Other things. Sorta like posts, but not.

Tuesday, January 11

Dirty Old Man

My new trailer:

6 Boys

2 Mice (They're now attached to traps and outside. The boys were scared of them and wouldn’t let me touch them, so they suffered miserably because one was just caught by the nose. Sad)

6 Boys

Lots of mud

6 Boys, gross

13 Loose roof panels. (I know this because the wind has been blowing like crazy, and the roof makes LOTS of noise. It makes it hard to sleep even if the rain sounds nice.)

By the way, boys are terrible at cleaning up after themselves.

Today’s Exploit:

The other night I was invited to eat dinner in town with the Company Man, Herb and the Clerk (I don’t know what he does, I’ve never been to a rig with a clerk before), James and the DD, Ricky.

They told me: We’ll be ready in a few minutes.

Translation: After the football game with 2:45 left in the 4th quarter. Therefore be prepared to wait for hours.

Naturally I was ready in “a few minutes.” So I watched the last 2:45 minutes of the game and in that time learned Herb’s life story. I’d tell you, but it’s not terribly riveting.

Eventually we made it to the local diner. There’s just one. It also happens to be right next to the only bar. They told me the diner had good food so, of course, they were out of steaks, ham, cheese, and a few other things that made up most of their menu.

Since I wasn’t completely absorbed by my food, I spent the time making fun of Herb. He was drunk. And he’s a self proclaimed Dirty Old Man. Some of his comments:

“Poor baby, doesn’t have a butt.” About our waitress.

“Now, she has a pretty butt.” About the other waitress

“Look at it, tell me what you think.” Really?

“That one’s a big one, woo! A big one.”

He defended himself by saying that he wasn’t touching. On the other hand he didn’t care who heard his comments. Those poor waitresses.

After I laughed at him for most of the meal he told me:

“You’re cute, you know why? Because you just don’t care.”

I guess it’s working because we’re friends now. He likes to tell me stories and invite me to breakfast, which he doesn’t cook. James does.

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