I Spent Today In A Cloud of Dust

I’m slightly obsessed with Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and Florence and the Machine at the moment. And, embarrassingly, Jesse McCartney.  And Hayley Sales.  And Mumford & Sons, and Laura Marling.

Living on a rig, with miserably slow internet, does not feed my music obsession.  I am starving out here.  I have to listen to the same 3 songs over and over because it takes those 3 songs ALL DAY to load.

Today’s Expoit:

I swept four days ago. This is today’s pile. And my foot.

I think there may have been this much in my shoe last night after my run. 
Dirt roads + lots of traffic = gritty shoes.  Gross

The End.

I got someone to run with me ONE other time, I miss Catherine

Last night I had ice cream and hot cocoa powder for dinner. And a roll.


The roll was homemade, so at least it might almost be somewhat healthy, right?

Today’s Exploit:

Matt has told everyone on the rig that I tried to kill him the other night. I want to take this time to say that I was just running along, minding my own business. He could have stopped at any time he felt like it. Also I asked him if he was sure he wanted to go another two miles. Really, deciding to run 4 miles after six months of nada… I will accept no blame for this.

Running with Matt reminded me of another time I had a running buddy.

It was during my last school. Pretty much every one there knew that I ran every evening. So I would tease them about going with me. They all claimed that they were in shape, or trying to get there. I would tease the ones who claimed they ran a lot about being scared that I’d be faster than them. And I challenged the ones who were trying to get in shape to keep up with me.

Mostly it was all talk, and I never thought I’d be faster than any of them.

Finally one of them decided to give it a shot. He claimed he ran about four miles, regularly. Actually he said 10 kilometers. But I didn’t believe him because he translated that to 4 miles, and everyone knows 10k is about 6 mi. Or everyone SHOULD.

Anyhoo, we decided to go to a park and run. And I convinced some other people to come too, but they decided to play football on the grassy area, instead of heading for the track.

Sergio and I left Alex and David with their football and set off at a moderate pace. I thought it’d be a nice little run at that pace. But after about a mile the pace had slowed considerably. After 2 I was almost walking.

That was when Sergio thought we should turn around. So we did, and I wogged back (that’s half walk, half jog. I read it in a book once).

About half a mile from the car I thought Sergio was going to pass out. He had to stop and hold his side and gasp for a while. He decided he’d walk the rest of the way. After I was sure he wasn’t going to die I ran back to my car, at a normal pace. Then I turned and ran back to Sergio. I did this a few more times, until David and Alex came over and started playing catch.

Gradually this moved to the parking lot, and I sat at my car and watched them pretend to be great athletes.

After that I couldn’t get any of them to run with me again. The closest I got to company was the class soccer match. Nearly everyone played, and those who didn’t refereed.

Then I got hit in the head 2 times. A soccer ball is not soft.

How Far Do You Usually Go? Oh, Just a Little Bit Further

A little snippet of trivia for you:
In London on June 13th 2009 over 1,000 cyclists stripped off to take part in the World Naked Bike Ride. The sixth annual protest against oil dependency and car culture saw riders stage nude rallies in more than 40 locations around the world. In London, the naked cyclists, some painted with anti-oil slogans, followed a six-mile (10km) route from Hyde Park Corner past the Houses of Parliament and through the West End.

-Found here.

Today’s Exploit:

The other night both of the directional drillers started talking about how they need to start running/exercising. They told me how much they used to run and started comparing workout stories.

Naturally I had to tease them about actually getting started. In response Matt, the day DD, decided that he would run with me the following evening. He asked me 3.8 times if I was still going to go. I think he was nervous.

Six o’clock finally came, and we set out. We walked for a while, and then he told me not to let him slow me down. So I started running, maybe slightly slower than my normal pace.

Matt kept up for ¾ of a mile before his lungs forced him to take a break. A 10 minute/mile pace is pretty fast after 6-8 months of doing nothing.

The next interval was just over a ½ mile.

We ended up going about 3.5 miles this way, each interval slightly shorter or slightly slower. It was a nice easy run for me, rather fun after continually pushing myself through the 4 mile route I normally do.

Also 3.5 miles is a bloody long way for a first run. I was quite impressed. I also though Matt was going to keep running until he fell over dead, and I’d have to drag him back to the rig.

He probably will be taking a few days off to recover movement in his legs. But he is determined to keep running, which is more than I can say for the last running buddy I had. Hopefully I get to come back to this rig so I have company occasionally.

I wonder what he’d say if I told him I wanted to run 8 miles next time?

Accordions and Hula-Hoops

I was going to post about Starla today, and my adventures with her. But the story wasn’t finished, and I have not motivation. So, instead, you get a random story from 6.7 months ago.

Today’s Exploit:

When I visited home, not the last time but the time before, it was summer. And Laramie had the weekly Friday Farmers’ Market.

I forced Cupcake to go with me, and we saw lots of dogs, and bought fruit that I had never tried before (and still haven’t. We forgot about it and it mouldered in the fridge), and we Hula-hooped. We used giant hoops, and made fools of ourselves. We had great fun and scared all the kiddies that wanted to play. It was the Wellness booth, and we played with all their games.

When we decided that we’d swiveled enough we started wandering some more.

That was when we discovered the busker. He was playing the accordion. Cupcake was immediately enamored. She’s still on her European kick. And the accordion reminded her of France.

We stood there and listened to the music for a very long time. Cupcake even requested a song, and he knew it. She would have stood there until he finished if I’d let her.

But finally I told her I had to make dinner, and she had to come with me. So she tipped him and told him she loved him, and we trundled along about our business.

Right now I am listening to some music that Cupcake gave to me, the soundtrack from Amélie. So I am remembering standing in the sun, surrounded by people listening to the accordion. And imagining sidewalk bistros and the smell of bread wafting from patisseries. And the Eiffel Tower.

This music makes me want to travel.

Conversation With A Fox

For some reason I haven’t yet figured out, the better I sleep at night, the more tired I am in the morning. It was far easier to get up when I was waking 6-7 times a night. But now that I only wake 2-3, mornings are miserable.

Bah humbug.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday, when I was taking a short little walk after dinner, I met a fox.

I was trying to atone for skipping my run by using the weekend as an excuse, and eating a dinner made for the Hulk.

I was meandering down the road, trying to will my phone to have service. I succeeded long enough to discern that my family was screening my calls. Then my will flagged, and I was left in a barren wasteland of prickly pear and some low-growing deciduous tree.

That was when the foxes came to meet me.

The first one ran across the road and vanished in to the cacti.

The second one, however, decided to investigate this blatant invasion of its space.

It stood in the road and watched me.

Me: Hello, Mr. Fox.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: How are you tonight?

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: Sorry to bother you on this fine evening, but I needed some quiet air.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: I just needed to get away from the rig, and pretend to exercise. So that I can feel a little better about my sedentary job.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: I just sit in a box all day. When I took this job I had hoped for hands on work, but it turns out it’s an office job. Just worse because I have to live in the middle of nowhere for weeks at a time and dust and never-ending noise.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: But you didn’t really want to know that, sorry. I’ll be going now. Enjoy your evening.

Foxxy: *Scurries off into the cacti to join its mate.*

Me: Bye!

Ode to Tea

I watched one of the Twilight movies last night. I don’t know which one it was, but I rather enjoyed it. The movie was pretty terrible and cheesy, but I had a very enjoyable time making fun of it. Also, I have to admit the Werewolves were pretty cute.

Today’s Exploit:

An ode to tea. But first, I need a refill…



Ok, I’m back, and ready to begin. *Cough, cough…Ahem*

An Ode to Tea

Tea, I drink you in the morning.
Hot, with milk and sugar.
Raw sugar, coarse grains with a slight hint of molasses.
I scorch my tongue on the first sip.
Every time.

I drink you in the afternoon.
Chilled, with lots of sugar.
Southern style. Sweet.
I think I have a sugar high.

And tea, I drink you in the evening.
Warm and toasty.
Smelling of mint and drowsiness,
Comfort and home.
I now need a nap.

Bob, the Show-Off

I just saw an advertisement for one of the phone companies. One that allows way too much internet access.


It had a girl who had just been on a date. Not only was she sitting outside the guy’s house, hiding in a bush, she was stalking him on Facebook and sending “couple” photos to everyone she knew.

It made me want to ban the use of this device from the universe. I think they were a bit counter-productive in this case…

Today’s Exploit:

Every once in a while I’ll come across a roughneck that also “likes to run”.

They tell me how much they run when they’re at home, and that sometimes they run while they’re on the rig, too. I’ll give you an example of these conversations. We’ll call the roughneck Bob for simplification.

Bob: So, you like to run a lot?

Me: Yep.

Bob: How often do you go?

Me: I try to run every day.

Bob: Wow, I like to run a lot, too.

Me: Oh yeah?

Bob: Yeah, I run all the time when I’m at home. I run almost every night. I like to stay in shape.

(Most of the people who tell me this have a difficult time making it up the stairs)

Me: Wow.

Bob: Sometimes I like to run at the rig, too.

Me: I see.

Bob: Yeah, I run all the way to the gate and back. It’s a pretty good run.

(This distance usually varies from .5 miles to 1.3.)

Me: Yep.

Sometimes they ask how far or how long I run, and if they do that they invariably end the conversation really fast and go back to work.  I try to avoid this question if possible.

I’ve only met one that runs further than I do. And he was bloody fast. I’m jealous.

PS I know I'm late, but it's really not my fault!  We had to start a new run.  I promise.

My Very Own Trainee

Crap, I’m procrastinating. And I’m going to be late. I still don’t even know what I’m going to write about today, its 8:19. I am failing.

Today’s Exploit:

The kid that I’m working with seems to be pretty quick to pick things up. So I get a lot more reading done, since I don’t have to do the other mundane tasks that my job requires (I finally finished "Dracua" after only 5 months).

And he fixes pipe screens and overshots so I don’t have to. Without me even asking. It’s like having magic elves that fix everything at night. Sort of like the shoemaker’s elves. Except I see mine.

He usually stays in the unit until 7:30 or 8:00. It’s not a bad thing, just awkward because he persists in using the same desk space that I am using. I end up squished in a corner while he checks his email for two hours.

Honestly, how many emails can you get in one night? Also, why not check them at night? You know, those 12 hours that I’m not here? So that I don’t have to curl up into a mouse sized ball and not move for fear of disturbing the sacred process.

Also I’m too much of a wimp to ask him to move the computer a few feet down the counter.

On the bright side, he is a tea drinker. And he has an electric kettle. That means a never-ending supply of hot water, sans the coffee flavor of every other pot/cup/dish that exists on the rig.

Overall having a trainee is not a bad thing. I get to be bossy.

The Breakfast Taco Curse

Summer has already begun. Days are hot and nights are comfortable. Juniper Berries, it’s only February. I have to deal with this nonsense until the end of October!

Today’s Exploit:

Every so often I’ll get a call from the rig floor asking if I want a breakfast taco. I try to decline, but the people who might take “no” as my answer will be offended if I actually say “no”. I’ve noticed that almost anyone who offers food will be offended if I decline.

It’s a curse.

For example, breakfast tacos. Breakfast tacos usually consist of scrambled eggs, bacon or sausage and sometimes potatoes. And, of course, tortillas. The problems is that I don’t like eggs. And I don’t like sausage or bacon (unless it’s a special occasion and we’re at the cabin). And the potatoes are generally cooked into the eggs and pig meat. So I am left to pick out potatoes trying to avoid the eggs and pigs while not appearing to be discriminating. They would be offended if they knew I didn’t like those two immensely important breakfast staples.

Also, generally by the time they offer I’ve already eaten breakfast. So I’m not at all hungry. Then they get worried that I don’t like the tacos because I can’t scarf them down in 3.2 seconds like the boys out here can.

I am left to lie my heart out, telling them how hungry I was and how good the tacos con juevos y pigs were. And while I feel guilty about not particularly liking the tacos I don’t feel the least bit of remorse for lying to them about me not liking the food.

This is a breakthrough. I don’t feel guilty about lying. I will have to ponder this further. Maybe I can extend it to other parts of my life. Maybe I can morph it into the ability to be mean to people who deserve it.

In the mean time I’ll be ballooning up to immense proportions off food that I don’t want, sort of like the girl in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” who was obsessed with gum and ate the gum when Mr. Wonka told her not to. I might turn purple as well. So the next time you see a big purple blimp with a head say hi, it’s probably me.

Soap in the Eye, SOAP IN THE EYE!

This kid puts in way more effort than I ever did as a trainee. That’s probably why it took so long for them to promote me to working days. Also I never complained about it.

Probably I should start being obnoxious if I want to move up in the ranks.

Today’s Exploit:

The other day I was being proactive, and preparing for my trip. I was trying really hard not to procrastinate because I wanted to be on time. (I would have been, if not for the traffic in Fort Worth. I should know better, traffic there is ALWAYS bad.)

I took Starla to the car wash because my she hasn’t been cleaned in 3.8 years. And because it smelled like vinegar and capsaicin from the bottle of hot sauce that broke and dripped all over everything.

First I had to clean all the junk out of my car. Junk accumulates exponentially in my passenger seat. The back seat junk doesn’t so much accumulate as grow and intertwine, rather like the vine on my grandparents’ house. The one that was pulling the siding off.

In the process of removing the junk my fingers came into contact with the dribbly mess on the floor. This wasn’t a problem until I decided that my neck itched. And failed to connect the knowledge that my hands had been immersed in liquid heat, and the skin on my neck is far more sensitive than that on my hands. I spent the next two days fighting a lovely heat rash.

I finally made it to the car wash and spent a small fortune trying to vacuum the grass and hair out of the carpet. Car-wash vacuums are not good for removing hair from car-carpet. The grass was only slightly easier to remove.

Eventually I pulled into the bay to wash Starla’s exterior. She is perpetually dusty from driving the poorly maintained roads to rigs. I scrubbed and washed and sprayed and shined.

I was feeling rather rushed because some dude in a Jeep pulled in behind me and only took 37 seconds to vacuum his car.

I finally finished and was getting ready to pull away when I remembered the floor mats. I had to wash them. They were the vinegary culprits, the entire reason I went to the blasted car-wash-place.

So I made apologetic faces at the dude in the Jeep and stuck a few more quarters in the machine. I decided I could just go with a rinse. Soap probably wasn’t entirely necessary.

Unfortunately “Rinse” does not mean just water. I was spraying the first mat when a fleck of spray rebounded and made a beeline for my right eye.

Ack!

I put my free hand over my eye and doggedly finished cleaning the mats. Then I grabbed them and threw them over the fence to dry and booked it out of the bay.

I sat in the sun and sprayed my face with eye drops. And cried my eye out.

When the mats were mostly dry, I stuck them back in the car and went home to assess the damage. I rinsed my eye with regular water for a while and then tried eye drops again.

It turns out that the drops were actually making my eye burn worse. So I stopped that and refrained from touching my eye more than necessary until the next morning.

The only lasting damage was to my pride and vanity. They suffered greatly as I drove home with mascara running down my face, my eye red and swollen and my shirt drenched with saline solution.

I’m A Big Kid Now, I’m even past the pull-ups

Happy Belated-Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry if you didn’t get my Valentine, I haven’t actually sent it yet. They’re all in my car, just waiting for the time I go to the post office while it’s still open.

Today’s Exploit:

I got a little break. And I was very lazy, and I didn’t write any posts. I was guilt ridden all week, but it didn’t stop me from procrastinating.

But I’m back. And maybe I’ll be productive and write a few posts. We’ll see.

Last week Justin, my sometimes-manager sent me a little messenger note saying I was needed at a rig.

Justin: I have a rig for you. I’ll need you to be there Monday.

Me: Where is it?

Justin: South Texas

Ew.

Me: What rig?

Justin: Patterson 12.

Again, I say "Ew".

Me: What tools?

Justin: SlimPulse.

Justin: Your other option is to go back to Nabors 712.

(That’s the one with my friend, the dirty old man)

Me: Either one is fine.

Justin: Ok then, you can go to Patterson 17. Your night hand will be a post-school trainee.

Me: gulp…

Justin: I’ll send directions to your email.

Me: …

I’m still a bit awestruck by this sudden promotion. I’ve never worked with anyone less qualified than I am. It will be the first time that I won’t have someone to hand the reins over to when all hell breaks loose and I have no idea what’s going on. I won’t have anyone to wake at night asking what the heck happened to the computer and why won’t it work?

I’m terrified.

And slightly exhilarated.

And terrified.

I might have to have a panic attack this afternoon. Stand by for further notice. If I don’t update this soon please send paramedics, I’ll probably be having heart palpitations.

Thankfully They ARE Married

I just rediscovered yogurt raisins. They are probably my favoritest snack ever. And they’re mostly healthy, probably more so if you don’t eat the whole bag in one sitting.

Today’s Exploit:

Today I made another attempt at making éclairs. I squished the pastry through a pastry bag successfully. It made the resulting puffs much prettier than the first try. Sadly I utterly failed at making the filling. It is still soupy goop sitting on my counter. I made a quick replacement with some instant pudding and cinnamon.

I was a bit disappointed at how much everyone liked the filling. But then that’s probably why box pudding is still on grocery shelves.

When I arrived at the weekly dance party at the studio I was greeted by Shawn and Dadbeh. Both of whom told me that I was lucky they were married.

Shawn: You’re lucky I’m married. If I wasn’t I’d eat all you’re food then turn you into a… [I can’t remember the exact phrase he used. It had something to do with dressing scantily and going to bars.]

Dadbeh: Yes, me too. I’ll even say so in front of Shelby.

A Meeting Over Dumbbells

I find the following quote suits my dad, and my sister, and sometimes my mother.

A pun is the lowest form of humor, unless you thought of it yourself.
-Doug Larson

Today’s Exploit:

I met a boy.

I suppose technically he was a man, but I find that awkward to say.

But on to the details…

I was staying at a hotel in Louisiana for a class on Drilling Optimization. (I believe this was before the entire city shut down for the cold.) To avoid feeling lazy and as an excuse to escape my room I went to the gym, a room that consisted of a bicycle, two treadmills, an elliptical and a bench for free-weights.

On this particular night the room was inhabited. A guy was using the weights and I had to interrupt to get to one of the dreaded treadmills. After about 20.4 minutes of silence I did the unthinkable and initiated conversation. It was nothing terribly interesting, mostly about the weather and our respective reasons for staying at the hotel. But we talked off and on for the rest of the 39.6 minutes we were both in the room.

Not an extremely exciting event, but I was very proud of myself for overcoming my social awkwardness and talking to someone I’d never seen before and probably never will again.

Next step is talking to someone I might see tomorrow.

They Were Closed For Bad Weather

I was really excited about only missing 4 days in January. It was almost like work, with one day off a week. Except that all the days were consecutive. So maybe it was more like a vacation.

Anyway, I was going to do even better this month. But that went out the window the day that I drove home. Also the week that I was in class where lots of funny things happened, but I was lazy and didn’t write about them. And now I’ve forgotten.

Today’s Exploit:

Thursday night I thought it would be nice to go have dinner and maybe a drink. And find some place to dance. Then I could meet people and maybe pretend to be a normal person for an evening.

I did some research in the form of reading a binder that the hotel had compiled about local restaurants. I found one I liked, and set out to see if Timmy, my GPS, could tell me how to get there.

When I arrived, after a slight mishap with Timmy, I only saw one car in the lot. I thought this a bit odd, but it was late for dinner. I walked up to the door to find a sign saying they were no longer seating guests.

I went to another place down the road to find a similar sign saying they were closed due to the weather. After one more stop and one more sign I tried a convenience store with the same results.

By this time I was rather irked. The entire town appeared to be closed for cold weather. Not rain, not snow, not ice or some other form of water that may cause dangerous conditions. The town was closed because the temperature had fallen below freezing. I estimate the temperature was 31.4 degrees when I was driving all over looking for one place that might be open and serving food.

I ended up going back to my hotel and eating an overpriced and tasteless salad that they happened to have in the “store”. My other options were ice cream, frozen lasagna or a hot pocket.

I was not very impressed with the local dining experience.

Terrible Road Conditions

I am going to brave the horrors of driving on a road at temperatues below freezing (not necessarily icy).  Wish me luck.

Dolores Says...

Last night I went to the World Market. In Youngsville. It’s the first one I’ve been to, and it has lots of intriguing things. But the things that caught my attention were the wind chimes.

All of them.  For my porch.  It will be all tinkly and musical.

I want.

Today’s Exploit:

The day I met Dolores we talked about the weather, and the DD that walks all the time. And about the fact that I run nearly every day.

Dolores: I see you and Ricky out here every day! Haha.

Me: Yeah, I’ve got to do something...

Dolores: To get away from the rig. Ahaha

Me: Yes, I’ve got to exercise…

Dolores: Oh, to stay in shape. Hoho

Me: I’m really…

Dolores: Probably the only one that doesn’t need it. Haha

Me: But I mostly…

Dolores: Oh, you just like to be healthy. Hahaha.

I talked to Dolores for about 10 minutes. I don’t think I finished a single sentence in that time.

I Think it May Have Turned Into a Date

For the record, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of wearing long shirts and avoiding excessive attention to my bum. Turns out I failed utterly and completely. I’ve been told by multiple persons of the extent that the entire rig staff watches. Now I’m trying to burry my head back into my dark hole of obliviousness. I’m failing at that, too. Miserably.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday Mr. Chatty-driller came into my box 3 or 4 times to talk my ears off and to steal internet bandwidth. He barely took a breath the entire time he was chattering so much, yet he said absolutely nothing.

I’m still trying to figure out if there was a message behind the babble. It may take a while. My brain started picketing when my ears died.

Josh: So, I’m going to ask the guys if they want to go to dinner in town, do you want to go?

Me: Sure.

Josh: Really? I’ll go ask the guys and see what they say. I like to get away from the rig. I can’t stand staying here all the time, and…(the pointlessness continues).

Later

Josh: I asked the guys if they wanted to go, and they all said sure. But then I said I’d asked the girl to go with us and they all backed out really quick.

Me: Oh.

Josh: Yeah, none of them speak good English, and so they’re embarrassed and you’d be sitting there not understanding. They like to crack jokes, so they’d be joking with you. Oh, but do you still want to go?

Me: Why not?

Josh: Really? Wow, I’m really glad you trust me enough to go with just me. I didn’t think you’d want to still…(Insert some gibberish and you’ll have the rest of the conversation.)

We went to Chili’s. I decided we should sit at the bar because a table was a bit too personal. And I was afraid I’d learn something I didn’t want to know from the ceaseless waterfall of over-sharing. Turns out he didn’t care who heard, he was bound and determined to tell me all sorts of unwanted information.

These didn't help.  Don't be fooled by the cutsey photo, they took two hands to hold. 
And those bartenders were exceedingly generous with the tequilla.

Every so often he’d ask a question and I’d try to formulate a diplomatic response. But I was never quick enough and he’d be off and running again. Occasionally he’d remember that he’d asked a question and complain that I hadn’t answered, but still wouldn’t give me time to reply.

He also spent the entire evening leaning toward me. To which I responded by leaning into my other neighbor, who was too drunk to notice and therefore much less frightening.

Hi-Jacking Porch Swings is Overrated

I just got a phone call from an OKC number. My phone dropped the call, so I have no idea as to the premise of the call.

Me: Hello?

Them: Hey, this is [Cupcake] and we’re on our way.

Me: Um? I think you may have the wrong number?

This is where I would hear a dial tone if my phone had one of those.

First of all: Cupcake, what are you doing calling me from and OKC number?

B: Why are you coming? And from where? Did you run away again?

B ½: You’re supposed to be studying! Get to work chicken-head.

5-H: I’m not there so you can’t come see me.

Today’s Exploit:

Last night, after my endless run that lasted 8 minutes and 43 seconds longer than it was supposed to, I hi-jacked half of the porch swing at the Company Man’s trailer. The company man sat was in the other half.

My crazy friend, Herb, and I talked for a long time. He told me stories and complained about his job, and exalted his job, and told me to never get married. He also had probably 5 rum-and-cokes. He gave me one, too. Then he laughed when I told him I couldn’t handle another.

We talked about the weather, how I was comfortable in a t-shirt and shorts, but he needed long sleeves and pants. He also told me about the 115+ degreeF summer temperatures for this area. I said I’d probably melt more violently and stickily than the Wicked Witch of the West.

I told him about my aspirations to feed people, and he told me about his mother.

Then, in the natural course of things, we returned to the topic of the people I work with being scared of him.

Herb: Why are they afraid of me?

Me: I don’t know, maybe you give the impression of being mean.

Herb: But I’m not, I’m just quiet.

Me: And intimidating.

Herb: You know I’m not mean.

Me: Yep, I figured that out when you started rating girls’ bums and asked me to weigh in.

Herb:  looks at me slyly
Me: (Crap!) No!

Herb: Let me just say…

Me: (Why did I go and do that?)

Herb: …that the way you walk across location…Mmm.

Me: Resigned. Thank you. Now I have to go to bed.

Herb: Can I…?

Me: NO!

Herb: Fine. Good night.

Then I proceeded to go back to my trailer backwards.