Year End Wrap Up.

Year End Wrap Up.

Dear Reader…

Allrighty people, sorry that I haven’t written for some time, but I figured I would catch you all up on the random, slightly strange and sometimes good things that happened since the last blog. So here are the things of note in no particular order.

I had the worst day of the year one Friday, when I ran over a buss stop, I figured it would make the news, but oh well, it didn’t. Oh yeah I also broke a small piece of glass off my aviary, broke up again with Mexican Girl, (long story) everything I touched turned to shit that day also, in general it was just a historically bad day. That day started off waking up a full hour late for work.

I spent Christmas alone, and in doing so I consumed a half gallon of crown royal, no one even called me…you suck people.

I took out some more clients and made it a hunt of the life time, got there grandson a very bad ass 7 point cull buck, and the son a turkey, and the client him self a very nice 10 point. They where serious red necks, but they had a lot of fun, I speak red neck. It was truly a hunt of a life time. The problem was Elmer the moron that we take the deer to for processing down there, was being a asshole, and I had to get in his face. He was soliciting my clients for cash, WTF?! This seriously ticked me off and I had to get in his face and yell at him after I pried him away from my clients, and took him out back, I got about 3 inches from his face, and yelled in Sarge style, “What the fuck cock breath? Don’t you dare embarrass me again, understand? If you want money you come to me or Boss you don’t solicit my fucking clients and embarrass the fuck out of me and the company.” It had minimal effect on him; he was to damned drunk of his discount beer to realize I was threatening him. I called Boss, after he went back to it, and Boss called him, and chewed him out, he behaved after that. I took the clients out to BBQ, and get very ‘deer lease’ drunk. They eventually forgot about the whole thing, and half the things that we did on the lease….alcohol can be a good thing.

Mexican Girl keeps drifting in and out of my life, generally costing me money, always wanting food and gas, she’s not putting out nearly enough Cost vs Sex isn’t adding up, it would be cheaper to just get hire a hooker full time…anyone have any references? I am happy to be a sugar daddy, if the amount of sex is equal in some proportion to the amount of money spent. That would be a interesting blog…how much is what sexual favor worth?

Anyone know Tucker Max? Yeah well in a style first made popular by him, I downed a Fifth of Titos Vodka before even showing up at our Christmas party, I jumped on Santa’s lap, then after rattling off a half slurred list of wishes, involving Brazilian hookers, a million dollars, a blow job from a midget…you get the idea, I said it right into the microphone also…the owners of the company where there, the room was silent, then I fell backwards off Santa’s lap, in the process kicking him in the face on accident the room burst into laughter. They tried to cut me off at the bar (4 shots crown, 8 shots of tequila and 4 bud light drafts after the Santa incident..) but I just waited until they weren’t looking and snagged a bottle, a pretty blue one, I think it was sky vodka and stated to spike everyone’s drinks. Gotta love open bar. There are pictures, dirty, evil pictures of things I did, and other people did after I spiked there drinks. The owner lady gave Santa a lap dance, then Boss gave her a lap dance….32 employees drank/ate $15k in food/alcohol at that party….take that big oil! I AM LEDGEND! Yes its true, I am a legend at work, partially because of my alcohol absorption ability, and because I become more friendly and funny and feed off a crowed when I drink. Some chick took me home after I tried to light the bar on fire with the remainder of my blue bottle, and re-enact a dance from Coyote Ugly while singing some Britney Spears remix song…it was ugly, however very hilarious the pictures are posted all over work. Anyone else would be embarrassed but me? Hell no it just strokes the ego…something wrong here…


I traded the parakeets for a breeder female cockatiel for my male cockatiel, I figure I will try and make more. Birds kick my ass, I can get any mammal, or reptile to reproduce in captivity but the damned birds…even my finches in my aviary make nests, but have yet to produce me any babies. My Green cheek Conures, the male tried to kill my female after she refused to sit on the one egg she laid so far, so I had to separate them, however she was depressed and ate her egg. GREAT! Another catastrophic failure with birds, I shall not give up until I get babies!

I took Cranky out hunting rabbits this last weekend (Saturday night, the 30th) outstanding hunt, I’m the best guide in the world found a field packed full of rabbits he we got PLENTY of food for his bigger reptiles to last for months! (Freeze them, to kill parasites then thaw them out to feed to the snakes, each rabbit is in its own large Ziploc bag.) Sunday mourning I had to drive around in search of a car wash that was open the truck is white and it was bathed in blood, bloody hand prints, smear marks, even blood on the windshield, maybe 20% of the total body of the truck was covered in blood, and blood was congealed in giant stalactites hanging from the bumper and tail gate. I got a lot of strange looks in traffic, especially because I hadn’t shaven and was wearing old dirty looking clothes, ripped up and so forth. I did hit on a cute chick in the gas station when I bought the car wash, she kept stressing she had kids and so forth, and that she hated guns, I didn’t figure it was going to work. She seemed like she wanted a date, but heck, she hates guns. I love kids, but if you haven’t figured out guns are a big portion of my livelihood, guns and animals is where I make some of my rent money. I guide on a lot of hunts, and I breed a lot of different animals. I love kids BTW, and I plan on purchasing some after I buy a house in ’08. I will explain that sentence later.

Well there is more stuff that happened, but heck it’s not nearly as entertaining as that which I have written about. Well gentile reader I will talk at you later.

Thanks,

Sarge.

Bye Bye Mexican Girl

Settle Down…

I am going to bitch for a while, as today I am quite cranky. So yesterday (Sunday the 9th of December) this Mexican girl I have been seeing (read: screwing) off and on for some time calls me to tell me she wants to come over, however she doesn’t have the gas to come see me. (she’s a poor college student). I have been playing hunting guide all weekend for some upscale clients, so I was dead tired and wore the heck out, suffering from a moderate hang over, and I didn’t feel like getting up from the sofa I had just laid down on so as o watch my aviary like a TV. She started making cute little noises and saying please really sweet so I hop my happy ass up, get dressed again, and head to the next town over so I can fill up her gas tank and we can see each other for a few minutes. Its freaking cold outside, but the truck hadn’t even cooled down yet, I had only been home about 15 minutes or so. (being single I strip first thing when I come home.) I get over to the dorms, and call her, get her car put $35 worth of gas in it, and then we head to her dorm room where her fat white annoying roommate is watching TV and channel surfing after the person on TV says about 5 words. This is already annoying me. Its getting late in the evening so I lay down on the bed and start to snooze a little and the annoying fat white chick is saying “keep it PG” and shit. Gee, I bet our snuggling was the most action she had seen outside the internet. Keeping things PG isn’t possible when you factor in my penis. So little Mexican girl is playing with my crotch under the blankets while I doze happily, a nice way to snuggle I say. Then all the sudden she pops off with the following comment: “I want you to make me jealous, I haven’t ever been jealous before and I want to know what I would do if I get jealous”. The music stopped, was I just given free reign to hit on random women in front of my supposed girlfriend? This needed more clarification so I stated “well there are some girls at work (the nylons) that hit on me on a regular basis.” This didn’t quite satisfy her, as she retorted with “Oh I know you’re too good of a guy to cheat on me, and that’s what’s making this boring, you wouldn’t ever cheat that’s just not like you, so how are you supposed to make me jealous?” What the fuck over? So now I’m too good of a person to cheat? Or is she saying I’m not attractive enough that any other woman would want me? This defiantly needed some more clarification. Time for Super Asshole Sarge to come out and test her limits of relationship endurance. “Ok woman, look here I don’t screw around, I don’t cheat I don’t even look at other women because I am happy with you.” That was a last ditch effort to avoid the train wreck I saw coming. She rolled her eyes, stopped playing with me privates and said “but that’s boring, how come you don’t?”
Ok, lets stop there for a moment, and realize that until that point I was half asleep and not caring about the conversation much as she was fondling me. When she stopped was when I finally woke up fully and got slightly peeved. I had only had about 4 hours of sleep due to my hunting guide experiences the days prior. Me and Mexican Girl’s relationship has been kind of strange and off and on for over a year. I was pretty fed up with life in general at this point. So in true Sarge style I told her off.
“Listen little girl, if I wanted any lip from you I’d scrape it off my zipper, I don’t WANT to make you jealous but hey, you don’t want a GOOD relationship now do you? You want a typical old world Mexico relationship where the man fucks 3-4 other women on the side. Has this sorta thing been bred into you? You know I’m successful and decently good looking I could walk out that door right now and find a pretty little white girl that wouldn’t give me half the trouble you do, but nooo, I chose you. You are making me regret this choice, now I’m going home, you can go back to your laundry I’ll talk to you later.”
Just so you know kind reader, your not beginning this story in the middle, only in the end, there is much you do not know. Assume what you must, and fill in the blanks using your imagination.
So I left, drove my happy ass back home, went back to the sofa to watch my aviary, and doze off for a while, I dreamed about all the stupid random strange bullshit that Mexican Girl has put me through and I decided that it was probably going to make my life a hell of a lot easier (and less expensive) if I where to just cut it off with her for good. Later that night she called me to tell me she was going out with her friends, and I told her it was over, that I was not going to see her again, that I didn’t need the twilight zone emotional element, and drama associated with our relationship. I also deleted her phone number from my palm treo thingy, and all her contact information was removed from my house. The bad thing is that I don’t even KNOW her phone number, never bothered to memories it, it was always just in my phone. Bye bye Mexican Girl.
This is why I am cranky today; I think I am suffering from Sperm Retention Syndrome.


Thanks,
Sarge.

Boss's Buck

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Let me take a moment to apologize since my last post not much note worth has happened, a few things here and there, such as, I took Boss hunting again on Friday, and Saturday mourning we saw a MONSTER buck around 9:20am. We pulled up to a feeder, and I was glassing it, and this is how it went down…
Boss, “Sarge, you see anything over there?”
Me, “Spike, Doe under the feeder, small buck…”
Just as I was finishing that sentence the “Doe” lifted her head, and BAM, deep, dark mahogany colored horns are a couple inches outside the feeder on either side, he had a rack bigger than some mule deer I have seen. I started breathing a chant “oh my god, shoot, shoot it” over and over. Boss went ballistic, and tried to get a shot, however his rest was unstable, and the spike started trotting off after a Doe that was near the tree line. ‘Al Calhoun’ the buck, started a fast gallivant walk after the spike, he went behind a thicket of trees, and as Boss maneuvered to get a shot as he came out, we lost sight of him, Al Calhoun disappeared.
We returned to the truck, freaking out slightly, and decided not to pressure him by trying to chase him down, but that we would come back a bit later, there is plenty of deer season left. We went into ‘The Chatterbox’ a awesome small diner, all home cooked right in front of you, had some breakfast while planning and trying hard to keep the coffee mugs steady in the afterglow of the adrenaline rush that followed such an event. We picked up some corn at the T&C, (town and country, it s a gas station/convince store line) it was a couple hours later, and somewhere around noon when we got back out there, a storm front had started to move in and the wind was heavy outa the south. The first thing that we saw where some cows, bed down next to the road on the lease, this was not a good sign, if the animals where bed down, we wouldn’t get another chance at Al Calhoun this weekend, there would be no way to catch him running around, and seeing him hiding in the brush would be dang near impossible. A little about the hunting lease…its not the biggest lease in the world, however we only hunt roughly 15% of it, giving the other areas as safe zones for the game animals.
We where driving along slowly, trying hard to stare holes through the brush line so as to see hidden antlers in the tangle of underbrush when Boss slams on the breaks. “There he is!” he whispers in triumph, I stare hard at the brush and finally see a very large 11 point buck sitting up in the middle of a HUGE pile of prickly pear cactus. I could tell right off the back that it wasn’t Al Calhoun, but it was a damned fine buck, and Boss made a fine shot right in the throat. This is that buck: After it was down, that’s when its my turn… if you have read the previous posts, you would know I am Boss’s Bitch, he calls me Son, treats me like his son, refers to me as his son, he has pretty much adopted me. However unlike his other Son, the one named Muscles, I am a tool for Boss to use, and I do all the lifting, all the carrying, and all the semi-sober driving, just about anything even moderately risky. The thing is I sorta enjoy it. So I climb through the cactus, drag the buck out, drag it 150 yards to the truck, lift it into the truck, and then wrap it up to take back to the deer processors (a friend of ours, we will call him Elmer) After that the day was pretty much about alcohol, hunting stories, and planning the next go round. The feeders where all filled, everything checked, pictures where taken (I’m also the photographer), and we headed back home. That was pretty much the end of the weekend, got home at actually a reasonable time Saturday afternoon.

Sarge “The-everything-guy”

first alcohol influenced rant

This will be my first, alcohol influenced blog, I am sure that there will be more in the future. Let me tell you about one of the worst days I have had in a long time. If you read ‘They call me Sarge’ the basic introduction into this strange world I live in than you might already know some of the people that I am about to talk about.
Skywalker annoys the living shit out of me. He stopped for one reason or another, taking his meds around thanksgiving. It has now been just long enough for them to work there way outa his system. He has Borderline Personality Disorder, along with a mild case of Schizophrenia, and maybe a touch of oh Dissociative Identity Disorder. This mix, allows him to function, but only if left alone and in a very noisy environment where not much is expected of him, and yet he receives a lot of praise. If its dead silent in a work area, he will hold heated discussions with himself, arguing both points, and then arguing how he stated the subject to begin with…there is more than one person living in Skywalkers head. Let me take you back in time a bit and tell you how Skywalker came to work in my department….
Like all good stories, this one will begin, “No shit there I was” minding my own business, not really noticing the people that worked on the other side of the building far, far away from me, building huge units used to compress gasses in the oil field. There grunts (Google it) I am no longer a ‘grunt*’ in the work force, I am somewhere near…I guess you could call it a pied blue and white collar worker. I get dirty when I have to, but I normally just do technical stuff, and play with $4k each computer units. Well, I hear a lot of gossip from the Nylons (the women that work in the office’s somewhat near me, that don’t have enough personality to warrant naming) That this guy Skywalker that worked for the Wrench Turner Side* as a field hand, had gotten kicked out of the whole state of New Mexico (this takes talent). I was immediately impressed, and decided to meet him, little did I know what kinda person Skywalker was. So immediately I sat about on my task to find Skywalker in the mess of denim uniforms and Hispanics that work for us. I didn’t have to look far, the first person that I asked, the WTS Shop Forman who we will call W.R., pointed to a middle aged, 5’10” man sporting a Mohawk hair do, yet clean shaven, with grease smeared all over his body. My first impression was he was an idiot, the disheveled look he had to him, made him appear as if he had the intellect of a nematode. I will admit that I severely underestimated his intelligence, the guy is a genius, although he is so fractured its hard to tell that he is very intelligent its evident when you get him drunk and he starts to slow down his thinking to a point that he is almost, but not quite functional.
Skywalker got kicked outa New Mexico for talking shit about our company, to clients, the clients didn’t like that, and we almost lost a huge contract, oh I would like to add, he didn’t work much, he was to busy bad mouthing our multi-million dollar company to turn his damned wrench. So they set about trying to find something in the shop that Skywalker could do, can he cut metal? Not in a way that’s OSHA compliant, and expedient. Can Skywalker read blueprints? Not without first trying to argue with the drafter, to the point they quit, and somehow the blueprints ended up catching fire (no freaking shit…) and the company had to pay $10k for a whole new stack and a new set of rights to the intellectual property. *side note: We wouldn’t have had to pay much, except a copy fee, but Skywalker pissed off the last draftsman so much that they took all there shit and left.* One thing that Skywalker could do was Reverse Engineer something, fix it, then put it back together, over the period of a year he worked himself out of a job, (two SMALL units, he…wasted time arguing) Skywalker would have been more efficient, its just he cannot remember where anything is once it leaves his hands. He literally re-discovers each and every tool he has, every time he needs it there is a hunt for this tool or that. Once out of a job, and no where to go but the unemployment line, Muscles gave Skywalker to me, he was given to me on Monday and the week went down hill from there.
I put Skywalker to work re-building Barton dry flow meters, its simple, take the crap out, sand blast the box, spray paint the box, screw the crap back in, clean the glass, and BAM done. On a BAD day it takes me about 45-60 minutes to perfectly remanufacture a Barton. On Monday, Skywalker did one Barton, however by the end of the day I knew his life story, and so many random facts I had to drown them out of my mind with the application of heavy amounts of alcohol. Tuesday, I decided to help Skywalker build some Barton’s as he only had one done and needed 10 done by Friday. Tuesday was a busy day for me so I was only able to build 4 Barton’s to give him a hand up, Tuesday’s score? Sarge-4 Skywalker-0. Not quite zero, he might have had one finished but he accidentally destroyed it in the process (don’t ask, it makes me angry) How in the hell do you weld a aluminum box, to a bench you are working on without killing yourself, while sitting on the bench, is a mystery to me, and always will be.
I was mean Tuesday, I yelled a lot during the day using terms I used to use on the FNG’s (Google it) in the army. I remember in a blind rage, yelling something to the term of “What-the-hell-are-you-thinking-the-best-part-of-you-ran-down-the-crack-of-your-mothers-ass. You-have-made-a-f*ing-beliver-out-of-me, up-untill *breath* up-untill-this-point-I-didn’t-belive-in-abortion, but-i-belive-in-retro-abortion-now. You-should-have-been-dropped-on-your-head-more, it-obviously-wasn’t-enough-to-kill-you….” It went on for another 2-3 minutes, and 5-7 breaths, but it gets worse from there.
You see, each Barton is potentially $800 for the company, and each one that is destroyed is $400+ that we lost, as we will have to replace it with a used unit bought from a third party. I left work with a bunch of the Nylons, and some other office hands, to go next door to a bar and drink the thoughts of the day away, also beat my liver, who had been acting up all day mind you, back into submission. At 1830 (630pm, for some) I was called back over to the shop, because The Monkeys had loaded about 3,000lbs worth of valves, and what not’s on the very rear of a 18’ trailer, with the logic of “when we hook it to a truck it will even it out man”. I was mostly drunk by then, and so my aim was off, but I came very close when I threw the rock at one of the Hispanic monkey’s heads. Mind you I had kicked Skywalker outa my shop at around 1725 or so when I went down the street to drowned my evil thoughts. Low and behold, the lights where on in my shop, I have $4 million worth of inventory so it worries me when the lights are on and I am not there, means the security system is deactivated for starters. I sneak up the door, try the knob, good its locked, I can hear movement inside, so I insert my key quietly, and open the door REAL fast and dramatic like. I will give you one guess as to who is sitting there, at a freaking desk reading some stupid paper of some sort that was already on that desk….That’s right ladies and gentlemen, Skywalker is riding the clock for overtime. I yell some more, pounded on things, and threw him the freak out, called Muscles, and told him what I found in my shop, and WHY I am back at the office, and he was not happy either. I locked up again, and went back to drinking. How Skywalker got into my office is still a mystery to me.
This mourning I show up, and get to work early, it was 7am when I clocked in and got my first cup of a very nice, very rich exotic coffee blend they serve at work called ‘Folgers’. At least they got rid of the Dollar Store brand coffee. Right as I take my first overly warm, tongue scalding sip, that leaves me tasteless for the rest of the day, I get a phone call from Boss, who in a hangover tone in forms me that the quote for the $1.5Million project that’s not due for 2 weeks must be done today by 10am. Gee, and I thought the coffee hurt. I get to work, and wake up my sales guys in New Mexico early (6am there time) and tell them to call all there friends with shovels and cement experience, and can put together an erector set. At 8am, I called all the contractors and electronics supply people I knew in the area, and got quotes, and called them in to Boss as they came into me. It was done, I pulled it off at 10:01am, was the end of the last phone call, and all the paper work was faxed by 10:27am, I am that freaking good. Sure I went over, but hell, you try and do it. A huge pat on the back, and some more coffee, and a bullshit safety meeting, in which our 61 year old full time female safety coordinator (Bags, we shall call her), who is a failed trophy wife (made the cut, but was divorced for a 20’s something blonde, at 50 years old) and still dresses like Britney Spears, tried to get me to shut up with my sarcastic comments. The freaking safety meeting was about ‘Excuses in the Work Place’ I coulda taught that one damn it, and I voiced my opinion with vigor much to the entertainment of the Wrench Turners, and Nylons. In Classic Sarge style I totally ignored that she was talking to me, and started at her until she felt stupid/uncomfortable and walked off. Always throw your foe off guard. A variety of random shit happened after that, that was stupid, like trying to find a impossible piece a DB9 male connecter by a DB20 male connector adapter….they don’t make a DB20, someone screwed up. If you know what I am talking about, and read this, and it DOES exists, for the love of god contact me, I need one for a customer who is mentally unstable, but richer than god.
I spent about $234K of the company money on electronics today, that is always fun, god its good to spend money that’s not yours, almost makes you feel cool. The only problem is writing up the spec sheets for this crap, sorting out who it goes to, getting commitments from the customers, and convincing the Bean Counters in purchasing that YES we DO need this, and it is already sold, look I have the F’ing Purchase Order number right here in my freaking had for the company it is going to. Oh yeah and I have to write REALLY clearly as the guy that calls in the orders, (I will explain purchasing later) is literally legally blind.
There is more, and perhaps I will write about it later, but I am very drunk, and if I don’t stop now this damned thing will be 12 pages long, and no one will read the stupid thing. So at that, I bid you farewell dear reader, and thank you for letting me rant, for where it not for this blog, I feel I would be forced to spend my time, drinking my life away, in self imposed chastity without any social skills outside of work and the animal world to speak of….oh wait….

Sarge

The Dirty South...

Ok well, just as there are dog breeds right? I SWEAR there are HUMAN breeds,
People that have been bred for stupidity and other inbred traits you know? Ok now an example, say this one person’s great grandma was a total moron, and attracted a moron white trash husband. They ate possums, and grew up feeding there children road kill and squirrel gravy and shit. Their children, where already impaired right?
Because of the environment and bad genetics and each one of then ends up with a kid before age....oh, lets be conservative....15. They raise there kids even MORE stupid, I mean come on, daddy got mommy knocked up in his tricolor Ford 4x4, with the rifle rack, and southern flag in the back window and a bumper sticker ‘I spit for distance’, listening to 8 track tapes, and they still HAVE the Ford. Little JimBobs first car, is the same one he is conceived in. Then he grows up and gets into the wife beater shirts, facial stubble and older camero’s and impregnates 8 women, and has 9 children, all of whom have a craving for squirrel gravy, and possum fries or some shit. Then now....my friend you have Louisiana, Kentucky, parts of Tennessee, and Virginia.
Alabama and Mississippi are a different story.

“It isn’t called ‘The Dirty South’ because of the trash, its because of the gene pool”-Sarge

They call me Sarge

They call me Sarge, my name in fact is Eric, it wouldn't be very smart of me to actually put my last name out there, as I work in the oil industry in West Texas, that alone is probably enough information to figure out who I am. There is so much that I want to share with the world, the first thing that I would like to tell you is if in any way you find anything I say her offensive...GOOD chances are that it was meant to be offensive to the type of person that you are. I don't play nice with others and don't go expecting me to pour my heart out. This isn't a living diary, this is more of a way for me to explain certain aspects of my life, and publicly ridicule the idiots that are unfortunately involved in it, while raising up the outstanding people I come across. Now its time for your crash course into my world. I got the nick name Sarge from Boss, I will not identify him any further Boss will be enough for now. Boss is a good guy, who comes from a good family and has had to work for everything he owns, he has some trouble in his life and wages war on his liver on a nightly (sometimes noonish) basis, its part of my job description (as his bitch so to speak) to take care of him, such as pick him up off the floor when he gets to drunk, drunk drive him home and so forth. I do a awful lot for him and his family whom I genuinely care for, as such I have a room in his house, and he calls me 'Son' and when he gets drunk wants me to call him 'Dad' not having had a good family life, I am uncomfortable with this, however that is a different blog altogether. Other important people you will hear about often are Muscles (Boss's son) Cranky (a reptile enthusiast friend of mine) Skywalker (a bumbling idiot with more things wrong with him, that I can describe, he takes 5 sets of pills a day...mental case) The Whore (need I say more? its a guy people..) . There are also 'The Idiots in the Supply Room' who I will address with different degrading names as time passes. I think that sums up the possible people I rant about the most, I will introduce more characters as the drama ensues.I almost forgot, they call me Sarge, because I generally sport a military flat top, something left over from my 6 years in the army, and the fact I was a NCO in the military. Oh, and I yell at people much like the public perceives a Drill Sargent.