A friend who lives in France asked me if I had any product links for Amazon in France. I didn’t but I did apply for an amazon.fr affiliate account and they did give it to me.
Well, they will assess the account after I make three eligible sales. Until then I think I have an account. If nobody buys anything from it, then I guess I will always have it. Haha.
Anyhow, I figured I would throw a few banners up and see if there were any bites. Not that I get a bunch of French people from France on here. Mostly Quebecers and a couple of Swiss.
So there you go. If you are looking for some Amazon products in France, you can click those links and buy some stuff. We will receive a percentage of any eligible purchases but don’t worry, it doesn’t cost you any extra. We also have Amazon.com and Amazon.ca affiliate accounts on the Support Us page.
Oh hey! If you are on Whaleshares, you can earn WLS from any Amazon purchases here. If you are not on Whaleshares, let me know and we can make you a free account. Might as well earn a little cryptocurrency while you are already shopping.
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.
(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.
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.
(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.
(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.
(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.
(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?”
(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.
(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.
(This was previously posted on Steemit, but I figured I could start posting things from there on here. I own it, right?)
(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.
(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.
( 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.”
(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.”
(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?”
(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.
(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!
There is a whole nother part of this, but I’m tired. I’ll get it up here soon.
I don’t know if you’ve heard of it or not. I just heard about it a couple of weeks ago and joined up. It took a week to get my account approved, but it finally did and I started blogging there. My account is @profanereviews, but as I get rewards on there I plan on doing one up for Change The Topic as well.
It’s a pretty cool concept, as it’s a social media network built on a blockchain, so you get rewarded with Steem for posting and for curating content. It’s pretty complex, and I don’t know all the ins and outs, but basically you just find posts that you like and upvote them. Don’t waste your votes on shit though, because you only have a limited amount of voting power.
It’s been pretty good so far, and I’ve made about $20 in the last few days, which isn’t much for the work I’ve put in, but I’m just learning. Apparently if you can create consistent, original content that people like, you will gradually get more and more value out of the platform.
It’s really got me interested in writing again, so I’m posting some old reviews on there, but putting up a new story for every regurgitated one that I post. That was when I figured I would let you folks know about it. I think you can go on there and read any posts that you want, but if you want to upvote and comment, you need an account.
The accounts are free with a valid email and phone number, but just one per phone. After the first you have to either pay or use some of your rewards. I’m looking into just paying, but I know fuck all about cryptocurrency, so I will probably just build up and delegate. If it doesn’t take too long.
This was my introduce myself post, And I plan to write a bunch more, but they will probably mostly be on there, to try to build up my reputation and voting power. If you read this post, you will see that better curation is needed there and it’s up to the users to weed out the bad while upvoting the good. It’s just a side bonus that you can trade your Steem in for Bitcoin or other cryptocurrency, which you can then trade for cash, or apparently buy stuff with it. Like I said, I’m pretty ignorant about crypto, but I’m learning more every day.
Anyhow, if anyone is interested, check it out. It’s kind of neat, because everything is recorded and public, so if you make an account it’s there forever, along with anything you use the account for. Other than your email and phone number, you don’t have to use any personal information, so you can be pretty anonymous if you want to. I’ve never been the anonymous type, so I let it hang.
If you do join, let me know your username and I’ll follow you and help get you started.
I know I’m getting old, because having to work the afternoon shift totally fucks with my internal clock, and it never used to be this way. For two months every winter I have to go on nights, which isn’t bad, but when you are used to getting up at 4:45 every morning, it’s hard to stay up until after midnight.
Well, for the first few weeks it was. Then you get used to it.
You learn how to take naps, befriend the sleep app, and block out the getting ready for school noises that start at 6:45. You also learn how to wind down after work for a few hours by playing every type of solitaire and jigsaw puzzle app.
Then you switch back to getting up at 4:45, but it lasts for the next ten months, so everything is right again with the world.
That’s another sign that you are getting old.
When I was younger, a good party didn’t end until 5 AM and I had to listen to the old people tell me about how the early morning is the best time of the day. Now I consider 6 AM “sleeping in”.
What the hell happened to my youth?
I’m 46 and whenever I hear there’s a dance at the Community Centre, I hope that Travous doesn’t turn the music up too loud, because we’re only a block away and it might annoy me if I feel the slightest thump of bass.
When did I become a hermit/curmudgeon?
When did I get to the point that a gallon of (actually tasty) moonshine would still be in the house after two years, and a dozen beer could last months?
If Bugsy were out here he’d kick me square in the nuts. Then he’d drink the moonshine, go to the dance, and likely go home with at least one elderly lady.
What happened to this guy?
I suppose it’s inevitable that we all grow up sooner or later, and I guess that to a lot of people I took longer than expected, but I eventually got here. Now my fun is trying to get things to grow, snuggling in for an early bedtime and watching Youtube videos about homesteading. My priorities have changed, and while I don’t miss the old me, I do enjoy going back and reading old posts and looking at old photos. They remind me that I took a journey. It was extremely fun and contained a lot of characters that will always remain in my heart and in my fondest memories, but like all journeys must come to and end.
My new journey is proving to be fun, just with a lot more stability and planning. I’m excited for the future now, where as I used to be excited just for the present.
The way I see it is, as long as there’s still excitement, you might as well keep on living your life.