Carpet Diem

I pulled up some carpet in a house we were renovating today, it was covered in three years worth of rat terds.

Fish man really pisses me off slash creeps me out. I repsect the guy for stealing George's (evicted former co-worker) clothing and I respect him even more realizing now that George is related to him somehow. George and his girlfriend are looking for all of us that cleaned out their apartment to "kick our asses". However, the Fish Man has these buggy eyes and I can't understand a fucking word he says, which is probably for the better ebcause today I caught the phrase "ramming it in ehr ear" out of one of his conversation's with Terry. Fish Man and Terry talk back to the singers on the radio. We listen to smooth R&B all day long. The singer will lament her lost love, Terry will call back it is because she did not make certain orifices available. Today a fattie hoochie passed on the street that Fish Man and Terry found the need to shout at. They turned as she looked and unluckily for this guy, I was in the right hand window, closest to her. Conversation that followed:

Fish Man: Scale of 1 to 5?
Terry: I give her 8. Got to give her at least 8. Not a 10 by my reckonin'
Fish Man: Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell no.

In the tradition of the Sound of Music, here are a few of the Fish Man's favorite things:
Watching me work, loitering, watching Terry work, incorrectly and incoherently telling me what to do, drinking, eating turkey legs, drinking wine, stealing homeless men's clothing, borrowing money, stopping everything he is doing and everyone else is doing to tell a terrible joke, discussing other's sex lives, mispronouncing my name, turning up the radio, taking breaks, shouting the following phrases instead of working "whoooooooooeya", "well I'll....", "hoo doggies", "aaaaaalright". FUCKING GET TO WORK FISH MAN! Yeah, I said it, I hate the fucking Fish Man. I know a lot of people piss and moan about the incompetent people they work with, and I totally hear that, you are completely right to complain. Let me explain for a moment that most of you get the pleasure of working with professional grade idiots. they thrive in an office environment where their stupidity can be masked and they can survive on crumbs for years with basic minimal social and business skills. My associates on the other hand, have ZERO other life skills or redeeming factors. NONE. They are at the core a waste of resources and human life and everyone's time. I understand the conservative social position after spending summers in these positions.

Stuff Like dat Der

I don't really feel like trying to be hilarious tonight, but I will try anyway, for the kids.

Terry is my associate at work. He uses the phrase "stuff like dat der" to reference many things at work and it could possibly be known as his catch phrase. This is acutally better than our boss, who steals the Little Rascals catch phrase of "otay". Now, I'm not sure if he's just a Rascal's fan, if he has a speech problem, or he just thinks that is how you say "okay" because he uses it ALL the time. I mean all the time, when doing business, when talking to me, and when talking to his family. Let us return to Terry's more original verbiage. I also have a problem with his catch phrase. Stuff like dat der hardly ever refers to anything that is in our immediate presence. I paid attention recently during one workday as to what exactly Terry would preface with stuff like dat der and compiled a list, in chronological order, as to what stuff like dat der we encountered in conversation during work hours:

Tylenol PM, waking up several times in the middle of the night, drive by shootings, roofing nails, having sex with your best friend's wife, not paying one's rent, the Blue Moose's hamburger steaks, Roy and Ricky's hamburger steaks, baseboards, Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, the KFC buffet, being sued by my Dad, screen doors and tomato vines.

Note: I am not making fun of Terry's speech pattern, I am just trying to adequately recreate what he says to recreate the scene.

Why do I not feel like making the usual effort to entertain my readers this evening? I have not been feeling the flow in the past week or so. The big guy has just been feeling a little bummed for little apparent reason. I can't explain it, but it could possibly be anxiety regarding the final year of college to come and the challenges that it brings. All I can be really sure of is that I've been listening to a lot of Billy Joel and Reckless Kelly as of late, if that means anything, but at least I can be sure of it.

I Hate a Cheap Screw!

These were the words my boss spit out in disgust when trying to construct a railing on the house we are currently constructing. Our associate, Bobby, echoed these sentiments explaining how you spend so much money on taking them out to dinner, it really is a damn shame. This should sum up the miscommunication and mindset that exists in our workforce.

A Portrait of William as a Young Man
Last night I likened my brother's blogging skills to the writing abilities of James Joyce. Crazy Brian toned the comparison down to Joseph Heller, but I stand by placing my brother next to the greatest author in history. Note my copying of his sectional titling in this blog.

The Fish Man's New Clothes
The continued saga of George's (the evicted fellow) clothing. He came to visit Terry and blame him (the third person to be blamed for this incident). Terry then informed Bobby to be on the lookout for George. Bobby then suggested that upon sight of George he would run him down without honking, so he wouldn't even know it was coming. Eevryone then voiced their anticipation of the winter season when the Fish Man would be cruising the streets in George's brand new Carhartt and leather jackets (there was some debate on if it was real leather). Then it was discovered that George's Indiana Jones hat was in the truck and everyone found the need to model it. Also, I was informed that the Fish Man is named such because his father sold fish in Suffolk back in the day. This seemed to make sense to everyone else except me, someone out there tell me I am not alone in my confusion.

We eat lunch everyday, and I mean everyday without fail, at the Checkers Family Restaurant in Windsor. We have our own table. The waitress has our drinks sitting out before we arrive at noon. She knows us all by name and Terry orders a Bubba burger, but maintains his health with a side salad that is drenched in cheese and two packets of ranch dressing. Terry finishes the meal by throwinga wad of one dollar bills on the table, leaning back (which is a feat for him) and resting his sweet tea on his stomach.

It Always Comes Back to the Leaf
A recent recording of a reggae version of Life Less Ordinary on the Carbon Leaf message boards contained an onstage promise from Mr. Barry Privett himself of new material being written and recorded in August and a possible Fall release of new tracks. While I am now weary of BP's promises after patiently waiting 18 monthes for Indian Summer (well worth it) I chalk that experience up to their label shopping and have fully put my faith in the boys from Virginia to welcome me back to school with some hot new singles and possibly play them at the September shows I am planning to attend in Va Beach and Chapel Hill.

In the End, Its Just Me
The job and lack of friends around this summer has me sort of bummed with my situation, but I am usually too tired from work and summer basketball league to notice during the week. I'm beginning to average a 10:15 PM bedtime. So everything kind of sucks and I'm in a bad mood a lot around here with both my parents and I realizing that its about that time in life when I live on my own, but this summer's circumstances did not allow this. Monotony and loneliness, someone come break it.

Truncated...

The last post posted itself before I was done with, but as my first longer attempt had been erased by an automatic reboot, I was not about to go back and try to correct this problem. My apologies. I just got around to reading some comments on my earlier posts and would like to take this time to address some of the issues presented. True, I will someday be forced to revert to playing the character of Nathaniel and again, it is true that some significant others have come to embrace this name for obvious reasons. Also true is my undying love for fatties that Rod has made reference to. Ben, I will accept this gradual crossover as long as you contain to applicable situations i.e. the ER, marriage license, and when meeting Jeff Tweedy.

Check out what my brother is up to in Baghdad keeping his ears to the ground over at http://triumphantmoose.blogspot.com . He is a hero and all should take note of his very real and oft times hilarious accounts of this war.

This past weekend Erin came to visit and we attended a gathering of some of my more redneck acquaintances. These fellows brought out a .40 caliber rifle while drinking heavily and began to toy about with it and took it into the backyard. She turns to me and says "I thought firing a gun within city limits was illeg....BANG BANG.....BANG BANG BANG....nevermind". A funny little moment of Suffolk culture. The evening was completed by my burning tires pulling out on the road at the armed demand of the host, who was shirtless and blad with a confederate flag belt buckle that proclaimed his status as a "Bad Ass".

Last week at work we were lucky enough to evict a few people and raid their belongings. Our associate "the Fish Man" made off with a new set of clothing, however the tenant he relieved of said items was later informed he had them, so I am waiting on an update regarding Fish's status as a living being. Tomorrow morning we meet the Sheriff for another eviction, so I believe I should rest up for this adventure.

Haven't Seen For Awhile

I returned to these glorious United States of America on June 31 at 9:18 PM local time (3:18 Dublin time) at the Atlanta airport into the waiting arms of...well, following a "Catch Me If You Can" chase around the terminal...into the waiting arms of Miss Erin Woods. I spent the next week with her and my other dear FU friends in Greenville enjoying a fabulous celebration of the Fourth of July and an unhealthy number of games of Super Tennis.

Back to the Ireland thing. This was a fantastic trip which I shouldn't need to explain. Hopefully I have told everyone of the hilarious details of this international excursion so I will try and avoid redundancy (however redundancy in Ireland means downsizing). Other fun words that the Irish throw around: "Craic"=fun, a good time Ex-Last night when I passed out while it was still light out was a lot of craic. One town in the countryside which boasted the world's larget singles meeting festival had a slogan that read "We're here for the craic, the women and the beer!" My attempts to obtain a t-shirt that displayed this were not successful. Check the profile for a sampling of the pictures I took on my journey.

I returned home for an evening and then travelled with my parents to the beach where we spent a hot, sun-soaked weekend.

Work began on Monday. What can I say about this. It is 95 degrees outside. The inside of a house that has no airconditioning unit forms a heat trap. This is not even to mention the heat that is intensified when one spends the day on the roof under the sun with the shingles melting below your feet. At the end of everyday I look as if I may have simply been spending the last 9 hours in a pool fully clothed, if only that were the case.