start coughing on the road. Having to tell your family what was happening in a manner that wasn’t going to freak them out, even though you are completely scared inside because you wonder if you are going to not wake up the next time it happens.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t have any friends there, I did, but they had jobs and lives to live too, and not all of them lived in town. My one saving grace was my rekindled friendship with one of my oldest friends. Thanks to Facebook and MSN Messenger, I had a friend to talk to every day. It was that what kept me from a mental breakdown, and I don’t think I ever properly thanked her, so I’m doing it now. Thank you Ang. For being there when I needed a friend the most, and for giving me something to hang on to. I hope you know that I’ll always be here if you need me, and if you didn’t know it, you do know.

While I was clinging to my sanity, I was checking out Plenty of Fish, to see what the prospects were looking like back home. I came across a new profile of someone I had admired from afar for a few years, but had no idea she was single. I contacted her to see what was happening, and explained my situation. She was quite understanding about it, and I’m elated to say that we shall marry on the 9th of June next year. I have finally met my soulmate, and I am locking that shit down for good.

This brings me to my original story via the weirdest segue in the world… my amazing summer. Even though I was working an average of twelve hours a day, I feel like I packed more quality into this summer, than ever before. I had a reason to rush home after work now. There were people that were happy to see me, and I them. It seemed like we were doing something every weekend, and got to spend quite a bit of time at the cabin (one of my favourite places) as well. Then, in the middle of it all, we got to take a romantic, whirlwind tour of Canada’s east coast, which was the highlight for me. That was where I met my friend from Evony, (Shout out to Duke and his beautiful family) and I also got to meet a dear friend of my better half, and his better half.(Thanks you two, can’t wait til next summer). There were very few days where I could just lounge around, but it didn’t matter because I had a life again.

I played ball, picked fiddleheads, visited family and friends, and reconnected with the place I love most on earth… home. I’m finally home. Just the realization of that gets me all choked up. I don’t know why I was gone for so long, but I know it made me understand how important family and friends are, and it makes me truly appreciate what I have now. I know I haven’t got a lot of money or fancy things, but I wouldn’t trade my life for anybody else’s, and I know what’s out there.

I love you baby, and I love our life together. Every part of it. I also love puffballs and morels, but I didn’t get any this year, so I expect you to put your feelers out there for next year and find us the honey hole. Not that honey hole, you punch of perverts.

Sorry for the length of this whore,

Birdman

Sep 29

Copperfield’s

A friend wanted some Copperfield’s stories, so I shall regale you with the story of my nineteenth birthday, but first I’ll let the uninformed know about the phenomenon that was Copperfield’s.

Every small town has a version of Copperfield’s. You know the place…good food, ten-cent-wing night and lots of booze.  It transformed from a family restaurant into a dance club from Thursday to Saturday. There was hot, charismatic waitresses and bartenders, big, huggable bouncers (well, I’m sure someone hugged them) and a great DJ that put the cock in cocky (and anything else with two tits and a heartbeat). It was a very comfortable place to drink for an entire generation, and my second home for a few years.

Let’s do a little history now. When I was sixteen or seventeen, I worked as a busboy and bar porter there, and it facilitated my foray into manhood. I partied with the rest of the staff every night after work, and I felt like part of a greater thing. I thought that putting on that Copperfields uniform meant that I was part of the elite team. People didn’t mess with you if you had that shirt on, because everyone had each others back. Nobody messed with the waitresses, without getting their head bounced off the center post of the front door as they were being “escorted” out, or getting surreptitiously punched by a busboy as the doorman was carrying them across the floor. You just felt safe there (or at least I did), but alas, everyone has to move on sometime.

Fast forward a couple years to my nineteenth birthday. I had a double shot of Jack Daniels and a couple of beer for lunch, followed by half a dozen rye and gingers for dessert. I then headed for Copperfield’s for supper and some libations. Because it was my birthday, and the fact that I knew the staff, I was treated to several happy birthday shooters, but I didn’t puke until Ferg gave me the “Formula One”(Thanks pal, but I still say it was Scope).

So there I was, happily shit faced, and sitting with a friend, when I decided I might need to see a man about a horse. As I swerved my way to the washroom, a small guy, about my size, said: “How’s it going there, Goggles?”

I was taken aback.  Being one who was never into taking shit from anybody, I replied: “That’s really cool to make fun of drunk people that have obvious physical impairments. I guess when you don’t have the mental capacity to be a decent human being, these things make you feel good”.

While he was trying to comprehend the insult I had directed his way, I turned around and set my glasses on the table and remarked: “The goggles are off now, asshole.”  That was when his rather large-necked, tough-looking friend stepped in and explained how I was going to have to fight him first to get to his much smaller friend.  Right about then, one of my bouncer buddies came and picked me up, reminding me that I was five and a half feet tall, and as much as I claimed invincibility, that I was in fact mortal.  That didn’t stop me from telling Big Neck, that he was lucky the bouncer had me, which seemed like the proper thing to say at the time.

Actually, it was the exact opposite of the right thing to say at the time.  Big Neck ran up and started smashing me about the head and neck with his club-like fists. Luckily for me, my friend could walk fast and Big Neck seemed unable to walk and punch at the same time, so the blows weren’t as hard as I thought it would be. I cheered joyously when the other doormen threw him out, and came back to give me a stern talking to, while explaining that he was waiting outside, and I had best go sit down and wait for my ride.

The next morning I woke up in the back of my buddy’s pickup.  Seems I slept through the rest of my time at the bar, the after party and the ride home.  I’m still indebted to my friends for preventing my early demise, and most of all to Joey, for making sure I made it home safe, and not letting any hot chicks rape me while I was too drunk to remember it.

Make sure you practice your long division,

Birdman

Sep 16

Wing Night Is Not For The Weak Of Heart, Or Stomach

I think my body tried to explain something to me last night, as I was cramming the second pound of wings along with the second pint into my maw.

I, of course, paid it no heed. I mean what the hell does it know? I’m the brains of this here operation, and I’m not taking orders from some bloated, dough-like bag of guts that thinks one pound is enough. I’m a man, and no one is going to tell me what to do. Right? Who’s with me fellas?

Just to show it who’s wearing the pants, I figured I’d DQ something different, and tried to stuff a chocolate dipped cone in for dessert, which is probably what started the fight. Needless to say, I overdosed on Zantac and was apologizing profusely to my rotund, but extremely wise body in between meat dreams.

I’m sure this weekend will result in me getting some pictures on this here internet thingy. Any requests? I’m not too frightened of copyright infringement, so pick something good. Like really, what can they possibly do to me?1)famous last words

It’s also my stepdad day with the girls tomorrow. I’m giving them the choice of either the movies, the fall fair or Chapters. I hope they pick the fair, but I’m sure they will go for the fucking bookstore. Why did I have to fall in love with a girl that has smart kids that want to read and shit? I guess it’ll pay off in the end, but I’m really looking forward to some taffy and making fun of the dirty carnies. Oh how I hate the carnies, with their brown teeth, mullets and carefree, gypsy lifestyle.

Make sure you whip your hair,

Birdman

P.S. Did you notice I put a picture up?

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. famous last words