Here are several things, that may be of interest, since I have not posted much lately, and am so tired, that I have no clue if any of it is interesting or entertaining, so I am loading up the blog shotgun and hopefully I’ll hit something.
We’ll start with where I have been.
Some of you may be wondering where the hell I have been. I’ll keep the answer/excuse short.
For the last couple months I have been working as a security guard for a local outdoor mall, in Austin, Texas, in the summer, during a drought and record heat, on various schedules that change from day to day. It is draining to say the least. It’s an easy job, but draining.
I also just started a new job doing phone support, and have been talking to local haunted houses, trying to decide which one I will work at.
The woman and I have also been looking for a place to move to, so that has eaten most of the spare time. We have to get out of this apartment. We have had a toilet that will randomly overflow for a couple of years now, in spite of numerous attempts by the landlord to get it fixed. But worst of all, are the upstairs neighbors.
The Upstairs Neighbors
They are a family of four; Dad, extremely large mom, extremely large teen aged daughter, and a three or four year old daughter. They are the noisiest people I have ever lived under. I am not sure they ever sleep, and if they do it is for about thirty minutes at an hour or so after dawn.
When they first moved in, they moved in after midnight as the dad had a night job and it was the only time they could do it. Sure it was annoying, but I understand. You got to move when you can move. But it seemed to take them a long time to move in. Somehow they were always banging things, dropping things, sliding things, and generally stomping around, and it has gone on for about two years.
I like to compare them to klutzes that enjoy rearranging their extensive bowling ball collection.
And you can hear every step they take. I am convinced they are part sasquatch, and I have almost injured myself several times when speaking to them in person, by trying to keep from saying, “gooney goo goo” to them. (Sorry for those of you that don’t get the reference, just watch this clip from “Raw” by Eddie Murphy and you will understand).
Fortunately, they are gone now, as the apartment management made them move to another apartment after years of complaints from us. We did not want to make them move, we just wanted them to settle down enough so we would not have to worry about our ceiling caving in. They even told us that the apartment management had informed them that if there was one more complaint they would make them move. So they came to talk to us.
We discussed the noise, how much of it, and how often. I even told them it sounded like they never stopped moving in, and even dropped the bowling ball collection analogy too. They tried to say that it was the little girl. Which I might buy, but the noise is all day, first thing in the morning and late into the evening, often til two or three AM that all this noise happened. So, I doubt it was all the toddler.
As they were leaving, my girlfriend overheard the mother tell the three or four year old that this was all her fault.
But they said they would stop, and they did. For one day.
We put up with the noise, not wanting to get them kicked out. So we resorted to the classic, banging on the walls and pounding the ceiling with a stick. All this did was irritate them and they would pound back.
Even so, we were not going to say anything, until they did something so profoundly stupid, we had to say something.
One day they were on a real tear, upstairs, and I banged on the ceiling, matching them, thump for thump. Then I get a knock on my door. It wasn’t the neighbors, but the Sheriff. He said that they had complained about the banging on the ceiling. I told him, that I was trying to get them to shut up, and invited him in for a listen, since they did not have the sense to settle down after calling the cops for my noise. He agreed with me and went and spoke to them about it, but that was the last straw, I wrote the apartment management and told them they needed to go.
Anyways they are gone, and I am working at another job, back on the phones doing support, and working security on the weekends. But at least I am getting a tad more sleep.
All this is why I have not written in a while as I am exhausted.
Oh well, on with the post I wanted to write.
They’ll Let Anyone Drive a School Bus.
While at work, I was talking to my best friend from childhood on the phone and we discussed an event that we still have a hard time believing actually happened.
When we were in middle school, the bus driver seemed to not like me much. I do not remember what asshatery I had done to deserve it, but at one point, he decided that I would have to sit in the front seat of the bus for the rest of the school year.
His name was Mr. Johns. Mr. Johns was a large man who should have his picture in the dictionary next to the word, “sweaty.” Sitting that close to him was not exactly pleasant on the olfactory senses, if you catch my drift. If not, I am sure there is still some of that odor drifting around somewhere, and eventually you may encounter it.
One day, my best friend, Ray, is sitting up front with me, as the bus traveled down the road towards school. At one point, Mr. Johns, turns to me, and says, “Mike, I want to show you something, so pay attention.”
“See that? That’s the emergency break. Let me show you how it works.”
He then pulled the brake and the bus came to an almost immediate stop from the thirty or forty miles an hour we had been doing. There were books everywhere, and I think everyone on the bus ended up flipping over their seats and landing in the seat in front of them.
It seemed weird, maybe even a bit crazy.
Then Mr. Johns continued, “That’s what I want you to do if something ever happens to me while driving this bus, like if I get shot or something. You stop the bus and let everyone out.”
He then removed the brake and took us to school.
For the last twenty five or so years since, Ray and I have yet to figure out what the hell that was all about. The next school year, we had a different bus driver. We have no clue what happened to Mr. Johns, but we assumed he got shot, or maybe had a heart attack from all the weight and the sweating he did. More than likely, he just got a job somewhere else, but we prefer to think he got shot.
We have no idea why someone would shoot him, but at least knowing that someone was really after him, makes the story make a bit more sense. Although, we still can’t figure out what he did, and who he pissed off so much that he didn’t even feel safe while driving a bus load of children around.
Another thing that has come up at work, is my new favorite song, that I have turned my coworkers on to.
My New Favorite Song
The video is ok, but it is the song I love, it is just catchy and wrong in all the right ways.
“Lotion” by the Greens Keepers
And finally, one other piece of awesomeness that I just could not leave out.
Click Here For Awesomeness
Follow
