2/23
Well, howdy fucking do.
Not having any adventures these days, so not much to write about. I would just start sprouting my opinions that don’t really matter (and I still might from time to time), bout politics and the aliens, maybe human rights or gun control, but that is never what I want my blog to be about. Current events and shit.
It’s just about my fucked up view of my fucked up daily life.
2/24
Youreadingthis I am a prototypical man-pig. I just took a leak right off my front porch. And yes I live in a neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong, no neighbors saw my pathetic penis, but now it always smells like urine out there until we get a big storm to wash it away. Then the basement floods.
That’s about all the adventure I have or today.
2/25
Ok, that was it. The bat has produced it’s last toke. I am officially out of ganja. I will surely drink more until I find a bag because I found out today I don’t have to quit. I landed a job that doesn’t require those silly pee in a cup tests. I used to always miss. The cup. My urine doesn’t work too good under stress.
But I was cruising old CraigsList and found a “painter needed” sign. (If Youreadingthis has been following long you know I am like the best painter on the east fucking coast, so he will want me of course once he sees me in action. Question will be do I want to work for him, and if so for how long?)
In the painting business, like most construction jobs, at least for me, working for the same company for years and years seldom happens. But Holy shit I need one I can stay with. that will keep me busy at least till April, then I can have a truck, child support cooled off and some more tools under me. I have to buy everything again since I had to leave it all in NY a couple of weeks ago. I could have gotten more on the bus, but man it would have been aggravating. So I just grabbed my cordless impact Dewalt, my brushes and five-in-ones mostly.
But around 830 in the morning I’ll meet my new boss, who doesn’t sound like he knows much at all about painting, and hopefully I’ll put up with him.
“How much you needing?” He asked me over the phone in a light Middle Eastern accent.
“I’d take 12 or 13 to start,” I replied. “But I wont be around long for less than 15.”
He said some normal shit about how he would need to judge my worth at 12 until I proved I’m not just full of shit about being a bad ass. The first part of our conversation was all about what a bad ass I am. All painters claim to be bad asses evidently.
3/5
Yup sometimes I get sidetracked.
I got me a new bag of goodies Thursday, but it’s taken till now to feel like writing. I lost that job the very first day. The boss wasn’t Middle Eastern after all, he was pure blooded Mexican, and had this little young Mexican with him.
“We headin to another yob.” he said. He was unloading some shit for the little Mexican to go to work. “It’s a nice dey, gona take joo to dis udder job on da outside.” I was loading in the paint, jumping right into what-can-I-do? mode. I grabbed my tools and lunch bag.My lunch bag contained two packs of crackers and probably 8 shots of Vodka in a Nestea bottle, and three cans of Coke on ice.
We met the bitch that got me fired in a bar parking lot and his woman drove and followed me and the boss to the other job site. It wasn’t much, maybe two days on the outside, maybe 3-4 on the inside. So a weeks worth of painting. The Mexican boss, George he called himself, left me and the bitch there to knock it out after leaving his ladders and drops.
The bitch looked cool as hell. 5’11, skinny, with patchy face hair like a redneck mother fucker. His woman was driving a beater pick up that looked like it was ready for the river, so I assumed they was country. First thing I find out about him in conversation was that he was from New Castle.
“My family is from out there.”I tell him.
“Oh yea?”he says. “Born and raised myself. Maybe I’d know some of your kin.”
“Hey, just call me Red.” we both nodded to each other.
“Otis.”he replied.
“So, tell me you brought the joint of the day and I’ll paint my ass off.” I said, I was out.
“Naw man. Wish I had.” he said.
“Yea, all I got is about eight shots of Vodka.” I laughed.
“No shit?” he seemed a bit disbelieving when he said, “Yea. I can’t drink and work myself.”
“I hardly ever don’t.” I said. I went on to explain how I wasn’t going to start stumbling around or nothing. Falling off the ladder, shit like that. I just liked a lunch time cocktail. It keeps me humping and helps me forget the pain.
“Do what you want.” he says. “I might have a beer or two on a Friday, but a Monday I just want to work.
Well, I rolled a back porch ceiling while he cut it in. We had to put two coats on it because of all the paint that fell off when we scraped it. The boss dropped back off a taller ladder for the eves and left. And at lunch I had my cocktail. I didn’t make such a big deal of it this time, I offered him a snort, but he said no thanks.
After my drink, and during I went back to work painting some soffit and fascia. Around the front door, a couple of windows.
And the boss shows up right when I am stretching my back out on the front lawn in the sun. I pop up and he goes to showing me the work we have to do inside. We’re walking through the house and he stops me to show me his cell phone LCD display. it says, “Hey man, I’m doing the best I can but your other man is drunk. Just letting you know.”
“Did you just send me that?” says George, smiling.
“No man.” this is where I was stupid and not thinking fast enough. I laughed and said, “why the hell would I?” We departed and he went to speak to Otis nonchalantly. I wasn’t even thinking. SNITCHING little mother fucker! I shoulda’ been.
So bitch avoids me after the boss leaves again, but I wasn’t paying any attention. I was painting this side and I assumed he was painting the other. But no. After the boss left he packed up everything and dipped out. I hadn’t even heard the bitches woman pull up to get him. But that was about the time it dawned on my pickle fucking brain.
Drunk? Otis had sent that message! I just couldn’t believe it. Snitch? Fuck.
So I called George. He answered on the second ring.
“What’s up George?” I asked. “Where’d Otis g.?”
“Mang Red, we can have no drinking on da yob.” He was laughing in a charming way.
“Aint had a drop boss.” I lied.
But he wasn’t hearing it. The bitch had spoken. Of course everything that normally goes through a man’s mind went through mine at that moment. Kill him. Set his home on fire. Torture. Every bit of it flashed through my scull. But since I’m not as big an idiot as I sometimes claim to be, there wasn’t anything I could really do but take it.
If I ever see him again though, I am pretty sure I’ll punk him out.
Meanwhile, I’m looking for another job.
3/6
I’ve basically turned into a house-boy for my wife and daughter. For three weeks now I have worked 8 hours. This is what life has resorted to since coming back from NY. I’ve got weed, a full bottle of Vodka, and food, but only because of my wife’s generosity. Not doing my pride any good I must say.
Today we laid around watching the boob tube. She went to the toilet about every 15 minutes, and we’d pause a show. She’s had some kind of I-cant-poop-blues for about two weeks now. Drinking and eating this horrible shit. All I can think is…I’m not going to live long once I start falling apart. They are going to tell me to eat this, drink that and take these, and I’m not gonna. I assume the end will be fast once I begin the true decline. And that I call a good thing.
3/9
Do Youreadingthis ever just get stoned and sit around trying to think of the next great invention or is it just me? That’s what I have done with most of my day so far. I’m watching a Louis C K tv crack session on Netflix, the episodes I missed when I was late DVRing it a couple years ago.
I would hang out with people as degenerate as myself if I knew any funny ones that would be willing. All the ones I know are already famous and have better things to do with their days.
My days are spent in total worthlessness these past few weeks. I barely clean the house, write my quips and chase jobs on Craigslist. I’m probably going to end up taking an out of town job long enough to buy some wheels, come back, spend a few weeks with my girls, making enough money to hit the beach and off I’ll go. Or at least that’s stuck in my head at the moment.
I have this urge in me to head into the most strange place I can find. Maggie Valley NC, NYC, or Wilmington NC even. Some place where writers have a chance.
But for now, I haven’t the funds to walk to the store.
3/10
Now I have a job I start in Durham NC Monday. So I’m back on a greyhound Saturday and heading down. There’s not much of a writers marketplace there, but guess where I head after that?..Going to NYC in the middle of April. Time to get my portfolio polished. Drag out my best shit and make sure it’s ready for The Big Apple.
3/17
Well it’s been a week Youreadingthis, but I’m still here and not dead yet. I am in Durham now, working on a home I am staying in. Painting, trim work, and eventually a little hardwood flooring. I came here to paint a Walmart but the boss is a business idiot I guess. He thought he had a contractor license, but doesn’t, and now he’s not even sure he can acquire one.
But I’m working anyway. On his house. I bused 200 miles to get here, and at least he put me to work.
But I have a new biggest fan! This shout out goes to Herb! He understands me better than most. I think it’s the adventures and life extremities I write about. He’s not like me, most aren’t, but he appreciates my character…good enough my man.
3/20
Sitting on a greyhound for the second time in 8 days. It’s 11 at night and the only sounds around me are the squeaking of the windshield wipers and people crinkling their snack wrappers.
My wife is having surgery Tuesday now, so she can shit again and I have to be there to take care of things, mostly my daughter. But there went another job. I wont be going back even though I told him I would. I needed a ride to the station. But we wasn’t paying me what I wanted and his brother that lived there was an ass. So not worth it going back.
3/21
Now I am in Richmond on a 4 hour layover. The riffraff around me is fun to watch. But ugly black gay men and extremely fat foreigners mostly. I finally found an older cool pothead to talk to.
Leaving Durham I had to get a ride to the station from the dude (Bill) I was working for there. I had my bat in my pocket packed with my last chunk of nugget. I was so tired from partying all weekend that when it dropped it and it fell between the seat and the door, I did try to retrieve it but couldn’t get a grip. So I decided I would get it when we got to the station and I could open the door. Well, in the process of telling him thanks, and grabbing my bags I forgot it completely. Had to text him “I realized after u left I had dropped my marijuana pipe beside your seat …not a lighter…just throw it out.”
He sent a text back thanking me for letting him know. What else was I going to do. So once again a long road trip with no weed.
Lucky for me a good friend sent me some pain killers in the mail over the weekend. Which is another funny story worth mentioning.
I have had a loose tooth for a few months now. I won’t go to the dentist because I am a dentist pussy. I was telling my new buddy about the pain I was in and he said, “I got you. I’ll send you some pills right away.” I didn’t think to advise him how to go about it, I thought he was privy.
I’m talking to him the next day and mentioned how people now a days are getting up to 15 years a pill for having them without a prescription. He’s like, “Seriously? I just put the bottle in an envelope and mailed it. I didn’t even remove the label!” I told him how stupid that was, but the package made it, and thanks to him I do have a buzz for the ride home. I just took four of them. No tooth ache. Hell no pain anywhere. And my old head is feeling right.
3/23
So the surgery is tomorrow. Today we are catchin a buzz. My newest greatest reader is commenting all over the place, and I am glad I move him so. We are leaving in 3 weeks for the great Big Apple, and I can’t fucking wait. Maybe I can get someones attention in the field of writing, or at least ideas for something new for Hollywood.
3/27
Happy fuckin Easter all Youreadingthis. Just finished coloring eggs with my daughter, and no, I don’t do that conventionally either. I hate rules or the expected way of doing things almost as much as I hate judgmental assholes. Not quite but almost.
Wife had 15 pounds of benign tumor removed on Thursday. She almost looks skinny now. No one has said where it came from. Only that it is definitely not cancer. That is amazing and such a relief. (Her mom died of breast cancer at 37)
I finally have a little work to do tomorrow. I’ll make 300 this week and send it all to that hungry entity, child support. But you know what? This year is going to be different. That curse I put on myself, breaking women’s hearts with my make em’ squirt and leave em’ hanging has about ran its course. I haven’t ruined a woman in almost two years now. So it is finally time something good happens. Either I will be discovered, or I will win enough money in Vegas at the WSOP in June to change everything. Shortly after that bullet or bus will probably get me, but I will have redeemed myself to some degree and can die with that.
Once I do die, all I want to know is why everything is so fucking crazy down here. There needs to be a reason. I really wish though, that instead of all the religious programming on a day like this, that at least the History Channel would put on an Ancient Aliens marathon.
3/28
Went to work a little late. Got there at 9, but once I got started all went well. Lady who hired me aint too bad. She liked the way I did things, and my stories. Of course I told her more than I should have, but left out prison and drugs. She’s maybe 50, fake blonde and probably horny. She was working from her bedroom on the computer, her “admin” day she said. But every chance she had she was coming around, finding more shit she needed doing, telling me to “add it up”. As usual, she didn’t have any good stories so she just listened to mine. She seemed a bit fascinated with my recent job history.
“You’re kind of all over the place.” she said.
“I just put ads on Craigslist,” I explained. “It’s free and I just post the ads in places I would rather be. Which isn’t hard. Roanoke sucks.” I made sure I said it like a comedian and she laughed and nodded. Not to be chauvinistic, narcissistic, or whatever, but I am pretty sure she wouldn’t decline.
Of course by noon I had all the prep work done and needed alcohol, so I went to the local watering hole and had two Miller Lite tall’s on the wife’s credit card, and formulated a weed money plan.
Soon as I got back I asked her if I could get a hundred at the end of the day and she said that would not be a problem. Weed money solved. So after work at five pm I went to see a man I had texted about two today. Fire shit. Plus with my tolerance level at a career low right now due to recent lack of funds, equals here I am. Tinkling at the keys. Stoned. Pure weed buzz..haven’t even made a drink yet. And heeeeeeeere I go.
Silk Pantie time.
3000 words on this here section, so I’ll start another next time.
Rojo L. Ganja knows stuff 