The Perils of Living With 42 Guys

Okay, Okay. Maybe it’s not 42, but it’s a lot.

On to the real post:

I have finished week 4 of Insanity. I now have a “recovery week” where I do something resembling yoga. And then the hard part starts. The second month is the first month times 7, divided by ‘really hard’, and added to ‘fear’. The solution is ‘I’m REALLY scared”. 

Yay.

Today’s Exploit:

Recently I have lots of stories about boys embarrassing me. It’s a pretty normal occurrence, although not necessarily relating to my bum. Lots of these encounters I can laugh at, and dismiss to guys being guys, and some of them being sleazy. 

I can laugh that Cupcake’s friend told her my bum looks like it weighs 20 pounds.

I can laugh at how tight my work “jeans” are, and that I can’t breathe when I wear them.

I can even laugh, later, when sleazy guys use sleazy lines, and I run out the door as fast as I can.

And I can mostly even laugh at the stupid comments that they make after I leave a room, the ones that Ali relates to me at our next breakfast “date”.

What is not fun is the staring. 

We have a group of guys here preparing the site for the production stage, they set up the storage tanks and the pipelines that lead to the larger lines across the road. They also live in camp with us, while they are here. 

Of the four guys, two of them stare at me constantly. None of the four have ever said a word to me. They just stare. 

And I’m to chicken to confront them.

So I hide behind a table if I have to get up while they’re in the room. Or I avoid the dining room if they get there first. 

Tomorrow I’m going to be really brave and talk to the company man. Wish me luck, because I will probably be shaking, and have sweaty palms. And probably I’ll stammer. But if I have to spend the next 3 days or 2 weeks of month and a half with them it will be worth it if I don’t feel like I need to wear a bag over my head and dress in a tent to hide. 

Ok. That was depressing. Next post will be more fun. Promise.

Well, That Was Awkward, Please Refrain From Such Comments in the Future

Today’s sunrise.

Also featuring a dirt pile, because I was wearing my gym shoes and didn't want to leave the safety of the walkway and risk getting snow on my pretty pink footwear.

Today’s Exploit:

I think Mitch’s entire purpose out here is to attempt to embarrass me, with the help of Ali, my ‘friend’. 

My first encounter with him was more or less normal, he joked and I smiled. The next time, however, I was fighting an o-ring. I was trying to get it in place around my flow sleeve, a steel cylinder with a flare at one end, and he decided it would be funny to comment on how well I did such a task. Sexual innuendo inserted here. Following that was an episode where Oscar had to help me and Mitch told us, “PJ puts the o-ring on way better than you.” Cue red face. 

Another encounter was the time he blatantly ignored the closed door in the weight room/gym and walked in on me working out. I actually didn’t expect any company that day, and was only wearing my sports bra and shorts. When I packed up to leave I had to walk through the gym to replace the mat and the Lysol. At that time he started a conversation about how difficult it is to work out when working nights, and I made not-committal noises. When he failed to get me talking he came in with this line:

“So, you look good.”

I made a beeline for the door calling out to have a good workout over my shoulder.

I was somewhat relieved when his last day came, and he was to go home for a week, but he had to have the parting shot.

Mitch: PJ, you know the two things I love about you?

PJ: (still trying to comprehend that remark and meaning What did you say?, rather than What are they?) What?

Mitch: Well, your name’s one of them.

He then proceeded to walk out the door and leave me trying to figure out if I heard the first part of that exchange properly. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to follow and beg him to tell me the rest or to be completely absorbed in figuring out the answer over the week he was gone, but I was so relieved to avoid such confrontations that it completely backfired. 

Tomorrow he switches back to nights, and I’m dreading having to be on the rig floor when he is. Especially after Ali told me how my trainee was acting around him, and a conversation the three of them had a few days ago concerning the time at the gym. Any advice on avoiding unwanted attention and diffusing the possible jealousy of someone yearning for attention?

Um, Please Don’t Do That

I spend my mornings in fear that one of the roughnecks will decide to use their gym, now that they’ve taken over the room I usually commandeer for my workout. 

Today’s Exploit:

When I arrived at the Canadian rig I got a lot of funny looks, because everyone was expecting a guy since my name is rather androgynous. 

Then I was accosted right and left for wearing jeans, everyone had to make sure that they were fire retardant. Many of the roughnecks were amazed when I told them that, yes, my jeans have the proper properties to wear at the rig.

One of these conversations happened after I had been talking to Kas for a while, and was almost starting to feel comfortable around him.

Kas: Are your jeans fire retardant?

Me: (Showing him my reflecties) Yes, they are.

Kas: That’s so cool, I want some.

Me: I hate them and avoid wearing them whenever possible because they’re so tight I can hardly breath when I do.

Kas: (Leaning to check out my backside) Well, I think they fit just right.

Me: (Stammer a bit and turn bright red)

Why is it that every one I start to feel comfortable with, as a friend, has to go and burst my little happy bubble by doing something like this? I like my bubble and only get self-conscious and awkward when I know that people are watching me. Especially my bum.

Boys are frustrating.

Hint Hint Wink Wink

Countdown: 18 days left - *sob*

I decorated cookies tonight.  Now the box smells like too much sugar.

Today’s Exploit:

The mud logger is one of those creepers.

Mostly he’s just irritating and an insufferable over-sharer.  

But lately he’s been hinting that I “need” to bake something.

He walked in one day and said, “So, I hear you’re a baker.”  

Me:  You’ve been misinformed.

Him:  What! Those roughnecks lied to me?

Me:  Yep.

On another day, after I’d gone food shopping I dropped my bananas and was cursing my clumsiness.

Him:  Oh! It’s time for banana bread! You bake, right?

Me:  Grumble grumble. No.

For one:  Who wants to bake in a pig sty that’s infested with mice?

For two:  Trying to force me to do something is probably a guarantee that I’ll do everything in my power to not have to do it.  Especially if you’re being creepy and stalker-ish.  

I have taken to being extra surly in the trailer so that no one will talk to me, since privacy and being alone is not a conceivable option.

Suspicious Activity: Walking

Countdown:  One more day gone, and I’m still not ready.

I discovered, or rather re-discovered the comic Cyanide and Happiness today.  It makes me laugh.  

Today’s Exploit:

I like to pace when I talk on the phone.  

Or clean, but that’s only in my own house with no one else around.

So, here, I pace.  I walk in circles around the room or lay upside down on the bed and walk my feet up and down the wall and around the corner.  Or the ceiling, if I have a bunk bed.  

But usually I go for long walks on the beach in the moonlight.

No really.  I go for long walks.  But the beach tends more to a dirt road and the moonlight is the glare of the rig.

This activity usually gains me little to no attention.  Once in a while the roughnecks comment on my walks.  But usually they only notice my runs because that’s when I wear shorts.

When I arrived at my current and most lovely rig to meet with Dirty Herb I decided a walk was in order.  I wanted to talk to my parents.  

So I took off down the road.

I walked and avoided the wind and talked and walked some more.  

Then a car came grumbling down the road.  So I moved off into the lovely green clover that was the side of the road.

The car stopped.  

I said hello.

The man asked me where I was from.

I told him.

My parentals thought I was being snotty and said, “Hello, Wyoming?”  

I talked some more with the man and the lady watched.  

Then they drove away.  

So I walked some more and talked some more and tried to avoid the wind.

Then another man came down his driveway and asked me who I was and where I came from.  

Then he backed back down his driveway into his garage.  

Next came the lady who flew past me to talk to the gate guard at the rig.

You see, they thought I was mighty suspicious walking along the road talking on my phone.  They thought I was casing the joint.  And telling my friends about the loot they had hidden under their couches.  

So, now I don’t go walking in the night.  I’m afraid next time they won’t ask questions first.  I’m afraid they’ll get out the big scary guns that every one in Texas, except me, owns.  I think they might shoot me for talking on my phone and walking down the lonely road at night.  

The end.

PS  I told Dirty Herb about this and he laughed.  He couldn’t believe that anyone could be suspicious of little ole me.  Specially since I have short hair now.  

Guess that makes me look even more innocent.  

Huh.

Tired of Working

Today’s TV gems:  super-crazy preacher-lady, Looney Tunes.

I still get the whole back-story, to be sure I’m up to date on these wonderful shows, and the conclusion, in case I might leave just before the show ends.

Today’s Exploit:

I’ve slept four nights in my bed since moving it to my new apartment a month an a half ago.  Most of my nights have been spent running mile and miles to escape the Friday Night Fight Night or Monday Night Smackdown.  

Naturally the top four shows watched in this trailer are:

*The Newlywed Show

*Deal or No Deal

*Smackdown

*Whatever-other-fake-wrestling-show-they-can-find

And they wonder why I don’t spend evenings lolling on the couch with them.  

With the exception of the Newlywed Show each of these contains excessive jumping-around-like-a-lunatic and far to few articles of clothing.  They also contain horrible acting skills, but are taken very seriously by Pat and Ricardo.  

They spend hours discussing the results of the wrestling shows, and exclaiming, “Did you just see that?!”  Most of these exclamations follow very graceful gymnastic stunts where someone gets “knocked out”.

Another delightful pastime of my roommates is to aggravate the night mud logger.  This guy is not pleasant to be around, he complains about everything and is never wrong, but they get him riled up to a fanatical state.

The other night they were doing this as I tried to sleep, after only getting four hours of sleep the night before.  I can generally hear only pieces of their conversations, but this night it escalated into a shouting match.  When I mentioned this the next morning they said, “Oh, we thought you were just taking a long run.”

Seriously?  It’s been dark for two hours!  I’ve never been gone for more than an hour an a half; and you brush off the fact that I probably would have left five hours ago on this run?  At least I know the roughnecks worry about me, they can tell me how long my last four runs lasted.  

I’m stuck in a black hole of utter oblivion, half-naked TV shows and micro-scrutiny.

I want a day off.

Gobble Gobble

Herb, the Dirty Old Man, is back.

Still making me laugh and still making things awkward.

Today’s Exploit:

I made pumpkin cookies today.  

They were supposed to be for dinner.  

I ended up with nearly 5 dozen.  

I might not have any left by the time dinner time actually comes.

These guys are gobbling them up.

Complaining is Contagious

I’m making Smashed Roasted Garlic Bread.  My fingers are going to smell like garlic for a week.

Today’s Exploit:

I believe I mentioned I’m living with 400 people right now?  We’re packed into that grimy trailer like sardines. 

Smells like a sardine tin also, but that’s beside the point.

One of the guys in the trailer is not happy about anything.

And he wants everyone within a 3.7 mile radius to know.  

Also, he knows everything.  

A know-it-all complainer.  A loud one.  That means that no one is aloud to sleep if he can think of anything to say.  And he can always think of something to say.  He doesn’t even need acknowledgement from another being.  As long as he knows there’s someone within almost-hearing distance he can go on and on and on.

After about a week of listening to this guy, no one being able to get a word in edgewise, I noticed it.  

Everyone else started in on the complaints.  

Mostly it was about the complainer, but it’s hard to withstand all that negativism.

I even caught myself complaining more than usual.  

So I made a seriously stellar effort to cut back on the random complaints, and tried to avoid everyone else that seemed in the complaining mood.  

Luckily I’ve got my box to retreat to. 

And Solitaire.

He’s Gonna Wreck That Thing

I might take over the company man’s kitchen.  Because mine is gross and over-crowded.  

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday I was outside a lot.  We received tools from three different sites all at the same time.

While Rick was busy telling the forklift driver where to put things and the truck drivers what they’d be hauling back, I decided to be useful and strap the tools we’d just gotten.

So I found a tape measure and a marker.

I was busy measuring the pieces and noting the lengths on each end for easy reference when Rick came over to me.

Rick:  One of those truck drivers told me Joe’s going to wreck that thing.

Me:  What?  The forklift?

Rick:  Yeah.  He told me, “He’s gonna wreck that thing.”  And I asked what he meant.  He told me, “He’s gonna wreck that thing if he don’t stop watching the girl and start watching where he’s going”.  

Me:  Oh.  That makes me self conscious.  I think I need some more inconspicuous clothes.

Rick:  You don’t think they’d still be wondering, “Wonder what she looks like under those coveralls?”

Me:  I don’t want to know that!  I was happy floating in my little bubble of oblivion.  

Rick:  Haha!

I Have a New Shadow

I made a deal with K.J.

He won’t set his alarm.  I’ll wake him up in the morning

He suggests poking him in the foot, it’s safer than poking him in the arm.

Today’s Exploit:

The other day, when I was past delirious from exhaustion, I met a roughneck.  Or rather, I talked to him a bit.  

He told me about San Antonio, and that the Riverwalk was an awesome place.  He said we should hang out since we’d both be working nights.  He made jokes and chattered about a lot of things I don’t remember.  

The next time I saw him, after I got some sleep, he didn’t talk to me at all.  

He did, however, stand as close to me as possible any time I wasn’t moving.  Now every time I go to the rig floor, if he’s there, I have a second shadow.  A silent second shadow.

I’m not sure if he’s stalking me or if he’s worshiping me.

I wish he’d go back to work.

It makes me nervous.

Along the Riverwalk

I am currently sharing a trailer with 6 men. Gross.

Today’s Exploit:

I had some days off between two jobs so I decided to be brave and explore. First I spent a day and a night in San Antonio. I explored the Alamo, and walked along the Riverwalk. It had potential.

At the moment they are cleaning the river, clearing out some of the sediment. So the riverbed has about a foot of murky water in the bottom, and lots of caution tape. But no guard rails. Therefore my conclusion is that they think people will walk into open space before they will walk into water.

Also it was overcast and misty most of the day making the sidewalk very slippery. Especially for me in my cowboy boots.

I was walking a long minding my own business when I slipped. And I happened to be right behind the only other person within 100.62 feet. He was terrified that I was going to knock him in since he was standing right at the edge of the sidewalk. Luckily, for both of us, that section of sidewalk was particularly wide and I had a large buffer zone.

Later, when I was eating dinner, I was sitting near some guys. So they started to talk to me. They work in the oil field also. One of them tried to pick me up. He was very offended when I wouldn’t let him walk me home. And he didn’t seem to notice that I moved away every time he attempted to touch me.

Boys are dense.

Champion

The people out here tell me they’ve killed TONS of rattlesnakes. They also warn me daily to watch for them while I run. They’re pretty much obsessed; it’s all I hear about.


The company man even threatened to shoot me if I run in the dark.

Today’s Exploit:

That guy is back. You know? The one that would sit in the box and talk and talk, and never leave. The one that caused the other crew to buy Mace for me.

I saw him this morning. He waved. This evening he came in and complained about how weak my wave was. He stayed and talked at me about nothing for another half an hour.

I had told my friend Jason about him. (Jason is the one whose wife made Thanksgiving for EVERYONE) He has decided that he is my champion and continually asks me if I need him to get people fired. He also has decided that I need to visit him and his wife since I have no friends.

He’s also decreed that I need to meet his horses since I have funky/cowboy-steel toed boots.

A History

For a moment there I almost had a hope of being off for the holiday. But that almost hope was quickly dashed away when I looked at a larger version of the well plot. Probably I still have 2.84 weeks, just because I was hoping.

Today’s Exploit:

I was looking up some useless trivia and stumbled over a fact about Dracula. I am currently reading the book, and was rather intrigued. So I did some more research, because the gory facts were too disgusting to pass by.

Turns out Count Dracula may be loosely based on a real person. A person who actually lived, and existed, and murdered people in history. This person was Vlad the Impaler, a prince of Wallachia. He lived in the 1400s.

He fought very hard for his throne, and somehow ended up having three different reigns. Throughout his life he killed thousands of people, mostly Turks. Most of them were impaled, thus the title.

Eventually he was killed in battle, or possibly had had his eyes burned out and then was buried alive. And the next day, or a few years later, when they opened his grave he wasn’t there. The death scenario depends on the source. But they agree that his remains weren’t in his grave.

Woooo…he was already a vampire!

The end.

Night on the Town

I was going to be productive last night, and churn out a few posts for the next couple days because I have some really juicy stories.

But then Procrastination happened.

And then the Job happened. And my good intentions went to the seventh circle of hell in a fast car. Probably a convertible. Or at least a sun roof.

But I will be good tonight. At least for one post.

Today’s Exploit:

When I finally got home after my school, and after all the chores were done, like paying bills and renewing my lease and getting my Oklahoma driver’s license (boo), I finally ventured out of my flat and went to a bar. I went to one that I knew would have dancing. And it was kinda fun.

Naturally along the way I met some strange people. And some creepers. Gross.

Dance partner #1: The first guy I danced with was an older gentleman who I’d seen dancing with about three other people before he asked me. He was very good, and happy to be there. He told me stories about when he first started going to this bar, how different it was. And he told me about riding on “Gators” where he lives.

Dance partner #2: The next guy was not as experienced a dancer and he spent the whole time counting. Not out loud, but he had to move his lips to keep track of the beat. He later forced me to learn a line dance.

I have discovered that most line dances are quite boring. They do the same 4 movements over and over again for the entire 4 minutes and 38 seconds of the song. And at this bar they did 3 line dances. The one I learned they ended up doing 28 times, I watched 27. I’m amazed at how excited people are to do these dances, over and over and over again. I was bored before the first song ended.

Dance partner #3: This guy thought he was the gods’ gift to women. The first thing he told me while we were dancing was”

“I’m pretty good, I’ve been dancing since I was 12.”

Turns out I’m better than him and I’ve done this dance a grand total of 32 times.

I danced with this guy a couple times, and after every dance he’d touch my shoulder or my side, or stand WAY too close. I wanted to yell at him: I’M HERE TO DANCE, NOT BE YOUR ONE NIGHT STAND, SICKO!

But I was nice and just stepped away.

Dance partner #4: This kid was crazy. He was a very enthusiastic dancer. This nearly resulted in a few pulled muscles and finding myself upside down on more than one occasion.

He liked to do stunts, but wouldn’t tell me before he did them. So I was upside down flailing, and trying to find my feet so I wouldn’t land on my head.

He also knew nearly everyone at the bar, and would randomly stop to talk to them. I’d be left to make my way out of the crush of people in the middle of the song.

Incriminating Evidence

Somehow at this school I am popular, still.

I think I am in some alternate dimension. Not only am I still popular, I’m still being social and outgoing. I initiate conversations with strangers. I am starting to think I have some sort of alien parasite that makes me not me.

I met another group of partiers last night. They might almost (almost) replace the ones I met when I first got here. The ones that kept me out nearly every night drinking and playing Ping Pong and generally not accomplishing any studying or work related tasks.

I was also told that I’m seducing all the Texas boys here. By a guy wearing a Wyoming shirt. Go figure.

Today’s Exploit:

One of my adventures of the weekend was going to a pub with the directional drillers: one Scottish, one Arkansas redneck, and one Harley Davidson maniac. We found this place with live music; an 80s cover band. And lots of people.

When we got there, we discovered that another group from our school was there. Three from Turkmenistan, and another from Scotland. So we all sat together. And drank lots of beer and really bad mojitos. And I discovered that the guys can’t handle Pear Cider.

Elena decided that we should dance. And for as tiny as she is, she can be very convincing. So we all danced and had a good time, and made fools of ourselves.

At the end of the night Jon was approached by a guy who sat at a table near ours. The guy told him that he’d been filming us all night and was going to post the footage on youtube. He apparently thought that we’d been doing something that may be incriminating. Probably he was just jealous of how much fun we had.

Jon never go the information about where to look for the video, you know how drunk people are...no attention span. So now we are probably youtube stars, but we may never know it because we can’t find the link.

Sad.

Getting the Boot

This morning I went to breakfast with some rig hands. Not the ones that invited me to buy theirs. We went to a little Mexican place. It was very good. I got some Eggs Rancheros. And I even ate the eggs. And I ate some amazing salsa hot sauce. (I've been informed that salsa is a dance, if it has peppers in it its hot sauce)

When we were leaving one of the guys told me that the waitress recognized him from a year ago, and remembered his name. So, for some reason, he decided he had to tell her that I am his wife. Apparently she made him a little nervous.

Today’s Exploit:

When I got to this rig they were tripping pipe, so I didn’t have much to do until late at night. It wasn’t until shortly before I really needed them that I discovered that one of my steel toed boots was missing. So I faked it. I wore some other boots I happened to bring with me. And I hoped really hard that there wouldn’t be too much mud. Or that someone would notice that they didn’t have steel toes.

The next morning I ran to Wal-Mart, the most torturous store in the universe, to find some replacements. The smallest size they had was men’s size 7. I probably wear 5.5. They also only had slip ons. Sorta like cowboy boots, but not as cool.

So now I am tromping around in boots that are 3 sizes too big and not legal according to the company I work for. I am lucky I haven’t ended up on my nose about 53 times.

Please cross your fingers that my right boot is at home on my floor, waiting for me to go back and find it.

Also, I have some crocs that I use inside the trailer. I had them outside to make changing a little easier. Now I only have one. I’m pretty sure the rig dog stole it. The upside is that she stole the left shoe. Now I can wear the right one with my left steel toed boot.

Armadillo

The mud engineer commented on my clothing again. He told me that I had many target zones showing again. And that the crew was just back from days off yada yada yada.

1. He doesn’t realize that all he’s doing is making me more uncomfortable around HIM!

2. The roughnecks may look, but at least they don’t make me feel like I’m being ogled. Like the mud engineer does.

3. Roughnecks would look at me if I was wearing a circus tent or a refrigerator box because I am a WOMAN on an OIL RIG.

Today’s Exploit:

Also while I was running I tripped over an armadillo! It jumped out and attacked my feet and I almost died because I almost fell and almost broke my neck. I never knew armadillos attacked, just that they carry leprosy. Oh no! Now I’m going to be a leper, too!

Actually it was about 20 feet away, but it’s the closest I’ve ever been to a live one. Usually when I see them they’re past stiff and on to rotting. Therefore I hold my breath and squint my eyes and run as fast as I can to get away. This was the first time I actually studied one. They’re funky looking creatures.

Pic from here.

The Definition of Frustration

I was sitting near the logging unit the other night waiting for the forklift to come for my tools when the mud engineer stopped to talk.

Mud Engineer: Don’t wear too short shorts when you go out jogging.

Me: Oh, okay…

Mud Engineer: Some of us have smaller target zones than others.

Me: Crickets (literally)

I’m not sure if that was as bad as it sounded, but I now try to avoid him. In my mind he’s a bit of a creeper. Shiver.

Today’s Exploit:

A conversation I had with one of the Directional Drillers about a computer program:

Me: It didn’t work because VNC wasn’t open on this computer.

DD: Okay, try opening it to see if it works.

Me: I’m not seeing it. It’s not installed on this computer.

DD: We’ll have to go get Chris; maybe he’ll know how to open it.

Me: I guess we could install it.

DD: It must not have worked since that computer didn’t have the program on it.

Me: Yes, it’s not installed.

DD: Well, I’ll have to call the [IT people] and ask them what IP address they are using.

Me: They’re using a different program. VNC is not installed on this computer.

DD: That must be why we couldn’t get it to connect!

Me: Beat head against desk

A side note: VNC is a program that allows the user to view a computer desktop from another computer.

Another side note: I feel as if I should be enunciating V…E…R…Y slowly. I’m not sure what it is, but nothing I say seems to make it through whatever barrier this guy has. He’s pretty nice, talks a bit too much and absolutely EVERYTHING I say goes in one ear and out the other.

And Another

Yesterday the night mudlogger came over again. I was just getting ready to leave when he came in the box.

Chad: Opens the door and rolls his eyes.

Mudlogger: I came while the genius was here today!

Me: ??

Mudlogger: He said that you were the smartest person he’d ever met.

Me: To Chad Oh my, I’m very concerned for you.

Mudlogger: He said you were good with computers and you could fix my file.

Me: What’s wrong with it?

Chad: It’s a text file and we need to open it in Excel to remove two columns, but we don’t know how. We can save it to the desktop and you can work on it tomorrow.

Me: I’ll try once now.

Click Open File Click Check Accept Delete Columns Save

Chad: I didn’t think to open it that way.

Me: Here’s your file.

Unfortunately it didn’t solve the problem, but now they know how to open it to tweak it.

Today’s Exploit:

Last night I was excited to run because it was overcast and only 96 degrees. Yesterday it was 152 degrees. I set off trudging along. The road to the gate is 0.7 miles. I don’t go outside the gate because everyone tells me it’s dangerous. But the runs are usually pretty boring because I have to go back and forth on the same stretch at least three times, four if I’m motivated.

This time I got to the gate and a dog was sitting there. She was very wet and very excited to see a person. I petted her on the head, and then turned around. I got 17.2 steps when she caught up to me. She had found a way to sneak through the gate. She followed me until we met the horses.

Three horses, two babies and a donkey live on the property.

The donkey was interested in the dog, but my new buddy wasn’t very keen on meeting the donkey so she turned around.

I got about half way through my next lap when it started sprinkling. It was nice so I kept going. This continued just long enough that I was too far from shelter to even bother going back.

Then, suddenly, I was sloshed with a bucketful of water. Then another. And another. I kept going because that was pretty much my only choice. I met the dog again and she followed me to the gate where I put her outside and tightened the chain so she couldn’t sneak back in.

She was not happy about that. She barked and whined and yipped and jumped around and pushed on the fence. I felt really bad about deserting her. I could still hear her when I passed a couple trucks on their way out. I think the dog’s loyalties lay with the last person to pet her, because she stayed outside the gate after that.

I decided to slog through one more lap. I didn’t go all the way to the gate because I could see the dog’s silhouette, and I was starting to be uncomfortably with my drippy clothes and sloshy shoes.

And then I ran home and took a shower.

The end.

Sleepless

I’m back on a rig. Therefore, theoretically, I should be more consistent in posting. Hopefully.

Yesterday the night mudlogger came in asking for a flash drive he’d left.

Mudlogger: You shouldn’t be here.

Me: ??

Mudlogger: Because I have a heart condition.

Me: Uh…

Mudlogger: And you’re pretty.

Me: …

Mudlogger: I was told that you have a sense of humor and I can tease you.

Me: Oh… Ha. Ha.

Today’s Exploit:

Last night I was finally able to go to bed before 11:00. The past few nights have been pretty stressful trying to get equipment working, and worrying that something will go wrong. By the time I got off “work” I had everything working smoothly, and was almost caught up with paperwork. I went to bed thinking I could sleep a little longer and finish it in the morning.

At 1:22 I lived a scene from a scary movie.

In movies, it seems that the protagonist will be violently woken in the middle of the night. After getting to sleep, he or she will have a nice peaceful rest for a short time. Suddenly something will happen and the character will start, sitting straight up, before opening his or her eyes.

I always thought that this was an overdramatized movie trick.

Last night it is exactly what happened to me.

I was sleeping peacefully. Amazing considering the squeaking, clanking, buzzing and roaring that goes on out here.

Suddenly: BAM! BAM! BAM! YOU NEED TO CALL JUSTIN!

I was sitting straight up after the first knock, my eyes opened after the second, and I was somewhat concious after the third.

Chad: We got one survey after circulating twice, but this second one won’t come up at all. I’ve been on the phone with OSC and they said we need to call Justin.

Me: Have the auto…

Chad: Gone

I called to let Justin know what was going on. I’m sure he was just as excited as I was about being awake at 1:24.

Me: Hi Justin, I just called to let you know. Mffg mumble prregt survey problems.

Justin: Ok. Mumble grumble mffrg auto surveys?

Me: Chad left before I could ask. I’m going to see what’s happening. I’ll let you know.

Justin: Ok.

I’m sure we both mumbled and made much less sense than this, but I was still half asleep and this is what I remember.

The following half an hour is rather hazy, but I remember bright lights and finally getting a little blue box on the computer screen. Thank goodness for auto surveys.