Where You From?

I made Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies last night. Then I ate way too many of them

Today’s Exploit:

The other day, when I was doing some real work, for a change, one of the roughnecks asked me where I was from.

Him: Hey, you ain’t from around here, where you from?

Me: I grew up in Wyoming.

Him: Whoa, you a long way from home.

Me: Yes.

Him: I was jus’ wonderin’ cause you got a accident,

I smiled an went on with my work, while inside I was laughing until my cheeks fell off and my stomach started hurting. 

Letdown

The day after my race, the big marathon one, I had a very difficult time moving. I did moderately okay if I kept moving, but if I sat still for more than 28 seconds my muscles froze. I would then, to my family’s delight, have to hobble around bent nearly double for the next 3-5.2 minutes until they un-froze.

Thankfully that was the worst day, but then I had to go to work where the roughnecks got to make fun of me for walking like an old man for the next 3.27 days.

Today’s Exploit:

I was really excited for my new class to start, really exited because I though it would be about business management. The title contained the words “Career Management”, so I was sure that this one actually might help me a little.

While I enjoy getting good grades, I now have a 4.0 in worthless English classes. I say “worthless” because none of the papers I received 100% on would have passed my high school English teacher, Mr. Patrick, without being slathered in red ink with a note saying “Re-write or fail”. Probably they wouldn’t get a passing grade from my middle school English teacher, Mrs, Babel, either. (I now beg for criticism at the beginning of each class, and so far have not received anything other than “Good Job” or “Nice work”.)

But I digress.

I was excited for a business class. 

But naturally, that excitement was dashed when I got the email saying I needed to take an assessment for my UNIV___ class. 

Wait.

UNIV does not equal business. UNIV equals general university class.

And “Career Management” does not quite equal “Business Management”.

Crap.

Another goal setting class.

Maybe this guy will have higher expectations and I won’t ace the class. Maybe he’ll actually have some suggestions for me. 

Maybe.

Final Score Freak Out

Today’s Exploit:

I finally found out what my score was for my first REAL English class. I was panicky for a while, because my instructor took far longer than I thought should be allowable to post grades. Then, after posting one of the two final scores, my overall score was 75% because the site automatically puts a 0 for NA scores after 72 hours.

Freak out time? 

But I was nice and didn’t send any nasty emails freaking out about my C in class, when I had been getting 100% most of the class. (Most of the class being 3 out of 4 previous weeks.)

But now I know. And I was relieved. I was strangely worried about my final paper. But I got full credit. 

This means I get a 99.2% in the class. 

Yay.

English Essays are Boring

I should be writing a persuasive essay on an academically disputed subject. Which means that I could write about anything from abortion to why a bumble bee can fly. 

It’s just too big a pool to make a selection!

Today’s Exploit:

When I was working on my engineering degree I welcomed the, mostly pointless, classes that were required outside the engineering field. It meant that I had an easy A with minimal effort. I mean, it’s hard to get a bad grade in an Economics class with a teacher that can’t do math and uses mixed drinks for all his examples. 

Now that I’m trying to take some business classes I hate the extra “cultural” nonsense. Seriously, I have to take more English classes than I do classes that pertain to business. I also have to take psychology. I have to take all these classes because my prior credits didn’t transfer. Naturally all the math classes transferred, so I don’t even get to take some easy and fun classes. It’s just easy and boring and tedious English classes. Also, I feel like I’ve been demoted to high school, and the teachers are actually more lenient than my high school Humanities teacher.

I get four credits for each of these classes. That means that it’s supposed to take me at least four hours of studying each week to be successful in this class. 

I can write an essay that will get 97-100% in an hour: five paragraphs, five sentences per. The only difficult part is the choice of subjects when they say things like “defend a position that concerns you”. My only boundary is that I should avoid personal attacks on other people. 

I think that means that “people need to learn to take the consequences of their actions” is probably a poor topic choice? I plan on finding some obscure argument that I find entertaining and no one else will have a clue what I’m talking about.

Addicted to Words

Countdown:  12 Days. Getting rather nervous.

No one out here seems to understand that I am not capable of eating 2 chicken fried steaks and 3 bowls of seafood ay-too-fay for dinner.  I’ll stick with just the peach cobbler and some corn, thanks.

Today’s Exploit:

I got Every Word, a free game for my Kindle.  

I have been playing it endlessly for the past week, or so.  

It took me ages to beat level six.  AGES.

Each time I surpassed my previous high score I jumped around the box in excitement.  Then I’d sit back down to lose 48 more games at level two or three.  

But today was a good day.  

I beat level six on the fourth game.  Then I got through level seven.  And immediately got one of the four winning words for level eight.  It was a miracle.  And amazing.  

And then I failed miserably at level nine.

No Really, I Was Listening

An update on the sunshade:

George:  I looked for a pretty pink unicorn sunshade, but I couldn’t find one.

Matt:  It’s a good thing.  I’d have wadded it up and stuck it up your tailpipe.

Today’s Exploit:

I got an email yesterday about when I’ll be able to leave the rig.  The guy replacing me will be out sometime this afternoon.  So I thought I’d let the DDs know so they don’t get too much of a surprise.

Yesterday:

Me:  Chad will be out tomorrow afternoon.

Matt:  Ok.  I wonder how his last job went.

Today:

Matt:  So, Chad will be here...

Me:  Sometime this afternoon.

Matt:  Oh, really?  I thought he’d be coming tomorrow sometime.

The Larangus Attack

Sometimes I think the only thing that gets me through the day is the 82 popsicles that I eat.

Today’s Exploit:

Mark is addicted to Judge Judy.  He likes laughing at the stupidity of people.  

I like laughing at people’s stupidity as well, but I’m not completely obsessed.  He auto-tunes the TV to change to the Judge Judy program every day it’s on.  And he gets really excited right about 4:00 pm.  

The other day, instead of doing my workout, I watched with him.  

He talks through the whole thing, telling me exactly what happened 2.1 minutes ago.  I feel like I’m letting him down by actually paying attention so that I already know what’s going on.  But I don’t know if he actually notices that my answers are rather monotonous.  

The particular section that I remember from this show was a lady and her boyfriend.  She called him a friend, but golly, I think everyone knew why they went to that concert together.

She was suing him for attacking her on the way home, as well as damage to her car.  Bla blah blabla blah.  It wasn’t terribly interesting until the end when they interviewed the parties outside the courtroom.  

I love when people try to appear smarter than they are.

Lady:  We were driving along and he started being obnoxious.  Then he got mad and started assaulting me.  He even grabbed my larangus so I had a hard time breathing.

Really?  Your larangus?  Now that is a heinous crime.

Both Mark and Randi stopped what they were doing and looked at the TV questioningly.  

Me:  Her larangus, hahahahaha.

Mark:  Is that what she said?

Randi:  I thought she said that.

Mark:  I can’t believe someone said that to a camera, knowing it would be on TV.

Me:  Larangus.  Goodness.

Charles is the Simon Cowell of My Life

Shawn has decided, being 1 of 3 people I know in Oklahoma, that he is my self-appointed worrier. Lately he’s decided that I have to let him know when I leave town, when I arrive at rigs and when I leave to return home.

My list of people to contact when I take a trip is longer than the number of people I know in this state.

Today’s Exploit:

Charles is an instigator.

Also he has decided that this is an insult – because the phrase “you like to stir things up” worked just fine in the past. Now I’m the bad guy because I had to have a “larger vocabulary” than the people he usually teases.

Last week I made some bread. Then the other day I made cookies.

He and Chris spent the next 27 hours complaining that I had just been broken in as the job was ending. Broken in meaning I talked to them occasionally, teased back, and baked cookies.

They haven’t figured out the mostly the reason I don’t talk to them is that they’re too busy teasing me about being quiet. And when they start in on that I get even more quiet because I know they’re trying to get a rise out of me. And I’m determined to not give them any more reason to tease me.

They come up with enough fodder on their own.

The other day Charles came into the trailer:

Charles: The toolpusher remarked that you’re sure quiet, and spend most of your time in the logging unit.


Me: Oh.


Charles: I told him that you spent all your time there because you though he smelled.


Me: Great. Thanks for that.


Charles: No problem. Glad I could help.


He also keeps a close eye on my extracurricular activities.


Charles: Were you sick this morning?


Me: No, why?


Charles: You didn’t run today.

Or

Charles: How was your run?


Me: Ok.


Charles: How far did you go?


Me: 2 miles.


Charles: Only 2 miles? You’re getting lazy!

Or

Charles: Wow, it sure took you a long time to run those 4 miles today.


Me: That’s because I ran 5.


Charles: It still took you a long time.

My Job is Being Quiet, Alternate Title: I will always win the quiet game

Last night I sat in the trailer and watched TV all night. It was strangely exhausting.

It must have been that time I got up to make macaroni and cheese that wore me out.

Today’s Exploit:

When Dave and Charles and Chris are all in the trailer they’re always telling stories. They tell hunting stories, embarrassing stories, fishing stories, work stories. And they talk about chickens a lot.

Every so often they notice me. The conversations go something like this:

Charles: You haven’t said much, what are you doing over there?

Me: Making a sandwich.

Charles: Just being quiet, huh?

Me: Yep, that’s my job.

Chris: How much does it pay?

Me: Not much, but it’s steady.

Chris and Charles: Hahahaha.

Now every time one of them comes in they ask me what I’m doing, but before I have a chance to reply they say, “Just being quiet?” So I just smile and go on with what I’m doing.

Today Charles was standing in the kitchen, in my usual place.

Me: You don’t look very awake today.

Charles: (nods) I’m just being quiet.

Me: Oh, taking over my job?

Driver Training Facility

Today’s inspired Haiku. The inspiration was a stalled car. Hers.

my car will not start
he’s being a big bitch
i want some french fries.
-Cupcake

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday.

Yesterday was long.

It was one of THOSE days. The ones where you really want to strangle the stupid driver training guy. But end up screaming in your car and crying to the first person who’s sympathetic.

Yep. It was fun.

The scenario:

Have an expired drivers’ license, and only one day (2 hours) home to renew it

Be exhausted from working all night rigging equipment down and packing it into a box that is 4.62 inches too small.

Drive all day so that you can sleep in your OWN bed, arrive at your flat at 3:30 pm.

Call the driver training facility for their hours.

Call the Red Wing shoe store for their hours; you need new ones since you lost one of your other pair.

Arrange a dance lesson for 5:00 pm.

Get the mail.

Pay your rent. (tomorrow morning you’ll realize that you need to pay two months’ rent because school will last through the next due date)

Ask for a package that they didn’t notify you about. (They assume the slip saying to go to the Post Office is the notification. )

Be frustrated because you think it’s Saturday and the Post Office is already closed for the week. Also note that the piece of mail you are to pick up is certified and will be sent back after 15 days. Resolve to call the sending party.

Decide that the driver training facility to renew your driver’s license. (lose the last remaining tie to being anything other than an “Oklahoman”. This in itself is enough to make you cry.)

Drive to the facility. (This is much more difficult than it sounds. It entails driving through city traffic, aka rush hour. Then Timmy, the GPS, tells you to go the wrong way. Then you drive around a block 4.72 times because the building has no sign. Also, reaffirm that people from Oklahoma really don’t know how to drive. Or if they do they’re just jerks. Stop and talk to the guy at the cell phone place for directions. Drive around the block again looking for the cop cars now that you know it’s an HP office, as well.)

When you arrive there will be a line of 15 year olds toting all 36 members of their extended family, plus their older brother’s girlfriend’s family, extending out the door and around the corner. (Probably there were only 3 or 4 teenagers, but a total of 150 people were there)

Stand in line for 28 minutes before the driver training guy asks what you are there for:

Guy: What do you need?

Me: I need to renew my license.

Guy: Just renewed?

Me: My current one is from out of state, and it’s expired.

Guy: Out of state, really?

Me: Yes.

Guy: Let me see it.

Me: Show it.

Guy: Yep, it’s expired*. You’ll have to come back Monday to take the written test, and a driving test. We’re not accepting any more numbers tonight. Also you need your birth certificate or a Passport.

(They’re open for another half hour)

Me: I have to do both?

Guy: Yep try coming back Monday after 7:00.

*Thanks buddy, I wasn’t entirely sure about that.

So, you leave, get in y car, buckle my seat belt and scream. Then drive away from the driver training facility/Highway Patrol office knowing that they know that you know that your license has expired.

Call your mother to yell about it some more, but she’s probably not the best choice because she’s way too sympathetic. Instead of screaming you end up crying, while driving in rush hour traffic, in this stupid city, with an expired license. I hate crying.

Now be worried that you’ll miss your dance lesson because the traffic is so dumb.

The day did have a few small redeeming factors.

1. I got a birthday card from my sister.
2. I got a box of MRE pairs from my sister.
3. I got my ‘real’ birthday gift from my parents.
4. Shawn made me laugh at dance.
5. I got to sleep in my bed, the new one.

The end.

PS Dad: No inspiration today, sorry.

Cabbage Hunt

At dinner with my parents and my sister somehow our conversation turned to spitting. I took a sip of my drink, but they made me laugh before I could swallow. So they started joking about spitting juice and milk, and laughing too hard and having it come out one’s nose. They started arguing about what might be worst.

Mom: Root Beer’s the roost! (we're pretty sure she meant "worst")

Everyone else: HAHAHAHA!

Dad: And Mike’s is Yikes! (my sister and I were drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade)

Everyone else: HAHA HAHAHAHAH!

Today’s Exploit:

After a large breakfast of Buttermilk Biscuits and excellent cantaloupe my parents and I were stuffed. My dad suggested taking a walk. I thought it was a good idea, but my mom was hesitant. So I told her she should go with us.

She acquiesced. My dad was shocked that she agreed. Usually if she says no, that’s the final answer. I joked that it was peer pressure.

My dad cracked up and started “peering” at my mom, staring with his face contorted into a rather macabre mask. He claims he’ll use this in the future. I fear for my mother.

The next conversation was where we should walk. Should we go to the Greenbelt path? Or up into the mountains at Vedawoo (Ve da-VOO). Then they came up with the idea that we should walk around the university campus looking for cabbages.

They told me that a few weeks ago campus was covered with cabbages. Today we found 7. We walked for ages and ages. And in the process we toured the new IT center, the greenhouse, and the new Anthropology museum.

We also had a pinecone fight and “walked around” meaning my dad walked really fast in circles in front of my mom and I.  I tried to get an example of his shenanigans, but he caught on to what I was doing and was uncooperative.

Another adventure was throwing pinecones at the tyrannosaurus rex. The local lore is that it’s good luck if one can get a pinecone in its mouth.

PS Dad: Tonight you should make Macaroni and Cheese

Fainting Sheep

Today at the safety meeting the company man lectured us for ten minutes on the proper chain of command. We are not allowed to go directly to the person who will be helping/doing the task. We must go through the driller.

I personally find this ridiculous. The chances of something going wrong due to miscommunication are abnormally high at this rig. I’m pretty sure the guys here speak a different language than I do. I only understand about a quarter of what I hear. I can only assume the same of them so I try to talk slowly and enunciate very well. Someday I’ll have to learn the language that roughnecks in Texas speak. It will probably help tremendously.

Today’s Exploit:

I worked with this kid for a couple months. He’s funny. I pretty much never stop laughing when I’m with him. The first thing we talked about was another guy we worked with and how he quit. And that we would probably quit if the economy wasn’t in the fish tank, or if we had useful skills. He told me that I can talk good, and type even gooder. That was when my email crashed and I had to restart my computer.  After that we talked more, about how horrible computers and hairy mexicans ae.

PJ: Computers suck. I'm going to move to the top of a mountain and raise sheep. Be free from the internet.

Gene : If you move to the bottom of a valley you'll be free from the internet too

PJ: And I'd probably also have water.

Gene : especially with fainting sheep

Gene : exactly

PJ: I might need some of those. Fainting sheep.

PJ: They would be good entertainmetn

Gene : fainting sheep are awesome

Gene : I'm gong to buy heaps of them and then run at them like a drunken madman

PJ: My thoughts exactly

And another conversation.
Gene : I'm out here working night MWD by myself on a D&I only job and training DD during the days

PJ: Sounds like fun. How sleep deprived are you now?

Gene : lets just say my alarm clock hasn't woke me up once, seriously

PJ: Wow.

Gene : and the ASAP I had out here kept shutting the HSPM machine down every 30 minutes or so. I just got a new one out here that is rockin the house

PJ: Sweet.

Gene : I haven't had one red number yet

PJ: Sounds like a keeper.

Gene : We were tripping in hole today and I thought sweet, this will be an awesome time to get a nap on the couch

PJ: Yeah right, like that’s going to happen.

Gene : 30 minutes later, a hairy Mexican rolls in here damanding a BHA. I was not impressed

PJ: Hairy?  Sounds amazing

Gene : Did I spell that incorrectly

PJ: no. I just think it's funny

Gene : oh yeah, he was hairy and greasy

PJ: ew

Gene : and I'm not sure his hair wasn't greasy

PJ: Even better.

Gene : I don't know, I tried to stay back

PJ: I understand.

I was laughing to myself even more crazily than I was with The Bloggess.  I think I'm starting to fit in with the weirdos out here!

Cleanliness is a Virtue

I recently discovered The Bloggess. I have looked at her site before, but it didn’t quite click with me. But the other night I read yet another post that referenced her. So I looked again. I have been reading nonstop for the past 23.8 hours. This lady is hilarious. And she has a snarky advice column. I love her. When I am feeling particularly snarky about some of the self-important people here on this rig I think of her column, and immediately feel a little less snarky.

I like that word. Snarky.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday morning I went to the safety meeting. This meeting is required by the company and usually consists of a rig hand mumbling through a safety worksheet.

Yesterday, however, was completely dedicated to keeping the meeting house clean. The company man has very strong feelings about the house (a floor, ceiling and three walls made of plywood). He waxed…something(it wasn't poetic) about how it should be treated as one would treat his own home. Apparently we should be able to walk in the glorified cardboard box with no shoes. This is a very strenuous task for whomever is chosen, considering the two feet of mucky clay on location everyone’s’ feet weigh 43.7 pounds from slogging through it.

The company man talked and talked and talked. He told us for 27 minutes about the need to keep that place clean enough to eat off the floor.

Although, somehow his description morphed into him telling us about some poor guy who was stung by a scorpion in a rather unpleasant place while using a port-a-john. He ended up dislocating his shoulder trying to get out before he pulled his pants up. I don’t remember how this ties in to keeping the house clean, but I know it does. I’ll ask a rig hand, but I’m pretty sure they checked out before I did. I only made it 7.23 minutes.

You Should Know

When I was home, my mom wanted to do a “Photo Shoot”. She and my dad both had cameras and took as many pictures as they could. This resulted in many ridiculous pictures and my dad calling me: “you older lady”. My sister was thrilled. I was offended.

Today’s Exploit:

Last night I was the number-one-all-star roughneck. They decided that my tool wasn’t being fast enough, so they wanted to change it out. That means pulling all the pipe and racking it back. It looks like a forest of steel trees with very little foliage right at the very top. The roughnecks decided to blame me for the misfortune of extra work. Billy Joe and Juan decided that my punishment would be to pull slips and make 40 cupcakes.

Slips are the very heavy wedges that go between the pipe and the outside of the well. They keep the pipe from falling back to the bottom. I’ve posted a picture of them here. They are very heavy and rather unwieldy.

I was finally able to get into a pattern pulling slips, getting out of the way for them to rack the pipe, and then numbering it to double check the hole depth and to make sure they had as much as they thought. It was then that Billy Joe decided to start working. He was the one that hassled me the most about “roughnecking”, and then he came and took my job.

Me: Hey!

Billy Joe: Take a break; I’m afraid they’ll give my job to you.

Me: Fine.

Then he tried to start numbering them, too!

Me: Hey! You already took one of my jobs, don’t be taking my other.

Billy Joe: Oh, sorry. I thought you weren’t doing that anymore, you were so slow.

Me: Humph!

Later, when they got to the heavyweight pipe they started over again on the numbering system.

Billy Joe: This one is one.

Me: Ok, thanks.

Billy Joe: The next one is two.

Me: Really? I was a little confused, you had me all discombobulated after making fun of me all night.

Billy Joe: Discon-what-ulation?

Me: Discombobulated.

Billy Joe: You can’t use words like that around roughnecks!

Me: Haha! See what you get for making fun of my numbering skills?

Billy Joe: It goes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, and don’t you forget that!

Logan: Billy Joe, draw an arrow down and write Agitator on the last one.

Billy Joe: PJ, write agitator on that one.

Me: Writing

Billy Joe: I’m glad you wrote it, I didn’t know how to spell agitator.