Apr 07

Is My Brain Showing? Part 2

(from Steemit)
As you may remember, when we left our hero, he was signing some waivers saying that he refused ambulatory care because there was no fucking way he was going to spend the weekend in Youngstown.

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(How I picture a weekend in Youngstown)

Actually, it was Hubbard, but who ever heard of Hubbard, Ohio, except people from near Hubbard, Ohio.

Anyhow, it didn’t have anything to do with the town, as a long-haul trucker I didn’t get paid if the wheels aren’t turning. Also, there was the newly acquired head wound that I needed to get stitched up, but as any Canadian can tell you, you don’t go to a hospital in the US if you don’t have health insurance.

So my dilemma was that I had to get the load secured and back to Canada, where I wouldn’t have to pay to go to emergency. I figured that St. Catherines would be easier to get to with the truck than Niagara Falls, so this was my plan.

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The warehouse guy came out and helped me chain down the rest of the load and I whipped over to the truck stop to weigh my axles.

They were out by a bit.

So I had to go back and get the load shifted ahead. By the time I got back to the truck stop, it was late afternoon and my head was pounding pretty bad. I also had to change my dressing and I was feeling really tired, so I thought I might grab a nap before heading north.

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(I thought they just left their dead and wounded.)

I should back up a bit and mention that throughout this time I was in contact with my boss who was urging me to go to the hospital and use his credit card. While I was screwing around he sent another driver that was passing through near me to stop in and see how bad I was.

He showed up in the truck stop washroom while I was trying to change my bandages.

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(It wasn’t this bloody, but close)

He said that Rudy was worried about me and asked if I needed help with the dressing. I said that I would really appreciate that as it is hard to work in the mirror.

He said that Rudy thought he could take me to the hospital and that he understood why after seeing my head. I guess the flap had crusted up pretty badly. He had the credit card and had already unhooked his trailer, so off we went to the hospital.

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(It wasn’t quite this dramatic.)

When we got there we had to cross a picket line because the hospital was on strike. I wasn’t too worried about it until I saw the sign that said something about scab labor and my wound festering or something like that. Thanks, that’s fucking helpful.

When we got inside there was a lady doing the admitting, a pretty nurse, and a doctor from England. I guess they were the scabs. Oh well, lucky for me they were there.

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(I sure do love pixabay.com)

When the doctor saw me, he was a little perturbed that I had waited ten hours to come in. I guess there was a bit of rust or dirt still in there and he had to cut away some of the edges that were no good, but he got it stitched up. While he was stitching me up he asked where I was from.

I told him and he stopped what he was doing and asked me what the hell was with people in Canada. I said I didn’t know what he meant and he explained that since he had been there he had met three Canadians before me. One was the nurse, one was an elderly man that had been in a car accident and broke his leg and just wanted a splint put on it. Then there was a teenaged boy that was in a hockey tournament that had his eye socket fractured in the game that just wanted to get back to the arena for the last game. He said, “What do you guys think, you’re made of steel or something?”

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(Come on, these pictures are cute.)

I said, “No, what we’re not made of is money, and if we can make it four more hours we won’t be spending thousands of dollars here.”

He said that he thought I did this at work and when I replied that I had, he told me that it was all covered by worker’s compensation. I asked how much it would have cost and he figured about US$1200. Just to keep this face pretty.

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(Like how I used red to give it that real wound look?)

All in all, it was an above average run. Oddly not the worst one I had ever been on, but definitely not the best. The way I look at it is that I saved the company $1200 by getting hurt on the job and I didn’t even get a raise.

P.S. While I was looking around I found this at http://fox8.com/2017/07/29/hubbard-ohio-factory-owner-says-she-has-jobs-but-few-sober-applicants/

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If he’s going to MAGA, he should get the fuck to work.

Apr 04

Is My Brain Showing? Part 1

(This was previously posted on Steemit, but I figured I could start posting things from there on here. I own it, right?)

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(I don’t know where she plans on injecting that love.)

I had to spend eight hours in a fucking first aid course today. It was torturous. This is the ninth time I’ve taken level one first aid and that makes me sad, but you need to have it if you want to work. As far as first aid courses go, this one wasn’t too bad, and I met a cool, old feller in there and he only lives a few minutes from me, so hopefully I get a chance to hang out with him sometime. He’s over 70 and still working full-time, but thinks he might retire and work closer to home. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s not called retiring when you just switch employers.

While I was on https://pixabay.com/ looking for free first aid photos, I noticed some that seemed oddly out of place or just funny. Like this one and basically the rest of the ones I will post here.
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(I wonder if this one shows up under WWE as well.)

Back to the story.

When the instructor told us about how you were supposed to act in a calm, reassuring manner when someone comes to you with a first aid emergency, I was reminded of a story from when I was in/near Youngstown Ohio in the late 90s.

You see, I was a long-haul trucker and was sent to this steel mill to pick up these huge rings that were going to some sort of wood product mill in Quebec to replace some roller type thing. They loaded them on me and I had to chain it down and go to a nearby truck stop to make sure the load was positioned properly, weight-wise.

I had a snipe that was bent a bit and I was having a hard time getting the boomer(bear trap) to snap, so I got the bent snipe out and did something I knew better than to do, but it was Friday and if I didn’t get the load weighed and positioned properly I would be sitting there until Monday.

For those of you that don’t know what I’m talking about with the securement, watch this video for the first couple of minutes. A snipe is a cheater bar and the thing he’s putting it on is a bear trap/boomer/binder.

When I decided to get on top of the snipe and put my entire weight on it, it spun and snapped back into my face.

Pretty hard.
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( I knew Miss Piggy was going snap one day.)

When I woke up, I was laying on the concrete floor of the warehouse beside my glasses and ball cap with the newly dented peak.

I scrambled to get up and when I bent over to pick up my stuff, blood started drippingpouring out onto the floor. I took notice and, with my body hunched a bit to keep from bleeding on myself, slowly made my way towards the part of the building that people were in.

When I got a bit closer to the main door, an employee saw me and started walking towards me. I asked him where the first aid was and he said he was a first aider and started stepping up his pace. I lifted my head up and when he looked at my head he got this freaked out look on his face and he started to turn away while yelling something like, but not limited to, “Oh my God, holy fuck. Your fucking head, man. Oh shit. Fuck.”
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(This must be the Playboy mansion first aid attendant)

And then he was gone

Now I was getting scared. I picked up my pace and started to worry about when my adrenaline ran out and I succumbed to my severe head trauma. Very soon a heavier set man was running toward me and pulling on some rubber gloves. The shithead first aider was in tow with a first aid bag in his hands.

I started screaming as soon as I saw the gloves. It went something like this: “I’M AFRAID TO TOUCH MY HEAD! PLEASE HELP ME. I THINK MY BRAINS ARE COMING OUT OF MY SKULL.”
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(Doubles as an ice dance pic as well.)

He was trying to get me into a chair against a wall full of papers tacked to corkboard, but I wanted nothing to do with slowing down. I knew that was when you were fucked. The way buddy screamed and ran away from me told me that I was running on nothing but instinct and luck. If I stopped, I would bleed out and slowly fade away. Or something like that. I was in fucking shock, how do I know what things mean?

He said that he was a first aid attendant and he needed me to calm down, but his tweaker looking sidekick was just staring at me with this horrified look and cringing, so I did what any person would do.

I looked him right in the eye and yelled in my deepest, gravelly baritone voice, “IS MY BRAIN SHOWING?”
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(That’s what happens when you flip my Nana the bird.)

He said he couldn’t see it, but he would like to have a better look, so I sat down and he used his flashlight to look around. He said it looked like my skull had a fracture, but there was no brain showing.

While he was explaining things to me, I looked right at the other first aider and started yelling something about him being the worst medical person in the world and saying that if my head wasn’t split open I would beat him until he shit himself. He started to cry and then I stopped to collect myself and apologize, but he took off. Now the real first aid guy was looking at me disapprovingly and I apologized and told him what happened as he walked me to the first aid room to wash my wound out.
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(How would this even happen?)

I told him to relay my sorrow to the other guy, but to understand that he is not someone who should be in that role. He agreed and started to call an ambulance, but I stopped him in his tracks. I explained that I needed to get my load secured and weighed before I did anything, so he handed me some waivers to sign, bandaged the flap of skin up off of my right eyebrow, and gave me a bag full of gauze pads and tape.

I was free!
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There is a whole nother part of this, but I’m tired. I’ll get it up here soon.

Feb 11

So I Was Going Through A Year Of Blog Emails

Yeah, I forgot to add the blog webmail app to my last two phones, so it’s been a while.

There were hundreds of unchecked emails, but only about twenty that I actually cared about. Those were the companies wanting me to write about their shit, or them wanting me to post something they wrote about their shit.

I responded to all of them except the eight that were absolutely a no go.

Of the twelve, one has responded back with affirmation of pure joy, but they were very good at not showing any emotion at all.

Coincidentally, they were the ones that I was most intrigued by. Mostly because of their offer. They were willing to give me a credit on their client’s website if I wrote about the product.

It is a site called Paperless Post.

They do e-cards and that sort of thing.

You can get simple.

Hey, if you’re going to drop a bomb on someone, make it a good one.

But why not go all out? They also have fancy shit.

As I looked around the site, I realised that I had absolutely no use for any of the products at the moment, but didn’t feel right about getting their hopes up and then saying I wasn’t interested.

You also can’t tell someone that you will write something for them and then take months, or most likely years, to actually get around to it. Especially when you command the attention of more than dozens of people.

So I have decided that I will let you all spend my credit frivolously.

That’s right.

Frivolously and with wanton abandon.

  1. Go to Paperless Post and pick out anything from their site, or I can pick something for you. (take a screenshot or get the name)
  2. Compose an email to birdman@changethetopic.com
  3. Send me the info and the email address you want the card sent to.
  4. Wait.
  5. Let me know what you thought of the lavish gift in a reply to the original email. Scale of 1-10 should be fine.
  6. At the end, we will tally up the site and collectively do a review.

They said the credit will be there within the next three days, so when it goes in, I will start the shitshowfestivities.

Birdman

P.S. Bonus points for creativity.

Dec 12

Dean

Chapter One – After Birth

The first thing Dean remembered was opening his eyes and feeling the sun’s warmth on his gloopy fur, while noisy things sped quickly by him and his mother. They were big things. Much bigger than him or his mom.

The second thing was his mom licking the rest of the amniotic fluid off of him. Dean didn’t know it was called amniotic fluid, I added that in there, because I do my research. There’s actually a lot of things that Dean doesn’t know, as he is a mule deer. I am just adding them in, because that’s what I do.

He tried to get up on his feet, because he felt it was expected of him. He was nervous about staggering around so close to those whizzing things, but something inside of him said that he had to learn to walk. It took him about three minutes, but he finally stood there on his shaky legs and tried a few steps.

He asked his mom what the giant things were, but she was laying back down and moving her legs around. Something was coming out of her, but it wasn’t afterbirth. Dean watched in horror for what seemed like ten minutes. It looked like a wetter, blacker version of Dean. Dean then realized that he was going to be a brother.

This was amazing news to him. He was going to have someone to learn about life with. Someone to frolic in the meadows and play little pranks on their mom with. Someone to help him track down their dad with. He must be around here somewhere, right?

As Dean watched his mom clean off his new sister, he felt at peace with the world. He couldn’t have been born on a warmer, sunnier day. Life was going to be good; he could feel it.

When his sister was all licked off, and was trying to get moving on her own, Dean watched his mom push out the placenta and then he asked her about the big whizzing things again.

“I don’t know what they are, but they mostly stay on those grey strips of land.” She explained.

“Can they hurt us?” Dean asked.

“Oh yes. I have seen them hurt many deer when they walk out on the grey strips of land. They are very hard to stop.”

“Then why would you give birth to your babies so close to the grey strip of land? That seems dangerous”

“There are many things that hurt us. Some of them, such as coyotes and bears, don’t like coming near the grey strips of land, because they get hurt too. We are very vulnerable at this time of year. I’m weak from giving birth, and you’re weak from just being born.”

Dean thought about it, and figured his mom was most likely right. She was probably two years older than him and had lived this long.

As Dean walked a little, and felt the strength coming into his legs and body, he grinned at his sister wobbling around. He went over and rubbed against her to give her a bit of support. He was glad that she had a big brother to lean on during these hard times and he wondered if he looked that funny when he was learning to walk.

He tried to communicate with her, as he did with their mother, but there wasn’t very much going on behind her glassy eyes. She just stared blankly at him.

Perhaps she just needed some time to adjust to her new life. After all, he was almost fifteen minutes older than her.

“Will she get smarter as she gets older?” Dean asked his mom.

“She might, but judging from the look in her eyes, she didn’t get enough air for her brain to fully develop. I think it happens sometimes with twins. Mine was like that too”

It was right about then that Dean noticed another fawn standing up a short distance away. Wow! there are more of us here. As his mother dozed off a bit, he tried to get the attention of the other deer, but there was a horrible noise beside them. By the time he noticed his sister it was too late. A whizzing thing smashed into her and she went sliding down the grey strip of land.

Dec 11

My Next Adventure

I’ve been thinking about writing a book for a long time now, but I’m quite lazy and become daunted by the thought of sitting down and writing a whole book at once.

So I figured that I would write it a chapter at a time on here. It would probably give me more incentive to actually do it, rather than drive around in a snowplow just thinking about for the next few months and forgetting about, like the rest of my great ideas.

Keep in mind that this will just be the rough draft, and that I am always open to constructive criticism, so if you see ways that I can improve, please let me know.

I’m on nights for the next month and a half, so this should help me use up some of my mornings that have been so far wasted on games and lounging.

If you find that you do enjoy the story, please subscribe to the blog so that you will get each chapter emailed to you. Then you don’t even have to click on the link or any other strenuous tasks.

Thanks,

Birdman

P.S. I also like to encourage sharing. It’s the selfish, narcissistic asshole in me.