small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>catching up, part tres</strong>

Wednesday, August 18

catching up, part tres

As you know I never talk about the job much, and that’s for a couple of reasons. 1. What I do isn’t all that and folks never seem to quite understand what it is I do. Not that you all are slow and shit, but why try to explain what even I don’t understand. 2. And as a rule of thumb because I do have a blogsite and it’s read by all including my fellow employees, I refrain from talking about the Job just so as to keep down any shit that might arise. But I can say that with the onslaught of Hurricane Charlie it’s been a busy muthafucker around here. FEMA will do a thing called propositioning, it’s where when we see something big coming down the pike like a hurricane, FEMA will have other regions set to back up each other in case the shit hits the fan so to speak. Our region was positioned to back up one of the east coast regions incase Charlie decided to make a run up the coast. But as things went Charlie seemed content in fucking over Florida so we called back all the equipment and personnel sent up that way to sit shit out. But with Florida in such dire straits the director of FEMA/Homeland Security got on the horn and called for anyone that could break loose to catch the fastest thing they could to Florida and help with the recovery. So this place emptied out like the end of school. I stayed behind even though I wanted to go because I have no one to cover my desk in my absence. A lot of the shit I do is time-sensitive so to leave it for a month or so would’a really fucked things up around here. Plus even though I have no proper backup, I can cover up to four people at any given time. Why? Cause as the baggy pants wearing kids would say I have mad whack skills. Word. But with everyone gone my stress level, which is at best is “fucked up” will/is only getting higher. But it’s no big deal cause that’s what I do. But I do have to watch my temper, like when I got on the bus home yesterday, there sitting in the back of the bus was a bunch of kids, maybe in their early teens I figured. I only counted five but if noise was any judge you’d think there was a fuckin boatload. And they all had these really shrill cutting voices, especially this one little bitch and her fey boyfriend. “Like, like like like, whatever….. and you know the other day at the mall….when I get my own place it’s gonna be so cool”. On and on and on they went untill they decided their comfort level was enough that they started throwing out the fuck you’s. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck me’s, all in their shrill little voices. Now the bus driver who’s a really nice cat decided he had enough and asked em to please stop with the bad language and shit on his bus. The little cock-smoking bitches stopped for a minute then started back up again plus calling the driver muthafucker’s and shit. By this time it was my stop but I had bad enough of a day that I really considered going to the back of the bus and taking em off with me. But like everything I do I thought it over and decided that since I was hungry and shit and a grown man, it wouldn’t do for me to get taken downtown by the cops.
Cause you know that’ll be the case if I started punk slapping somebody’s bunch of pimple faced puffy titted overbearing stupid backpack wearing foul mouthed kids
"and the monkey flipped the switch"


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